We conclude with the Torah’s charge to ‘place these words upon your heart and upon your souls... in order to prolong your days... upon the Land that G-d has sworn to your forefathers to give them, like the days of heaven over earth’.

We are promised that if we bear this yoke, we will live long lives on the land of our ancestors.

But what if we live in the exile, as do most Jews today, are we precluded from this granting of long days?

The great sage, Rabbi Yochanan, when told that there were many elderly people in Bavel, wondered how it was possible as the Torah clearly makes that promise only to those who inhabit the holy land.

When the students reported that these old-timers were מקדמי ומחשכי — people who arose early to attend synagogue in the morning and stayed late after dark, in the evening, he exclaimed ‘that is what merited them long lives!’ This notion, the Talmud adds, is reflected in Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi’s instruction to his children to ‘arise early and stay late when attending synagogue so that your days shall be prolonged’. (ברכות ח.)

How does diligent attendance in the synagogue merit long life and compensate for not being ‘on the land sworn to our forefathers’?

Was Rabbi Yochanan’s puzzlement over the longevity of people outside the land particular to Bavel? Were there no other old-aged men anywhere else in the diaspora?

In what way is this specific promise of long-life inherent to the promised land?

The remarkable sage, the Chida, quotes in the name of a גדול אחד — a sage of great stature, that Rabbi Yochanan was intrigued specifically about the elderly of Bavel based on his own interpretation of a verse in the תוכחה — the Admonition, that warns of a time when we will be exiled to Bavel and referring to that Bavel as a locale where people will be plagued by a לב רגז — a sense of anxious insecurity. (דברים כח סה)

Iyov describes one who is a victim to this fragile state of being, as a ‘Man born of a woman, קצר ימים — short of days, ושבע רגז — and satiated with anxiety’ (איוב יד א), indicating the consequence of a shortened life span for those plagued by insecurity.

Rabbi Yochanan thus wondered how people could survive to such old age in a toxic environment of fear and anxiety.

The answer is embodied in a third verse, says the Chida. The prophet Chabakuk taught, ברגז — when you find yourself in a state of anxiety, ברחם תזכור — remember, mercy [to pray].

(חבקוק ג ב)

When Rabbi Yochanan heard that these elderly gentlemen, spend much of their time in prayer, it became clear to him they the discovered the elixir for life in a society clouded in anxiety — prayer, as the prophet Chabakuk taught is the antidote for this malady. (פתח עינים ברכות ח)

Is it just the extra dose of intense prayer in appealing to G-d to provide us longevity despite the natural effects of debilitating, life shortening anxiety we live with, that does the trick? Or may there be something more fundamental at play?

The Talmud seems to emphasize, more than their intense prayer, the fact that these aged men ‘arrived early’ and ‘stayed late’ in the synagogue.

The great commentator, the Kil Yakar, in his seminal work, Olellos Efraim, adds an additional dimension.

One who arrives early to the synagogue, when no one is there but him and G-d, naturally becomes more bonded to the source of all life... It is precisely for this reason that Rabbi Yochanon assumed that aged-old men would be more prevalent among the inhabitants of the land of Israel, since it is where the Divine Presence dwells and is revealed more than anywhere else in the world.

The nature of the land of Israel in its pristine form, is one of tranquility, that instills within an individual a calming sense of security that spawns a healthy state of mind and body that promotes longevity.

But when he discovered the elderly ‘Shul Yidden’ of Bavel who discovered this potion for life, arriving early, absent of the distractions of social interaction, and remaining late to bask quietly in that special connection. They too cleaved to G-d, finding the tranquility that is so vital to living long and healthy lives. (עוללות אפרים ח"ד עמוד ב מאמר תקג)

May I humbly add, that although prayer in itself, being a moment of intimacy with our Creator, also breeds this closeness, it is only when we are able detach ourselves from the external physical world with all its temptations, noises, and distractions in those quiet moments of life afforded to us — coming early before prayer and the arrival of the community, and after everyone parts from Shul and remaining behind, alone in the serene presence of G-d.

In those priceless moments of solitude that we discover our deepest connection to the Creator.

We conclude in likening these ‘prolonged days’ to days of ‘heaven over earth’.

Rav S.R. Hirsch echoes many others who explain this idea to mean that our days on physical earth are only meaningful if we live a life inspired by the heavenly connection of adherence to the spiritual and moral calling of G-d’s Torah. We are materially engaged in the daily interactions of a physical world with all its complexities and challenges that seek to weigh us down and disconnect us from our inherent heavenly connection and inspiration from Above. The only antidote we have is by creating ‘days of heaven’ — re-connecting in solitude to the sole force that defines us — immunizing us from the lapses of consciousness and anxieties that leave us susceptible to all that negativity.

Rav Hirsch quotes the Talmud which records two opinions as to how these last two words — על הארץ — over earth, of this second passage of Shma, which appears together with first passage of Shma in the text of a Mezuzah, should be written in the Mezuzah. Everyone agrees they should appear on the last line of the Mezuzah alone, with no other words on the line. One says it should be written at the end of the line directly beneath the last word on the previous line — שמים — heaven, to indicate how שמים, heaven, must always be primary and above הארץ, the earth. Others maintain that these two words — על הארץ, should appear at the beginning of the last line, the furthest distance from שמים, indicating how vast the ‘distance’ between ‘heaven and earth’ is.

Perhaps there are two messages here. Firstly, we must always remain conscious of the primacy of heaven over earth. But more importantly, we must realize that even whilst we engage in the material world, with all its potential feelings of angst and insecurity, we have the capacity to remain aloof from its influence, by remaining closely and confidently connected to our higher reality that transports us to realms of connection that can even parallel the long and glorious days of our safe and secure bond with ‘the source of all life’ when we inhabited our holy land in days of yore.

Speedily soon again in our time!

באהבה,

צבי יהודה טייכמאן