I believe we all have, on some level, thought about the
question of “what comes next?” For me
the question came front and center a year and half ago. Many of you know that
while Shira was pregnant with Leor both of my mother’s parents passed away. We
honored their memories by naming our son, Leor Ezra, after my grandparents, Lee
and Roz. Both of my grandparents were incredible people, full of love and
laughter, and deeply committed to Judaism.
We trust that Leor will inherit his namesakes’ greatest attributes including
my grandmother’s deep-rooted and unwavering faith.
When my grandmother was in her late 80’s, she was diagnosed
with leukemia. It was not two months
after this diagnosis that she passed away. During that liminal time, when we knew she was
going, yet she was not yet gone, she and I had many conversations about her
faith. After a certain procedure that
she required, we spoke on the phone and she admitted she was scared, “Steven, I
said the Shema.” She was of course referring
to the tradition of reciting the Viddui,
or confessional, that is said before someone dies. The central element of the Viddui is the Shema, and it is thought
those words, “Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad” should be the last
words our lips mutter. Her faith was
always with her.
The blessing, of course, is that my grandmother lived a full
life, yet no matter how old someone is when they die, it is the right of every
family to want more time. During this time, I went to DC to see my dying
grandmother. I sat with her and spoke
about her fears and her faith, and while she was fragile she was stronger then
I would ever be. I then asked her what she believed happened next. She spoke to
me with incredible eloquence about the fact that she believed should be
reunited with her mother, Sarah, for whom I am named, and her father, a man she
had not seen since she was a young girl, as he had been murdered in their
furniture store in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t just that she believed
this to be true…she knew it in the depths of her being. And while she was scared to leave this world,
I believe she entered the next world excited to see all those people she had
loved and lost. And that is my belief as well, that my grandmother (along with
my grandfather, great-grandmother and great-grandfather) are probably looking
down, telling me to talk slower and to smile.
Unfortunately we tend to not talk about death as it makes us
uncomfortable, perhaps we don’t want to be morbid, or believe that by not
talking about it, it simply won’t happen. Yet it is my belief that the more we
can develop our belief in the afterlife the better we will be able to face and
accept death.
Interestingly, while we may be ambivalent to talk about
death, or more specifically the afterlife, our liturgy is not. The concept of
eternal life is a common thread in our prayers.
- In the third blessing of the weekday Amidah, a
prayer we say three times a day, we read: Praised are You, who gives life to the dead.”
- Whenever
I take part in an unveiling ceremony, I point out to the family the acronym of
Hebrew letters typically at the bottom of the stone: Tav, Nun, Tzadi,
Bet, Hey, which stand for – may that person’s soul be bound up in the bonds of eternal life.
- In the concluding blessing we say when called to the Torah for an aliyah: You God have implanted within us eternal life.”
So whether we mean to or not, we talk about the afterlife,
or eternal life…all the time. And so the question becomes what does Judaism say
about the afterlife? In order to answer the question we first need to start our
journey within the text of the Tanakh, the Bible. Yet herein lies one of the
great challenges. The Bible does not
specifically talk about an afterlife. In an incredible paper written by the
renowned Bible scholar Richard Elliott Friedman [Death
and Afterlife: The Biblical Silence, Richard Elliot Friedman, in Judaism in
Late Antiquity:], he explains that the Torah is quick to condemn all
types of Egyptian beliefs and rituals that it believes to be unfit for
Israelite culture – all types except those dealing with the afterlife. The Torah is in no way shy about rebutting the
prevailing culture of the time: no idols no false gods. And yet we know that the afterlife was a huge
part of Egyptian culture… from the pyramids, to the tombs, to mummification. If the Torah had wanted to condemn such
beliefs and practices there is no reason to think that it would not of done so.
And so while we don’t have the Torah explicitly telling us
of a belief in the afterlife, the fact that it is not rejected is almost just
as telling. I began to search for when
the Torah does comment, and if we can learn about what happens when we
die. I started at the beginning. At the
very beginning of the Torah, in Genesis we are told: “And the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and He breathed
into his nostrils the soul of life, and man became a living soul” [Gen
2:7]. Yet in the very next chapter we
read, “you shall eat bread, until you
return to the ground, for you were taken therefrom, for dust you are, and to
dust you will return” [Gen 3:19] When we were created we are given a soul –
yet when we die only our body returns to the dust of the earth. There is a clear separation here between the
body and the soul. God created the body from earth, then “breathed the soul of life, and man became a living soul.” So while we
return the body to the earth from which it was formed, our souls lives on.
I’m sure at one point or another you have heard different
Hebrew terms for the concept of a soul: Neshamah, Nefesh, Ruach. While the words are not used interchangeably,
they all speak of a Divine element within each and every one of us. This spark
of the Divine, this soul given to us by God is thought to be immortal, just as
God is immortal. The concept of b’zelem
elochim, that we are created in God’s image, comes from this very notion of
God giving us our soul, our breath of life. And this soul, this spark, does not
die.
In addition to the immortality of the soul, is there any
proof, to validate my grandmother’s beliefs, that when we die we meet up with
those who came before us? One of my favorite verses describes King Solomon’s
death and subsequent burial in the book of Kings. We are told that Solomon “went to sleep with his [ancestors] fathers”
[I Kings 11:43]. One could argue that this simply meant that Solomon was buried
alongside his family. Perhaps this is the case but I along with many others see
it that he was reunited with those who came before him.
The concept of an afterlife was also not foreign to the
sages of the Talmud. The rabbis on multiple occasions and in varying degrees
talk about “The World to Come”. Once again, we have very few
descriptions of what the next world will be like. Of the few texts we do have
one points to a world where there will be no eating or drinking or business
done of any kind, or jealousy or hatred but those who are sought to do good in
this world will sit with crowns on their heads enjoying the radiance of God.
And who will be given entry into this world? We learn in the 10th
chapter of Mishna Sanhedrin that “all of Israel has a portion in
the world to come” [San 10:1]. In addition we learn, that the world to come is not only for Jews, but for the righteous amongst all the nations [Tosefta San].
What is clear is that in every generation the question of
what happens after we die has been examined. Is also clear through our silence
on this topic that we are reluctant or perhaps unwilling to discuss our own
mortality. And while Judaism may not draw us the perfect picture of the next
world, its understanding of the soul is what I believe is most important.
One of the questions I am asked often by families, who have
been told by doctors and nurses that their loved one can no longer hear them is
whether I believe that to be true. Do I think the individual can still hear
their loved ones’ voices? It is my belief that because of the emphasis Judaism
puts on the soul, on this divine spark in each and every one of us, that the
answer is absolutely yes! When our minds and bodies have failed us, Judaism
teaches us that our souls remain intact.
When we can believe in the separation between the body and soul, it
allows us the ability to show even greater compassion, care and respect for our
loved ones.
This care and respect is continued once our loved ones have
passed. The mitzvah of Kavod Hamet, honor of the deceased, is one of the most
sacred and unfortunately most overlooked teachings. When talking with families
about end-of-life decisions, or even funeral arrangements, I will do my very
best to not have that conversation in the room with the deceased. Why? Because
it’s disrespectful to the soul of the individual who could hear us. This goes hand-in-hand with the explanation
for why traditionally there is always someone present with the deceased until
they are buried, a position known as a shomer
or guard. The idea being that the soul should never be left alone
I go back to my grandmother, and her faith as she knew she
was dying. She was transitioning from
this world to the next, and whether she knew that the viddui was the source or
not, she knew enough to say the shema. The
Viddui prayer can be recited either by the individual or those close to the
individual. Just as Jacob, or more
specifically his children said the Shema on his deathbed so to we follow the
same custom. Interestingly, the Viddui confessional is virtually
identical to the way in which we end the Yom Kippur service this evening, by
saying the Shema. We recite the shema in bed at night as we transition from
wake to sleep. We audibly recite the
words “Baruch Shem Kavod Malchuto Le’Olam va’ed” today and only today on Yom
Kippur, where I argue we are also in this in between state as well. We ask who will live and who will die in the
coming year. We open our hearts and minds and place our faith in God.
While the afterlife is still a great unknown Judaism teaches
us that it will be a place steeped in justice and mercy, a place where we will
be reunited with those who came before us, in a place where we can watch over
the lives of those for whom we left behind.
May all those for whom we have loved and lost, may their
memories be a blessing, and may their souls be bound up the bonds of life.
And let us say AMEN.
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