Five Minutes a Day: Lessons from a Life Approaching Seventy

Almost fifty years ago, when I started becoming religious, a looming tower appeared as a blip on the horizon.

Every Shabbat, we read in Psalm 90, attributed to Moshe Rabbeinu: “The days of our years are seventy; or if by reason of special strength, eighty years . . . .” In my twenties and thirties, I thought the message was directed at older people. They needed to take stock of their lives—did they think they were going to live forever? Now I am facing my upcoming seventieth. How did that happen?

On my fortieth birthday, friends took my wife and me out to dinner in New York. We ate sushi and shared laughs over the rigors of raising our families. At halfway to eighty, I no longer felt young. But I didn’t feel old. I still had plenty of time before I would join the Old Timers Club, I thought, as I read my weekly Shabbat reminder. Now my children are over or nearly forty.

As I approached fifty, I published a piece titled “Oh That 50 Feeling.” Fifty sounded old, and in that article, I renewed my vows with life, pledging to live with added gusto and savor every day. Inspirational thoughts, like those expressed in my fifties, can be fleeting. It’s hard to say if I changed my behavior much. But now that Psalm 90 message, repeated every Shabbat, is bigger, no longer a blip.

We march through time, and it marches through us.

At sixty, I was taken by surprise. The decade passed quickly. I was a grandfather and an empty nester, a bit grayer. If fifty turned to sixty so fast, well, halfway through my sixties, Medicare loomed, and Social Security was next. That weekly “seventy” message was flashing yellow. I couldn’t wait for inspiration. I knew I needed to do something more.

My chavruta of nearly forty years provided a spark.

Zelig is a master at utilizing his time. He developed a routine of using just five extra minutes a day for learning, at specific times, to accomplish his goals. After Shacharit, he would stay for just five minutes. Five minutes a day, thirty-five minutes a week—an extra thirty hours a year. Every morning in davening, we read the mishnah: “These are the things without limit and the study of Torah is equal to them all.” Talmud Torah is infinite, but Zelig learned it differently. “No limit” also means no minimum. Even five minutes is valuable. Thirty hours a year. Three hundred hours in a decade—equal to twelve and a half days of nonstop learning!

The passage of time is both tangible and intangible, and as I reach each rung on the ladder, I am amazed at my age. We march through time, and it marches through us. It is both a journey and a destination. As we age, we change and are changed, yet the “I” at seventy is the same self we had at age ten.

What is Moshe Rabbeinu telling us about turning seventy?

Of course, at age sixty-nine, seventy doesn’t sound old. But let’s get beyond relativism and our attempts to think we’re still young. “Eighty is the new seventy”? That can’t be Moshe’s message. The psalm reminds us that life is finite. When I was in my twenties and thirties, even forties, I believed that I would live forever. Every Shabbat, that pasuk about seventy years caught my eye.

Now I’m turning seventy. I was looking for grandiose answers. Wake up! I told myself. But change doesn’t work that way. I’m ready to act. Every day. Just five minutes.

Five minutes is enough to change your world.

Efraim Jaffe is an independent certified financial planner. He lives in Great Neck, New York.