Today, in 2025, life expectancy is more than double what it was a century ago. It is no longer unusual to find children in their seventies caring for parents nearing one hundred. Science attributes this dramatic rise to improved hygiene, nutrition, and medical advances. But Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman zt”l saw something more.
Why did Hakadosh Baruch Hu choose now, in our time, asked Rav Shteinman, to bring about such an exponential increase in longevity? What is the spiritual purpose behind this shift?
Coming from Rav Shteinman, the question is profound. Born in 1914 and raised in Brisk, he grew up next door to the Brisker Rav and learned under Rav Aharon Kotler in the 1930s. In 1937, fleeing the Polish draft, he escaped to Switzerland, only to be interned in a labor camp. The Swiss authorities quickly released him from heavy work; he was too frail, too thin, too physically weak to bear a load.
That frailty, however, became part of his greatness.
Arriving in Eretz Yisrael in the 1940s, he emerged as a towering Torah figure, becoming a rosh kollel of Ponovezh, head of the Ponovezh Yeshiva Ketana, and later the guiding light of the Torah world. Yet despite his position, he lived with breathtaking simplicity. His daily food intake was a cucumber, a boiled potato, and a few spoonfuls of oatmeal. For six decades he slept on the same wooden board and thin mattress given to him by the Jewish Agency upon his arrival in Israel.
I once visited him on Chazon Ish Street 5 in Bnei Brak. The scene was unforgettable. The walls had not been touched, perhaps not even painted, in over thirty years. The old furniture, the peeling plaster radiated utter simplicity. There was not a trace of gashmiyus. Had gravity not insisted on a floor, I am not sure the apartment would have had one. When he once came to London to speak and was offered a modest upholstered chair, he immediately declined. “Please,” he said gently, “a simple chair is enough.” He lived as pure spirit in a frail vessel, yet what a spirit it was.
Until his nineties, Rav Shteinman scarcely left the Beis Medrash. His sefarim—Ayeles HaShachar, his commentary on Chumash and Shas—reveal the depth of his mind. But then, in his 90s, something changed. He decided to travel the world to give chizuk to Jews everywhere. And so, with a body that seemed to defy its own limits, he journeyed to Mexico City, Berlin, France, Gibraltar and beyond, encouraging, advising and uplifting. Until his hundredth birthday, he continued these travels, and even afterward, his home was open day and night, receiving Jews from every walk of life.
So what was his answer? Why did Hashem orchestrate this massive rise in longevity?
To understand, we need to turn to this week’s Parsha.
Chazal (Devarim Rabbah 1:15) praise Eisav’s unparalleled excellence in the mitzvah of kibbud av va’em. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel testified that he served his own father his entire life, yet never reached even one percent of Eisav’s devotion. The Zohar states that no human being ever equaled him in this mitzvah. Even Yaakov Avinu observed that Eisav never once angered their father Yitzchak.
But why was Eisav so extraordinarily gifted in this area?
The Maharal explains that Eisav’s sechel, his human intellect, was extremely strong, and kibbud av is a mitzvah that aligns perfectly with sechel. Parents bring a child into the world, nurture him, protect him and it makes sense to honor them. A Torah Jew, however, faces the complication of knowing there is a third partner in creation: Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Awareness of Hashem’s role can subtly lessen the exclusive focus placed on parents. Eisav, who lived entirely within this-worldly logic, had no such challenge and therefore excelled beyond all others.
With this, Rav Shteinman offered his breathtaking insight.
As we draw closer to the end of days, the long spiritual struggle with Eisav approaches its climax. Eisav’s unparalleled strength in the mitzvah of honoring parents must be counterbalanced within Klal Yisrael. Therefore, Hashem has extended human life, so that we, the Jewish people, have the opportunity to perform the mitzvah of kibbud av va’em in a way that rivals Eisav’s greatness. Longevity, therefore, is not merely biological. It is spiritual strategy, giving us more time to fulfill this foundational mitzvah.
Rav Shteinman himself, tragically, did not have the opportunity to fulfill this mitzvah in its fullest form. His parents were murdered in the war, and he alone survived. Once he was invited to speak at a gathering in Bnei Brak about kibbud av, and he refused. When pressed for a reason, he said: “When I was ten years old, my mother once prepared food for me, and I refused to eat it. I do not feel worthy to speak about this mitzvah.”
One imagines, from the vantage point in the World of Truth, that his parents were overflowing with nachas. At 104, his pure soul returned to its Creator, a journey he had prepared for his entire life.
What a towering giant. What a humble heart. May his memory be a blessing.
