The Life-Affirming Power of the Jewish Funeral
Modern Judaism is unique in its views on the afterlife, because it practically has none. No heavenly rewards are promised for worldly virtue, nor is Hell threatened for sinners. In fact, it is the rare American Jew who can even name the place the Torah says people go when they die. So it is a bit of a mystery that Jewish funerals receive the elaborate treatment and importance they are accorded in Judaism.
How, when most funerals emphasize the passage of the spirit to the afterlife, can a religion with almost no afterlife deal with death?
Above all, Jewish funerals aim to honor the deceased. The burial of the dead is considered one of the highest obligations of Judaism. In the days of the Temple, even the high priest — who was normally prohibited from touching corpses — was obligated to bury the deserted dead.
The Jewish way of dealing with death is characterized by a head-on confrontation with the reality of death.
Embalming and adorning the body is forbidden, as it makes a mockery of God’s gift of life, and it represents a sort of self-deception. The Jewish metaphor for death is “dust to dust.”
As opposed to American Christian funerals, where the actual burial occurs only after the service is concluded and the mourners have left, Jewish mourners physically bury their own dead. The principal mourners place the first shovelfuls of earth into the grave, symbolizing their full acceptance of the deceased’s separation from the world.
In Jewish funerals, the hollow percussion of the dirt hitting the coffin marks the finality of death. As Maurice Lamm so aptly puts it in his book The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning:
Psychologically, the heart-rending thud of earth on the casket is enormously beneficial. In proclaiming finality, it helps the mourner overcome the illusion that his relative still lives; it answers his disbelief that death has indeed claimed its victim; it quiets his lingering doubts that this may be only a bad dream. The earth-filling process dispels such illusions and starts the mourner on the way to recovery and reconciliation.
The recessional away from the graveside serves to further direct the attention to the mourners. The mourners walk between two parallel lines of family and friends, who formally comfort them. After the recessional, everyone involved washes their hands. This symbolizes that, while the dead are respected, they are not worshiped. It also metaphorically removes the last traces of death from the community. The focus now is on the living.
The second phase of Jewish mourning is the seven-day period of Shiva. During this time, mourners do not bathe, wear clean clothes, or cut their hair. They are absolutely excused from all work and from conducting any business (except in cases of great need, such as a town’s only doctor being called to perform emergency medicine).
Shiva begins with a condolence meal, prepared for the mourners by family, friends, and neighbors. The meal traditionally includes foods that are strongly associated with life: bread, eggs, lentils, and wine. As is the case for most post-funeral sharing of food, this meal marks the beginning of the bereaved’s reintegration into society. Judaism places the near-universal reintegration feast mark the beginning of the mourning period rather than the end as a powerful statement of the Jewish attitude toward mourning.
The obligation to mourn with the bereaved is considered one of Judaism’s highest obligations on members of the community. Rather than leaving the bereaved alone for their primary mourning period, Jewish tradition reintegrates them into society and then mourns with them.
Visiting the bereaved during Shiva is considered a mitzvah, a holy obligation. The visitor comes to the house of mourning, not to convince the mourner to emerge, but to provide silent companionship. Jewish tradition acknowledges the emptiness of any words of condolence, and recognizes that the only comfort the bereaved can feel is the warmth of human presence in their solitude. This silent sympathy prevents the bereaved from withdrawing completely, but it also refrains from pushing them toward society before they are ready.
After the seven days of Shiva, the thirty days of Sheloshim begin the emergence back into society of the bereaved. While many prohibitions of Shiva are removed, the mourners still may not attend parties, get married, or adorn themselves.
The mourning period is not considered fully complete for a whole year. There are few requirements during the year of mourning, and the mourner is mostly reintegrated into society. But one important obligation is the daily recitation of the Kaddish. One of the most ancient prayers in Jewish tradition, the Kaddish is recited for the first time immediately after the coffin has been covered at the funeral, then every day for a full year.
These are the words of the prayer:
May God’s name be exalted and hallowed throughout the world that God created, as is God’s wish. May God’s sovereignty soon be accepted, during our life and the life of all Israel. And let us say: Amen.
May God’s great name be praised throughout all time.
Glorified and celebrated, lauded and worshiped, exalted and honored, extolled and acclaimed may the Holy One be, praised beyond all song and psalm, beyond all tribute that mortals can utter. And let us say: Amen.
Let there be abundant peace from heaven, with life’s goodness for us and for all Israel. And let us say: Amen.
May the One who brings peace to God’s universe bring peace to us and to all Israel. And let us say: Amen.
That’s it, the entire prayer. Doesn’t it seem like something is missing?
The Kaddish makes no mention of death at all. The mourner does not pray for the soul of the deceased, but rather for peace “during our life and the life of all Israel.” The Kaddish is fundamentally a celebration of life.
The whole Jewish approach to life and death emphasizes the priority of life above all else. Jews are allowed to break any commandment (except murder, rape, and idolatry) in order to save a life. And a bride and groom are not required to attend funerals in the first seven days after their wedding, because the new life of a marriage is considered more important than death.
As a celebration of life, the Kaddish is deeply comforting to the bereaved.
At a time when the mourner finds it difficult to see beauty and hope in the world, the Kaddish forces her to declare, twice a day, the glory and transcendence of God, and the passionate hope for peace.
The Kaddish also consoles through the requirement that it be said in the presence of a ten-person minyan. It forces the mourner to be among friends and family, and not to retreat.
The Kaddish serves as a memorial of the deceased, and his greatest gift to those who survive. Jewish law requires the Kaddish be recited twice a day for a year. Seven hundred and thirty times, a group of ten people praises God’s holiness and reaches toward a future of peace. Thus, by the fact of her death, the deceased brings holiness into the world.
At first look, Jewish funerals come across as cold and heartless. In Judaism, the dead are dead. There is little mention of an afterlife, and the entire funeral service aims to drive home to the mourners that their loved ones are irretrievably gone, even to the point of forcing them to physically throw dirt onto the coffin themselves. I have never heard the phrase “in a better place” at a Jewish funeral.
But the dead continue to bring holiness to the world through the good they inspire in the survivors. By emphasizing community, holiness, and peace in the face of death, Jewish tradition teaches that we can best honor our dead by living our own lives as well as we can. And the idea that the dead continue to contribute to peace and holiness in the world helps assuage personal fears. Because we continue to heal the world after we die, we need not fear death.
*Update: My grandmother died last night.
It’s a strange coincidence that this should happen the same day I published a piece about funerals, but life is funny sometimes. I have written before about my grandmother’s lifetime commitment to civic engagement and social justice, which was an inspiration to everyone who knew her. She was an incredible woman, full of life and energy, and she will be greatly missed. As my family prepares to grieve her, I am comforted that we will be supported by these beautiful mourning rituals.
