Genesis 5:27.  “Thus all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred and sixty-nine years...”

  {optional   I’m not sure how old you have to be these days to be considered an “Old Folk.”  I know it used to be that a “senior citizen” was someone sixty-five or over.  The merchants lowered that to sixty, then fifty-five.  I recently opened a bank account that offered special benefits to “senior citizens” who were at least fifty.  Is a fifty year-old considered a senior citizen now?  Mm – Mm – Mm.   Well, I’m forty-nine, but I complained to the clerk that these great “senior” benefits would be mine in a few months and she could save herself a whole lot of trouble if she’d just sign me up as a senior citizen now.  She said no, but I promised to make trouble (senior citizens can make a lot of trouble), so she changed her mind and gave me the senior citizen account.  So, at least at one commercial bank, I’m considered a senior citizen.  I’m also considering joining the “gray panthers” (just as soon as I get a gray hair). 

  Someone said, “Just because you’re considered a senior citizen doesn’t make you an Old Folk because you’re only as old as you think and feel.”  That’s good.  If it’s true, I’m definitely IN with the Old Folks.

   In Yahshua’s day, people lived about 30 years.  You were an elder in the Synagogue at the age of thirty.  At fifty you couldn’t even vote anymore.  Fifty was considered extreme old age then.  Since, our lifespan has increased tremendously, at least percentage-wise, approaching 80 now.  We’re not that much healthier, but because there are so many more of us, the percentage of the older crowd would of necessity increase.  Unfortunately, Social Security and Pension Plans are going down, down, down.  However, Yahshua is coming soon.  I’m certain his pension plan is better than that of the Methodist. }

 

Interview with Methuselah

   When I mentioned the short lifespan of people in Yahshua’ day, Hazel reminded me that some people in the Bible lived really long lives.  There was Enoch, who lived three hundred sixty years, and he was the shortest-lived of all those long-livers mentioned in Genesis chapter five.  Enoch’s short life had no genetic consequences for his son Methuselah, who lived nine hundred and sixty nine years.  Methuselah’s the oldest guy in the Bible.  But some people only know Methuselah because he was immortalized in a song by George Gershwin called “It Ain’t Necessarily So.”  Do you remember Methuselah’s part in that song?  It goes like this.

Methuselah lived nine hundred years;
Methuselah lived nine hundred years.
But what good is livin’ if no gal will give in
To no man who’s nine hundred years?

Now anytime people go on Broadway to see Porgy and Bess, they learn that Methuselah was so old that he had trouble getting a girl friend.

   There’s a legend that George Gershwin wrote these words about Methuselah because Methuselah was still alive in the 1920s and Gershwin tracked him down at the Century Care Center right down the road.  Gershwin simply asked him what the greatest drawback was to being so old.  His answer was, “No lady will say ‘yes’ to a nine hundred year-old man!”  Gershwin put his answer into the lingo of Porgy and Bess.  

   Now I figured if Methuselah was still alive in the 1920s at the Century Care Center, he might still be there today.  And sure enough, I found an old guy over there they call Methuselah.  I didn’t doubt that it was THE Methuselah when I saw him there, watching “The Price is Right” from his wheel chair -- he certainly looked as old as Methuselah.  I had to turn the TV off to get his attention, and he looked at me suspiciously.

   I told him I was the Methodist minister and asked him if he was the real Methuselah, you know, the Bible guy.  He drooled on his pajama top.  “Yeah, sonny, that’s me.  But they don’t call me Methuselah any more; they call me Mr. Meth.  Yeah, that’s what they call me now.  Mr. Meth.”

   I explained to Mr. Meth, “We’ve got Old Folks Day at the church tomorrow and I thought the old folks there would be interested in somebody of your age and good reputation, and I want to interview you.  Is that OK?”

   Mr. Meth didn’t pay a bit of attention to what I said.  He was fiddling with the remote control trying to get Bob Barker back on.  In the meantime, he stammered, “You know, I met George Gershwin here once – he was sittin’ right in that potty chair over there, right there!” he pointed to the potty chair very enthusiastically. 

   I replied, “Yeah, I know, I heard about that but I didn’t think it was true.  But now that I know it is, it’s really exciting, man!” 

   Mr. Meth told me, “He wrote this old song about me, you know?” 

   “Yeah!” I thought.  “I know I’ve got the right guy now!  Listen!  You told him that no gal will give in to no man that’s nine hundred years old, right?” 

   “Yeah, somethin’ like that, sonny.  But he got my age wrong.  At that time, I wasn’t nine hundred.  I was six thousand fifty-two.  And it was hard enough to get me a girlfriend when I was nine hundred; think of how hard it is now!”

   I didn’t want to explore that possibility much farther, but I threw caution to the wind and said.  “I imagine some ‘gal’ would still take you.  You got any money?” 

   “No, sir, not any more since my pension ran out one hundred sixty-seven years before Christ.  You see, the bad financial news is that when my daddy Enoch disappeared on that cloud, he took the family jewels.  We never saw him again because he went with the angels.  So, unlike these young people today. I had to start out with nothing.”

   I tried to commiserate:  “It’s good that your father Enoch went with the angels but too bad he took your inheritance with him.”

   But Mr. Meth just smiled.  “The good news is,” he chuckled, “even though I started out with nothing, I managed to keep a hold of all of it.  That’s why I’ve been living so comfortably these last few hundred years.”

   Hm.  I didn’t get it any more than you did, but I pressed on: “So tell me, Mr. Meth; To what do you attribute your long life?”

   He replied, “I don’t eat ---- but I do tip a drop of Sterno every day for the sake of my many infirmities.”

   I couldn’t believe it.  “Sterno?  Are you kidding?  Isn’t that the fuel caterers use to heat up food?” 

   “Yeah, that’s it.  And it’s pretty hard to get round here but I’ve got an arrangement with one of the dishwashers.  He gets me a little Sterno and I let him watch Oprah on his lunch hour.”  

   He must have been lying.  “Sir, I’d think that drinking Sterno would kill you, not keep you alive.” 

   He said, “Well, sir, to tell the truth, drinking Sterno has saved me a lot of energy by getting my brain cells down to a manageable level, you see.” 

   That’s amazing.  “Oh, I never thought of that, sir.  Do you think your reputation as a patriarch has suffered because of your reliance on Sterno to keep you alive?” 

   He was ready for that question.  “My reputation?  No sir!  As a matter of fact, my reputation has improved with advancing age.  Being this old, no matter how many pills I take now, no one round here calls me a hypochondriac any more.” 

   “That’s good,” I said.  “In fact, in looking at you, you do seem to be pretty spry for a guy over six thousand years old...”  Of course, I was lying to him, but I intend to repent tomorrow in church. 

   He said, “Yes, I am pretty lively for my age, at least that’s what the orderlies tell me.  Why do you think they call me ‘Mr. Meth’ anyway?” 

   “Because you’re a Methodist?  You can’t be.  Most Methodists are dead!”

   “No, dummy.  ‘Meth’ not as in Methodist but as in Methamphetamine, also known as ‘Speed.’  Didn’t I tell you about all the pills us old folks have to take?  Some are pep-up pills!”

   I had it figured out.  “So they call you Mr. Meth not because it’s short for Methuselah or because you’re a Methodist, but because...”

   “Yes, that’s right, sonny – now enough’s enough about that, get my drift?”

   Should Methuselah be talking like this to a preacher?  I asked him, “I’m sure you sowed wild oats in all those years, haven’t you?” 

   Methuselah replied, “Ain’t that a fact.  But lately my wild oats went to seed and sprouted Metamucil, prune bushes and raisin bran cookies.  Nyuk ha ha!”  That was the first time I saw Methuselah laugh.  Mashed up prunes dribbled from his false teeth.

   But I pressed on, “Now that you’ve become so old, dignified and mature, what do you think is the greatest benefit of your many years?” 

   “That’s a pretty hard question, sonny boy.  But I can honestly tell you that now, no matter who comes in the room, I don’t feel like I have to suck in my stomach any more.”  I was horrified to realize that I was sucking in my stomach at that very moment, and he probably saw me do it. 
   But I persisted.  “I’m looking forward to that kind of self confidence, sir.  I’m sure you’ve seen so much and had so many great and historical experiences in the last six thousand plus years.  You’ve probably done just about everything.”

   “Everything but being the mother of a large family,” he snorted.

So what’s your favorite pastime now, Mr. Methuselah?”

   “Oh, that’s an easy one.  What’s an old guy like me supposed to do anyway?  Besides watching Bob Barker and Okra Winfrey on TV, I really like people to tell me all about their sicknesses and operations.  You know, gall stones, eye surgeries, upset stomachs, ingrown toenails – that sort a thing.  Us oldies like to talk about stuff like that.  We do it all the time.  By the way, what’s been ailing you lately, bud?”

   I fell for it.  “Well, I’ve been having a little trouble with my . . . O NEVER MIND!  Since you’re pretty famous, I imagine lots of reporters and fans beat a path to your door, right?” 

   “O yeah, sonny, people come to my door all the time – all the time.  But being so old, I usually just have to shout at them to come back in an hour or so.”

   “What?”  I didn’t understand that at all.

   “Why, boy, you mean the toilet door, don’t you?  You can’t expect me to answer that every time someone knocks.  I wouldn’t have time to do anything else.”   

   I wondered how much longer I could hold out.  “I’m sure folks treat you kindly and with due respect on account of your celebrity, sir; being a Bible hero and all.” 

   “Yeah, they really do.  These folks at the Century Care Center are my kind of people.  ‘Some days you da dog, some days you da fire plug,’ that’s for sure.”

   “Then you don’t think you’ll live forever?” 

   “Well, boy, these days I do spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter.  Then I go somewhere to get something.  Then I wonder what I’m here after anyway, that’s what.” 

   I couldn’t stand any more of this crazy talk; I wanted to leave.  But we hadn’t mentioned religion at all and that’s what he is famous for, being a Bible character and all.  So I just had one more question for Mr. Methuselah. 

   “Sir, the Bible says you were close to Enoch and Enoch was close God.  Do you have a prayer you’d like to share with the people on Old Folks Day down at the church?” 

   Methuselah finally became very pious, and he folded his wrinkled, old hands.  “Boy, the Lord’s been powerfully good to me all these thousands of years.  Here’s a prayer I’d like to pass on to the old folks at Byrneville coming to your church tomorrow.  Let us pray: Please God; grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway, the good fortune to run into the ones that I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference.  Amen.” 

 

   And that was the end of my interview with Methuselah at the Century Car Center right down the road yesterday afternoon.  There was one other thing that he said, though, that I’ll share with you.

   He said, “You’re the first one to visit since George Gershwin eighty years ago.  Will you tell ‘them’ old folks tomorrow to come over here and see me?  I’m really lonely.”  Yeah, that’s what he said.  Why don’t you go see him?  --  Which one is he?  Just find the old man in the wheelchair drooling prunes in front of a television set just about the time “The Price is Right” comes on.  Any old Methuselah will do.  December 7, 2002 Jackson Snyder