“Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, ‘It might have been.’ ” – John Greenleaf Whittier
The metamorphosis of Akiva the shepherd into Akiva the rabbi, one of the most revered leaders in Jewish history, is an inspiring narrative of what today could be called a midlife career change.
Akiva was an uneducated 40-year-old shepherd who worked for Kalba Savua, the richest man of his time. Akiva, depending on the source, had been either unsuccessful at or uninterested in acquiring Torah knowledge and consequently may have decided early on to spend the rest of his life working as a shepherd.
One day, however, while drawing water to drink, Akiva noticed that single drops of water falling onto a stone had over a period of time etched a deep hole into the hard substance. Akiva had an epiphany: If single drops of water could so impact a stone, certainly he, by relentlessly committing himself to his studies, would eventually succeed.
With the encouragement of Rachel, the daughter of his employer who later became his wife, Akiva, at the age of 40, decided to make a career change. He abandoned his “safe job” and resolved to devote himself to the study of Torah. The consequence of this midlife decision continues to ripple through history. While this story is often used to inspire and motivate school children, its subtle points can help galvanize adults to seek a more meaningful life and to overcome the procrastination and fear that impedes them from doing so.
Although the Talmud contains many of Rabbi Akiva’s legal opinions, there are scant details about his life. One can only wonder what it was like for a man of such supreme intellectual potential to work as a shepherd. Was he bored? Did he have trouble getting out of bed in the morning and getting to work on time because his job was so insipid? Did he look forward to Shabbos all week as it would finally provide a reprieve from his tedium, and then did he lament at the start of the work-week that the “weekend” had passed too quickly?
Although we have no way to be certain about Rabbi Akiva’s internal struggles, we do know that many midlife adults in the 21st century can identify with the frustration Rabbi Akiva may have experienced working in a boring job that was far below his potential.
It’s noteworthy that Pirkei Avot (chapter 5, mishnah 21) enumerates what psychologists or educators today might refer to as developmental milestones. For example, it cites the age for starting biblical study (5 years) and the age for pursuing a livelihood (20 years). Interestingly, 40 is cited as the age for “understanding.” Perhaps then it is not a coincidence that Rabbi Akiva began his quest at the age of 40, having gained the understanding necessary to take an accurate inventory of his life and his potential. He then created a plan for his future and took the first steps in that direction.
In modern times, 40 years of age is often viewed as one of the definitive signposts of middle age; however, rather than viewing it as the age when one acquires understanding with its concomitant opportunities, more often than not it becomes the time when one begins to feel the existential dread associated with the belief that the best years of life have passed and that therefore it is too late to try to pursue one’s aspirations.
I recall an extremely vivid dream I had during my late middle age years. In the dream, my wife invited me to go to a concert with her. I refused for various silly reasons, such as it would be hard to find a parking and impossible to procure an admission ticket. Despite my concerns, my wife went alone. Shortly after her departure, I remembered how much I love music and berated myself for not having joined her. Although it was well past the show’s starting time, I decided to go and try to get in.
When I arrived at the venue, I was pleasantly surprised to find that parking and purchasing a ticket were much easier than I had anticipated. As I entered the concert hall, I was immediately enthralled by the lovely music and the colorful bright lights on the stage; I felt invigorated just being there. I found my wife with an empty seat beside her. As I settled in, however, my enjoyment was soon curtailed by self-recriminations for not having gotten there earlier. I castigated myself for being so fearful and overly cautious. Fortunately, I was able to counter these unproductive thoughts by telling myself, “Wait a minute. I am so delighted to be here now. I may have been late, but there is still a part of the show to see and enjoy. Why not just sit back and savor what’s left?”
The reason for the dream was obvious. In my mid-to-late 40’s at the time, I’d been feeling that a good portion of my life had already passed and I was distressed that I had no doubt missed opportunities because I lacked the desire and courage to stretch beyond my comfort zone. I feared it was now too late for me to do what I could have done. The meaning of the dream was clear: Yes, it was late in my life, but there was still part of the “show” I could enjoy. These may be the ultimate lessons we can learn from Rabbi Akiva: One should never underestimate one’s potential, and one should always remember that it is never too late to make meaningful changes in one’s life.
Truth be told, when Akiva quit his job he did not have the type of family responsibilities shared by 21st century wage earners. Yeshiva tuition, shul dues, and the high price of kosher food did not have to be factored into his decision. It is clear that in our time, giving up one’s job for a dream is not always possible or realistic. Nevertheless, there are other roads one can take that can lead to a more interesting, challenging, and meaningful life.
The first step is finding the balance between work and play. As noted psychiatrist and death researcher Elisabeth Kubler-Ross has pointed out, no one on his or her death bed has ever lamented not having worked longer hours. My children were very young when I was trying to complete my doctoral dissertation. I would came home from my job tired, and the prospect of working on my research later in the evening was daunting. When the children’s bedtime approached, they wanted “good-night” stories and snuggles. Part of me wanted to say, “I am really tired and busy. I don’t have time right now. Maybe tomorrow.” Then I’d remind myself that they would someday outgrow this wonderful stage. I realized I had a choice: I’d either remember these days with regrets for not having snuggled the children or I’d look back at the snuggles and stories with fond memories.
The second step is to acknowledge that even if one cannot change one’s job, one can make the effort to improve the quality of life outside of the work situation. There are many options open to an individual. For example, one can enrich life by improving one’s physical condition, by making it a quest to eat more nutritious food and to exercise. One can also expand one’s horizons by taking courses, joining a book club, or attending shiurim. One can decide to devote time to improving one’s community by doing volunteer work and helping those who are less fortunate.
There are options open to everyone. One need only consider which of these would be life enhancing and then pursue them. It is clear that we need not settle for humdrum lives. Rabbi Akiva would no doubt agree with George Eliot’s adage, “It is never too late to become what you might have been.”