‘Youthful’ Delights

My lone granddaughter said special words to my daughter after she and her siblings received a token from Computer Cowboy and me. Apparently, that little one was enamored of the small, i.e., young, cucumbers with which her safta and sabba had graced her and her brothers. More exactly, my granddaughter asked my daughter, “Mommy, why are our cucumbers so big?”

To be more precise, my daughter’s daughter viewed her grandparents’ gift of “select,” cylindrical fruits as “special.” Often, in the eyes of innocents, commonplace items or experiences are considered “exceptional.”

It’s important to note that despite my grandchild’s endearing nature, the human faculty for enchantment is not bound by age. Rabbi Carlebach, in particular, attributed “youth” to individuals who believe that the future can be more beautiful than the present. Namely, he separated people into those with hope, as opposed to those without it. Although most of us are cognizant of this distinction, usually, most of us fail to keep it in mind, thereby, most of us continue to live with scant fascination.

Too regularly, we stay unaware of the difference between frank fidelity and complex rationalizations. I recall, for instance, a time, when I was sitting with buddies at a simcha, when one of my gal pals professed that she had “an old soul.” I wondered, to myself, if her declaration meant that she regarded herself to be lacking allegiance to G-d. I was confused as she, over and over again, exudes courage in announcing her spiritual convictions. In fact, my peers recognize her as one among us who lends other women reasons to hold close to The Aibeshter.

In reverse, some of us, despite our aches, pains, and other accoutrements of aging, curiously, have been branded as unquestioning, as neither suspicious nor as overthinking. For example, repeatedly, I’ve been told that I’m a poster girl for embracing one’s inner child. My associates point their fingers at me simply because I frolic with a prickle of make-believe hedgehogs, and BH, b’ayin tova, delve, without noticeable restrictions into, respectively, writing, visual arts, and cooking (but not oboe. I gave up that double reed woodwind more than four decades ago—even “imaginative” girls can’t fit too many activities into their days.) That is to say, my mates maintain that my employment of spontaneity, when fashioning new things out of old, indicates a childlike demeanor, or, in the least, the deportment of someone with abundant routes to discovery. Yet, extemporaneity is not always a sign of religious steadfastness. I, for one, am not as pure as a child.

Mull over that my children’s children remain certain that their closest relatives will protect them, in general, as well as provide them with security when they take risks, more specifically. They bank on their kin not only keeping them safe, but, simultaneously, affording them moments of authentic originality. By way of illustration, like most people in their formative years, my grandchildren don’t adjudicate whether or not we guardians are young at heart or old beyond our years. Rather, they care if we arrange their protection and arrange opportunities for them to be creative.

Analogously, as Hashem’s scions, we don’t have to (and actually can’t) understand Him. All the same, we seek well-being and prospects for inventiveness from Him. Essentially, when we work on ourselves to release any illusion that we control our lives’ outcomes and, instead, reify that, in point of fact, we’re fully at the mercy of His kindness, then we’re enabled to slough off all manner of incumberment. In turn, we’re restored to the sort of vitality that, time and again, is characterized as exclusively the province of lads and lasses.

On balance, as a people, we’re supposed to be committed to the optimism that is sanctity. Am Yisrael is called “The Children of Israel,” and “Bnai and Bnot Hashem” because emunah requires the same sort of release, i.e., the same sort of dependance on an entity greater than oneself, as is manifested by youngsters’ confidence in their parents, and, perhaps, in their grandparents. We must remain as close to guileless as possible if we’re to fiercely bond with our Creator.

Further, in terms of our relationship to Tatty in Shemayim, it remains true that when we are open to His interventions, that is, when we can be transparent about our thoughts, words, and deeds, concurrent with accepting His will without distrust, then we are crowned with refreshing traits. Too frequently, we’re only able to attribute these qualities to children.

In so many words, it’s not a bad thing to be “youthful,” but a boon. Contrariwise, we’re “doddering” when we close ourselves off to holiness, to the very mainstay of blessedness that can cull for us the best of life. It wouldn’t hurt if we remembered to be grateful for our breath, for our ambulation, for our spouses, children, and parents, for our friends, for our teachers, for our communities, and for Eretz Yisrael. Of course, it would, likewise, be commendable if we could become excited about miniature cucumbers.