Turning fifty can be sobering. Our prime is behind us. From here on out, the mind and body will only degenerate further. Fifty can seem like the beginning of the end. In Jewish thought, however, turning fifty is not the beginning of the end; rather, it is the end of the beginning.

The English word jubilee (fifty-year commemoration) comes from the word yovel, referring to the fiftieth year in the sabbatical cycle, when fields and properties in Israel were returned to their original owners and indentured servants were granted freedom.1

Yovel expresses the idea that, at fifty, things return to their original state. Fifty is thus a comprehensive reset button, rebooting the system for a fresh start.

In fact, the word yovel means freedom or sending off, referring specifically to this quality of renewal and self-determination, as exemplified by the release of servants and the return of land to its original owners.2

Interestingly, yovel can also refer to a stream, as understood from the verse,3 He shall be like a tree planted by water, sending forth its roots by a stream [yuval]: It does not sense the coming of heat, and its leaves are ever fresh. It has no care in a year of drought, and it does not cease to yield fruit.4

In this evocative verse, man is compared to a tree. Like a tree with roots firmly set in a brook of water, when we are anchored and in tune with ourselves, we are able to flourish even when subject to adverse conditions. Yovel represents just such a returning to the roots of our truest self, reconnecting with what is most essential in our lives.

Earlier in life, we tend to focus on developing our resume with the aim of building a successful career. To do so, we branch out, trying our hand at different opportunities to find the path to success. In doing so, we invariably encounter all kinds of successes and failures along the way, and we end up learning valuable life lessons.

At fifty, we turn the page and start a new phase of our lives. As we become more firmly rooted in life experience and increasingly in touch with our core values, fifty is the age of return.

It is thus a time to direct our focus inward, to actively address our more spiritual aspirations, and rededicate ourselves to what is most personally meaningful. This recalibration of consciousness inspires us to develop the types of virtues we would want to have recounted in a eulogy rather than the skills we would want written in our resume.5

Such a redirection of our energies towards a more holistic sense of health and happiness invariably results in a surge of spiritual regeneration.6

Fifty is when we begin to realize that we are in fact aging. However, in Judaism, this is precisely when we truly begin saging. “Fifty is the age for dispensing advice,” says the Mishnah.7

Advice is personal and situation-specific, necessarily drawing from an accumulated reservoir of life experiences that have developed our sense of judgment and deepened our ability to be attuned to the needs of others as well as ourselves.

A wise man once said, “To know where you’re going and how to get there, you must first have a good sense of where you’re coming from.” Fifty is that time of reflection and rejuvenation, a personal yovel, giving us the opportunity to reconnect to our roots, to reclaim our inheritance, and to cultivate the nourishing wisdom that lies within.

The Big Idea

Mindful introspection throughout the course of one’s life transforms the natural process of aging into a spiritual journey of saging.

It Happened Once

On the occasion of his seventieth birthday, the Lubavitcher Rebbe received thousands of letters from well-wishers around the globe. Among these were several that suggested that perhaps it was time he considered “slowing down” and “taking it easy” after his many fruitful decades as a leader and activist.

During a public gathering celebrating his birthday, the Rebbe shared, “I have been asked: ‘Now that you have attained the age of seventy, what are your plans? It would seem that this is an appropriate time to rest a bit….’

“My response to that is that we must begin to accomplish even more.

“On the occasion of entering the seventies, this year we should establish at least seventy new institutions!

“And don’t be disturbed if during this year we’ll start not seventy but eighty, and maybe even one hundred. On the contrary! May blessings be bestowed upon all those involved—there will surely be no impediments as far as the ten percent is concerned…”

A decade later, when the Rebbe celebrated his eightieth birthday, he again called for a massive expansion of Chabad’s activities during a gathering held in honor of the occasion.

Upon the conclusion of the final segment of the six-hour address—which began at 9:30 p.m. following a full day’s work—the Rebbe personally distributed a gift to each of the ten thousand men, women, and children present: a special edition of the Tanya. The last participant received his copy at 6:15 a.m.

The way the Rebbe celebrated his eightieth birthday relates to a moving exchange he had with a Canadian Jewish senator named Jerry Grafstein, who served in the Canadian Senate for over twenty-five years.

Grafstein related: “It’s been many years now that on my birthday, especially those that mark a full decade, a feeling of sadness and depression accompanies the celebration. We all want to be young, and our birthdays mark the aging process.”

The years passed, and each new decade in his life was accompanied by a period of severe depression.

When celebrating his fiftieth, he experienced a severe crisis.

In his own words: “My mental state was terrible, and I could not recover, even after I received help from professionals.

“My wife suggested I meet the Lubavitcher Rebbe and receive his advice to heal my pain.

“When I arrived, I was welcomed and brought to the Rebbe, who gave me a dollar and blessed me with the traditional ‘blessing and success.’

“Then, unexpectedly, the Rebbe gave me another dollar. When I asked him why the extra one, the Rebbe asked me: ‘What’s bothering you?’

“I felt ashamed to talk to the Rebbe in such a public setting, but the Rebbe handed me a third dollar and gestured at his ears, as if to say: No one’s listening to us.

“Again he asked: ‘What’s bothering you?’

“I told him briefly about my age and sense of lack of fulfilment with each passing decade. The Rebbe asked me, ‘Who was the greatest leader in Jewish history?’

“I knew the answer: ‘Moses.’

“‘And how old was Moses when he took “the first step in his career” and became the leader of the Jewish people?’

“I did not know, so the Rebbe replied: ‘Eighty.’

“‘How is it possible that at the age of eighty, Moses began to lead such a complex people like the Jews?’ wondered the Rebbe. He continued to explain: ‘Because Moses never looked back at what he had already done. Instead, he looked ahead—at what else needed to be done.

“‘Anyone who looks at what needs to be done is young! Whoever looks back at what he did prior will always be old,’ concluded the Rebbe, and he again wished me ‘blessing and success.’”