Where Have The Children Gone?,Elki Rosenfeld

"And the days [life] of Sarah were one-hundred years-and twenty years-and seven years [these are] the years of Sarah."

The opening passuk (verse) of Parshat Chayei Sarah tells us how old Sarah was at the time of her death. We learn that Sarah was 127 years old when she passed away. Rashi immediately asks the obvious question. Why didn't the Torah say so outright: "And Sarah was 127 years old when she died"? Why is each digit stated separately?

Hashem calibrates each word in the Torah precisely according to His Divine scale. This is not like our constantly turning on "word count" in the Tools menu to see if we reached or exceeded our word allotment for an assignment. Rather, each letter in the Torah is sacred and precious, and Hashem does not waste words where they are unnecessary.

In this passuk the repetition of the word "year(s)" - shanah or shanim after each part of the number 127 seems to add nothing new to her reported age. More than that, the awkward syntax complicates and obscures the facts. Yet, Hashem wrote the Text in the Torah in order to clarify it to its students and not to confuse them.

This is what Rashi investigates in his commentary here. Rashi's exact words bear quoting in this case. He explains: "L'kach nichtavah shanah b'kol klal v'klal - Therefore, the word 'year' is written in each segment of her age lomar lecha she'kol echad nidrash l'atzmo - to tell you that each number is to be expounded on its own [and not just as part of the whole]."

Citing Rashi further: "At the age of 100, she [Sarah] was like a 20-year old in terms of sin, since one is accountable for aveirot (in Shamayim) only after the age of 20; and when she was 20 Sarah was comparable to a seven-year old in beauty."

Were the words not Rashi's, I would argue that his interpretation is erroneous and contrary to life experience. However, the words did flow from Rashi's quill, so I will only use the adjective "enigmatic." Rashi's question on the verse jumps at the reader, but it is the answer that always bothered me. How could the towering Rashi give examples that don't prove true? There has to be more to this Midrash that Rashi brings.

These queries always raised their silent voices within me when I would learn the Midrash yet again. This is my problem: I would think that a woman who reached the age of 100 had put her yetzer ha'ra (evil inclination) to rest and would focus on the World-to-Come. Surely, a woman at that stage in life has a significant decrease in temptation to sin, while a 20-year old, typically is not a paragon of innocence and sinlessness. So that comparison begs for further illumination.

And the second simile in the Midrash seems even further from the truth. At 20, Sarah was as beautiful as a seven-year old. Based on everything you know is a little girl more beautiful than a young woman? Most girls bloom as they mature. So I would have thought that Rashi would have reversed his comparisons. Why does Rashi give these comparisons as a eulogy for the completeness of Sarah's life, if they don't really seem to bear out?

This past Sukkot, some events took place, all similar, that crystallized an underlying dismay of which I was not fully conscious. Several occurrences, one after the other stared me in the eye, and my inner disheartenment awoke.

"You look beautiful and so grown-up. I wish I had that dress." "Who cut your hair? That's a great style. Turn around; maybe that haircut would suit me, as well." These are typical comments that women, young, and not so young, have been saying to one another since there was more than one woman.

But wait one moment. Hear those compliments with a new eye and ear. They are actual words that I said, or heard another adult say, to little girls. Since Rosh Hashanah I realized that all the kids were dressed in grey and/or black and in very adult styles. Their haircuts complemented the aura their clothing projected. Suddenly, it stopped being cute and became disconcerting or worse.

Over the past couple of years, it seems that children have turned into mini-adults at an increasingly younger age. Why? The parents I questioned agreed with me, but responded, "That's the only style you can find today," or, "But she wanted it so badly. I didn't want to make a scene at the salon. I couldn't argue anymore." There's something very off kilter in these answers.

The fashion gurus design clothing that sells. If mothers would ask the owners of children's clothing stores for a more age-appropriate style and be willing to walk out empty-handed, I think you would find more suitable styles when shopping for young girls. And if mothers (or fathers) would find it within themselves to say, "No, you can't wear your hair that way. But choose another style that you also like," I'm quite certain that eventually this phenomenon would change.

But first there has to be recognition and acknowledgement on the adults' end. You can't expect children to be aware of the nuances in their appearance. I know that when you see attire that appalled you the first or second time, after seven or eight views, you no longer notice anything "off" about it.

I want to clarify that I am not referring to the conventional tznius (modesty) of sleeves, socks and inches. The sweet children in high-fashion expensive black jumpers with grey shirts and tights or black knee socks create a far more insidious issue.

As I pondered all this, I remembered a vignette from the past. I was at the beach with my friend. A very little girl - surely no older than three and probably less was wearing a bikini. My friend commented, "Isn't she adorable?" I agreed but then looked at the child and rethought the image. "No, I don't think she's adorable. A bikini doesn't belong on a toddler. What image do her parents want to project to others and to the little girl?" If she will grow up inclined to wear scanty swimwear, she has many years to go.

Now we can understand Rashi's interpretation more coherently and sensitively. The beauty of the seven-year-old to whom he refers is beautiful in the way a young girl should be. No one can come close to the innocent, angelic face of a child. The word beauty is literal in Rashi. But it's the purity of beauty that emanates from the seven-year old. So Sarah, at 20, still manifested the incomparable radiance of a seven-year-old.

Please give childhood back to the children. It is their rightful inheritance and glory. There's time for them to grow up and look just like their 20-year old sisters.

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Where Have The Children Gone? , Elki Rosenfeld