CK - Further Reading Articles, essays, personal reflections

It’s been called the greatest of all mitzvot, this gentle favor that can never be repaid. For at least 1,000 years and probably longer, Jewish communities have followed biblical and Talmudic injunctions to bury their dead expeditiously and without extravagance, whether poor or rich, in simple white clothing and buried in a plain, unadorned wooden casket. The Hebrew word for casket, “aron,” is the same as a synagogue’s ark. In fact, a body from which a soul has departed is considered akin to and treated with the same reverence as a Torah that can no longer partake in communal worship and learning, emptied of the divine spark yet deserving the utmost honor. As such, being a vessel crafted in the Ineffable’s image, any effort to alter its essence, whether with cosmetics, physical intrusion (e.g., breaking bones or sewing shut mouths for a particular effect or presentation), embalming, done to slow down the natural “return to dust” that Jews and Muslims welcome with open arms, has been interpreted as an affront to the Creator and the person who has died. Instead, our traditions call on us to perform the mitzvot during this transitional life juncture with Kavod ha-meit and Nichum avelim, by honoring the person now dead and comforting the mourners who live and grieve.

How do we honor the meit or meitah, the person for whom a community performs these final mitzvot? First and foremost, the body is never left alone from the moment of death until burial. Our tradition tells us that this can be a confusing time for the soul, and especially if death came unexpectedly. So we, the living, friends and/or family, those on in years as well as youth, sit in the same room with the body as shomrim, guards who watch over the meit/ah. We are told that the soul, which remains close to the departed body until burial, is comforted by the recitation of Psalms. Today, it is also common to read poetry or other literature that the meit/ah enjoyed when alive or to softly sing, chant or even gently play a musical instrument. It is a time for the shomrim to reassure the departing soul that, in the journey ahead, he or she will be fine and loved, as they were in life, and that they won’t be alone.

We also honor the meith/ah in the way that we prepare him or her for burial, with men caring for a meit and women for a meitah. Traditions vary in small details, but there are commonalities. Teams of 3-4 persons in a tahara team carefully remove, as feasible, any medical care remnants (e.g., tubes used for fluids or drainage). The body is then gently bathed for a final time, while reciting passages from the Song of Songs, extolling a beloved’s beauty. Nail polish is removed, nails cleaned and hair is combed or brushed. Hair, nail clippings and most other substances originating from the meit/ah are collected in a bag, placed in the aron and buried with the meit/ah. A continual stream of water, from head to toe, is poured from buckets, completing the purification ceremony. After drying, the meit/ah is clothed inthe simple, white burial clothing, the tachrichim, tying knots that symbolize the Hebrew name, Shaddai, the All-Powerful, as if he or she were the High Priest about to enter the Holy of Holies. If the meit/ah wore their own white kittel on Yom Kippur, it is used as the final piece of burial clothing on top of the tachrichim.

Lastly, the dressed meit/ah is lifted and placed in the aron, wrapped in a sheet and, if preferred, in one’s own tallit. The tahara team then asks forgiveness from the meit/ah for any inadvertent discomfort that they might have caused. The casket is closed, a memorial candle is lit and placed on the lid, and the aron – often covered – is then wheeled to a room where shmira continues until the funeral.

Up until the mid-20th century in America, a community’s chevra kadisha, or “holy fellowship,” was entrusted with these end-of-life responsibilities. Now, Jews typically turn to the profit-based, American funeral industry to “take care of the details.” Many Jewish funeral homes are no longer operated by the families that started them and may be owned by large, corporate conglomerates. There is an alternative, however.

For roughly the past 30 years, there has been a movement afoot within Jewish communities to reclaim some of the traditional terrain in this life cycle domain. Synagogues have successfully engaged in the following initiatives: forming denominational/ inter-denominational congregational and community chevre kadisha; negotiating favorable funeral packages with Jewish and non-Jewish funeral homes; creating the means to provide all congregants with pre-arranged funerals and burials as benefits of synagogue membership; assisting and sustaining aging Jewish cemeteries; and establishing a growing number of ” cemeteries that limit the human footprint within their boundaries.

Last Yom Kippur, some speakers noted that Bnai Keshet would be creating a chevra kadisha in the coming year. And we did. When the moment revealed itself, a full brigade of community members volunteered for shmira, sewed tachrichim, took part in tahara, chanted in the funeral home and accompanied our friend to her final resting place. In so doing, we collectively and intensively manifested brit kehillah, a covenantal relationship with our community and this year’s congregational theme. Baruch ha-Shem.

In the coming year, we will build on these experiences. We will continue to learn and to build the capacities we choose as our reclaimed Jewish tradition. There will be programming throughout the year, including a full weekend of learning this fall. If you are so inclined to take part in these activities or are interested in learning more about them, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Joel Ackelsberg