Chapter Seven: A Case Study in
Mourning: Jewish Religion
As the previous chapter noted, Jewish
religion presents the most detailed instructions on the process of
mourning. Even though the practices have
been modified by modern Jews, the rituals remain distinctive and impressive.
This
chapter is about the tradition, the origin and some of the changes in the
burial and mourning practices of Judaism.
However, it is not possible to record all the variations in contemporary
Jewish practice.
One must first emphasize that Judaism is
centered on life not death. As I will
presently elaborate, death does not have the dominant role in Judaism that it
did in some of its neighboring religions in antiquity, such as Egyptian and
Babylonian religion, or in Christianity which is so focused on the death of
Jesus. Jewish development of elaborate
rituals for death, burial and mourning may therefore seem paradoxical. Perhaps when dying is kept in perspective,
when it does not become a dominant obsession which blocks ordinary life, then a
community has rituals that remind the mourners how to move back from ordinary
life and then, step by step, how to rejoin the community.
Whatever the origin of Jewish death and
mourning rituals, they are powerful examples of many of the principles
discussed in the preceding chapter.
Three of these principles can be immediately noted. First, the entire process of dying, burial
and mourning is not confined to the private sphere; but neither is it a splashy
public affair. The rituals of community
life allow a controlled personal expression of anger, guilt, grief and hope.
Second, the process that begins at death
and ends a year later is laid out in precise stages. Maurice Lamm, in The Jewish Way of Death and
Mourning, names five stages.[i] Although the journey might be divided in a
slightly different way, what is clear is that
markers exist for the mourner.
Third, the process of mourning comes to an
end. Jewish tradition provided a period
of a year for mourning one=s parents. The same length seems appropriate for other
major losses. In the early centuries of
the common era, a second burial often marked the year=s anniversary. Today the unveiling of a memorial or
tombstone may take the place of this second burial.
This chapter is written for non-Jews who
are not likely to know much about Jewish practices. Some contemporary Jews may not be aware of
some of these practices or may not have reflected much on their
significance. The origin of these
practices was undoubtedly religious. The
purpose was not meeting psychological needs. (Mourning as discussed in rabbinic
tradition was an obligation not a need).
Nonetheless, one can still take account of the psychological relevance
of such rituals.
Is there something that both Jew and
Gentile could learn from these traditional rituals? Geoffrey Gorer, in Death, Grief and
Mourning, concluded that Orthodox Jews were one of the few groups in
England and the United States that had an adequate form of mourning. Gorer proposed at the end of his study the
need for a Asecular ritual@ that might fill the role that
religious rituals of mourning once had.[ii] Such a project may or may not be possible
without an underlying belief system that the ritual reflects.
Jewish rituals concerned with death implied
a view of an afterlife, or what is usually called Athe world-to-come.@
Archeological data from tombs, together with liturgical prayers for the
dead and the mourners, are the main sources for understanding Jewish belief in
a life after death. Jewish tradition is
skimpy on speculation about an afterlife.
In this regard it is closer to Buddhism than to Christianity.
Neither Jewish nor Buddhist religions deny
the reality of a life after death. They
are simply skeptical that we can know one way or another, and speculation may
distract us from attending to the life we do have. The Talmud says Ait were better for the man never to
be born who thinks about four things: what is above and what is below, what was
before and what will be afterward.@[iii] Thus, philosophically, Jewish
tradition could be called Aagnostic@ (Anot know@) about an afterlife. But in community practices there was implied
a survival of the dead and a journey of the dead to a final form of existence.
The question of an afterlife is not the
focus of the Bible and Talmud. According
to them, the best way to deal with death is to live life in its fullness. Summing up the Talmudic comparison of the
living and the dead, David Kraemer writes: AThe assertion of the ultimate indispensability of the
flesh...characterizes rabbinic Judaism more fundamentally than perhaps any
other belief.@[iv] A world-to-come is not a spiritual
world which is imagined to be a second story on the existing world. It is, rather, a world that can only emerge
from the end of time in Athis world.@
A favorite comparison in the Talmud is
between death and weddings. When a
funeral and a wedding conflict, the corpse must yield; life takes precedence
over death. More generally, however,
death and weddings are compared for their similarity. One should make preparation for death just as
one prepares for a wedding, remembering to bring the ring.[v] The world as a whole is compared to a wedding. AUltimately the partners to the wedding die - but the seed of
life grows and death is conquered for the seed of the future carries the germ
of the past.@[vi]
During the process of mourning, as is the
case in the rest of life, Jewish law requires that we take care of
ourselves. Thus, diet, exercise, sleep,
hygiene, avoidance of injury are owed to the self.[vii] It is particularly important that mourning,
which is a kind of dying for the living, be carefully circumscribed. Taking the example of David in 2Sam.12:22-23
- life goes on despite the devastating loss of his child - Jewish tradition
provides care for the mourner and an eventual end to mourning. The practices described in the following
sections are a determined affirmation of life by means of a realistic
acknowledgment of death=s limited control over an individual=s life.
From
Death to Burial
The first stage of the journey begins at
death and ends at burial. There is a
strict separation between the period preceding burial (aninut) and the
period afterward (avelut). In the
first period, all of the attention is on the Aneeds@ and honor of the deceased. Only with burial does the focus turn to the
survivors who at that point become mourners.[viii] The protocol for preparation of the dead body
was quite consistent in rabbinic times (the second to sixth centuries
C.E.). Some of the practices have been
modified but much of the ritual survives to this day.[ix]
The dying person is encouraged to recite
the Viddui, a final confession of faults. God is asked to forgive the dying person=s sins and to protect the surviving
family. The prayer ends with an
affirmation of faith in God. There is a
kind of Aacceptance@ implied both for the dying person and
the family: AMay it be thy will to heal me. But if death is my lot, then I accept it from
thy hand with love.@
The first
words spoken at the moment of death are ABlessed is the truthful judge.@[x]
The dying person should not be left alone
but there should be no grasping when the time for death has come. Foreshadowing contemporary hospice practice,
the medieval Sefer Hasidim says that the dying person should not be
compelled to eat if he or she cannot swallow.[xi] The attending community is not to pray for
extending life when the death throes are evident. The Talmud tells a story of a Rabbi Josua who
lay dying. His disciples in the next
room were praying for his recovery. A
pious maid stopped them, saying AFor what are you praying? You are praying for his
agony. He is with God, let him go.@
The Talmud praises the maid.[xii]
The Aacceptance@ that is encouraged is not based on
any romantic or sentimental idea of death.
The law (halakhah) does not gloss over the sorrowful and ugly aspects
of death. It places careful restrictions
on behavior immediately following death, a time of great emotion. The ritual tearing of a garment (keriah)
was originally done on hearing of the death of a loved one. The ritual is now usually performed at the
time of burial. The anger and sorrow
implied by the gesture are reflected in the survivor=s exemption from prayer obligations;
one is allowed to feel a certain alienation from God. AThe halakhah has tolerated those >crazy=, torturing thoughts and doubts. It did not command the mourner to disown them
as contradicting the basic halakhic doctrine of man=s election as king of the universe.@[xiii]
The main focus is the dead body which is
to be treated with honor, respect and dignity.
The corpse is compared to a damaged Torah scroll which is no longer used
but still deserves reverence.[xiv] From the moment of death until the burial,
the body is not to be left alone. The
family and the community must arrange for watchers (shomrin), friends or
relatives of the deceased.
In the past, the task of protecting the
body and preparing it for burial fell to a group of esteemed members of the
society called Chevra Kadisha (Aholy society@).
They began their service to the person while he or she was dying,
rotating their presence, offering prayers and listening to confession. After the death they were charged with Apurifying@ the body. That rite consisted mainly of washing (taharah);
in ancient times the body was also anointed.
The Aimprovement@ of the body is mostly spiritual, in
the silent prayers which accompany each gesture. The actual view of the body is kept to a
minimum. The body is present but
concealed; the face must be obscured.[xv]
Taharah can be a name for the entire process of mourning; the whole
gamut of emotions in the mourning process are signaled in the washing of the
body, the prayers of forgiveness, praise and petition. The Chevra Kadisha is still found
among some orthodox groups in the United States and in Israel.
After the body is washed, it is placed on
straw in a simple wooden coffin. A
shroud or sheet is sometimes used to cover the body. Embalming is not practiced and cremation was
forbidden. The rationale is that the
body is to decompose Anaturally.@
A return to the earth from whence human life comes is appropriate at the
end of life. From the standpoint of
Jewish tradition, much of contemporary funeral practice is Aunnatural,@ that is, an attempt to deny the
reality of death. In the Jewish view,
the dead body is shown respect by being placed in the ground within a short
time, surrounded by the simplest materials.[xvi]
Burial
The standard time for burial is within
twenty-four hours after death. However,
exceptions are made if time for distant travel is needed. The burial is a simple ritual with a number
of gestures specified by tradition, together with variety in what is said. The customary division of labor was to have
the rabbi give the eulogy; mournful crying was by a hired chorus of women. Today the eulogy is often given by one of the
mourners. Or the personal writings of
the deceased might be read. A commonly
used prayer for the beginning of the service is Psalm twenty-three: AThe Lord is my shepherd, I shall not
want. He makes me to lie down in green
pastures.@
Weeping is a natural and healthy reaction
to sorrow but Aexcessive weeping@ is thought to be unseemly. The Shulhan Aruk, one of the most
important medieval document on death, says: AOne should not grieve too much for the dead and whosoever
grieves excessively is really grieving for someone else. The Torah has limits for every stage of
grief, and we may not add to them: three for weeping, seven for lamenting, and
thirty for abstaining from laundered garments and from cutting the hair - and
no more.@[xvii]
The three hallmarks of the burial service
are the eulogy (hesped), the prayer of compassion (El Malai Rakhamim)
and the great prayer of praise, the Kaddish.
The earliest example of the eulogy is
found in the Talmud.[xviii] The eulogy=s main purpose is to honor the dead, but it is also used to
evoke sorrow. It is not directly
addressed to the deceased but concerns the life and accomplishments of the
deceased. The earliest examples of the
eulogy were often in poetry. In modern
times, eulogizing takes on a more personal slant in that there is resistance to
impersonal formulas used for referring to the dead.
The prayer of compassion, the El Malai
Rakhamim, is recited after the body is lowered into the grave. It expresses our intense sense of
separation. Heard many times before, it
has a powerful newness with the name of the dead person included for the first
time. The prayer expresses trust in the
mercy and justice of God. In prayers for
the dead, the mourner is reminded of the universal laws of creation and
destruction. One=s personal feelings are always
placed in the context of trust in a compassionate God.
That attitude is especially manifest in
the Kaddish, the central prayer in the process.
AThe ceremonial point at which aninut
is transformed into avelut, despair into intelligent sadness, and
self-negation into self-affirmation, is
to be found in the recital of the Kaddish at the grave.@[xix]
Although the term Kaddish is now strongly associated with mourning, the
prayer did not originate there. Most
forms of the Kaddish do not mention death.
The prayer is essentially a gloria, a hymn of praise to God. It may have started as a liturgical corollary
to pedagogical activity. That is
suggested by the contrast between the Agreat Kaddish@ or the Rabbi=s Kaddish and the Aminor Kaddish@ for children. The Aburial Kaddish@ adds a paragraph on the
resurrection of the dead and the restoration of the temple.
The Kaddish both sanctifies God=s name and urges a Ahealing of the world@ (tikkan olam). As such, it is a prayer for messianic
restoration and a hastening of the time when this world is identified with the
world-to-come. The association of
Kaddish with death is easy enough to understand. But it was only after the suffering of the
Crusades that the Kaddish took on its special relation to both the ceremony of
burial and the mourning period that follows when the Amourner=s Kaddish@ is recited.
I noted earlier that the tearing of the
garment (keriah) was originally done at the time of death but it is now
usually done at the burial. It is a
symbolic expression of the violent feelings that the death of a loved one can
engender.[xx] The garment is torn on the left side for a
parent, on the right side for other relatives.
The ritual takes its origin from Jacob in the Bible (Gen.37:34) who rent
his garments upon hearing of the death of his son, Joseph. As the garment is torn Ato expose the heart,@ a prayer is said in praise of AGod the true judge.@
The torn garment is worn during the mourning period that follows. Jewish law permits the garment to be sewn
back together. The tear in the garment
remains as it does on the mourner=s heart, the scar remaining as memory of the loss.
At a Jewish funeral the coffin is lowered
into the ground while the mourners are still present. It would be considered an affront to leave
the body unburied.[xxi] That moment can be especially painful but
this completion of burial is part of the realistic attitude toward death. The act of covering the coffin with dirt is
performed by the mourners. Each one
takes up a shovel and tosses some dirt into the grave. The shovel is not handed from one person to
the next. Each one takes up the shovel -
on the basis that misery should not be handed around.[xxii]
The ritual near the end of the burial
ceremony, as people are getting ready to leave, is to pass through a line that
is composed of the mourners. All who are
present, except for the immediate family, form parallel lines a few feet
apart. The mourners slowly pass
through. They pause a number of times as
those present say in unison, AMay you be comforted among the
mourners of Jerusalem and Zion.@
This ritual manages well the exiting from the grave site, neither an
unhealthy lingering nor an unseemly quick departure.
A final gesture on leaving the cemetery is
to pluck a few blades of grass and throw it over the shoulder. The act conveys a pivoting from the Aneeds@ of the deceased to the needs of the
mourner. The work at the cemetery is
complete, but the cycle of mourning is just beginning.
After leaving the cemetery or at the
beginning of shiva there is a ritual washing of hands. This is a very ancient rite that continues to
be practiced in some communities today.
Those whose lives have been touched by death are considered to be Aimpure@.
It is interesting that by the middle ages this ritual was already
questioned. The community leaders (geonim)
disagreed among themselves about this rite of washing. It seems, however, that attempts to suppress
the rite were unsuccessful.[xxiii]
This acknowledgment points up the fact that
popular traditions often differ from the rules and interpretations enjoined by
community leaders. Funeral practices are
perhaps the most difficult rituals to change.
Some of these Jewish practices (and similarly Christian practices) may
have pagan origins but became embedded in popular piety. Community leaders can either fight against
the practice or absorb it into the tradition with a reinterpretation of its
meaning.
Shiva
Many non-Jews are familiar with the term
shiva. It is simply the word for seven
but its meaning is tied to the first week of mourning after the funeral. The seven days are an inversion of God=s work of creation insofar as shiva
begins with death. Reform Judaism has
shortened the observance of shiva to three days, based on the application of a
law that permits abbreviations.[xxiv] In the more traditional observance, the first
three days are the most intense when there is a total cessation from ordinary
business. All of the peculiar small
rituals during the seven days are designed to set up a protective barrier and
encourage quiet reflection on the part of the mourners. The mourner is to live as if dead in a space
between the defiled land of death and the land of sanctity and life.[xxv]
The mourners return from the funeral to
the Ahouse of mourning.@
A candle is lit which will burn for the next seven days. During the week, the synagogue moves into the
house. A meal is prepared by friends in
the community. This Ameal of consolation@ is symbolically important and it is
also a practical need. What better way
to show care than to provide food for someone whose attention is not on getting
a meal.
Shiva is a time of silences. Those who visit the mourner are not to offer
customary greetings. The mourner speaks
first, or has the option of remaining silent. This rule removes the awkwardness
of Awhat do I say@?
Physical presence speaks volumes.
When people leave, they can rely on a prayer formula: AMay you be comforted among the
mourners of Jerusalem and Zion.@
Many of the practices of shiva are
concerned with a person=s physical appearance and ordinary
comforts of life. Thus, hair is not cut,
clothes are not washed, leather shoes are not worn. The mourner is confined to a world of quiet
grief. Pleasure in life is restricted;
sorrow is thought to bring atonement for possible failures by the deceased and
insensitivity on the part of mourners.
Two of the distinctive rituals of shiva
are the covering of mirrors and sitting on low stools. The covered mirrors fit within the theme of
letting one=s physical appearance move off the
screen of social acceptance. In ancient
times, the ritual may have been tied to the blocking of evil spirits from
intruding on the gathering.
Sitting on a low chair or stool is
apparently inspired by the Book of Job.
Job=s friends came and sat with him Ato the earth.@
The symbolism here seems clear,
nearness to the earth where the deceased has been placed. Our word Ahumility@ derives from the same word as does
earth. The Book of Job calls for
acknowledgment and acceptance of God=s mysterious ways; humans are creatures born of the
earth. AThey give birth astride of a grave,
the light gleams an instant and then it=s dark once more.@[xxvi]
When shiva is over, the end is marked by
doing some action that has been forbidden during the previous week. An example is the hammering of a nail into
wood. The loud rap of the hammer awakens
the mourner to the next stage of the journey.
Like ripping a garment, hammering a nail gives physical expression to
pent up feelings. During the time of
mourning, withdrawal into one=s soul is needed but not so much as
to be cut off from the community that is supportive of the mourner.
Shiva, the centerpiece of the process of
Jewish mourning, is well structured to allow both withdrawal for the mourner and
a protective care for the community. The
ritual was not designed for psychological well-being but it serves that end
quite well. With reference to mourning
and much else in the culture, there is a great resistance to judging actions as
good or bad. To the extent that this
attitude reflects an unwillingness to judge people=s subjective guilt, the change may
be for the better. But human beings are
properly Ajudgmental@ about whether an activity is health
giving or destructive.
In Mourning and Mitzvah, author Ann
Brener says, AAs with all the questions that
mourners ask, there are no right or wrong answers. Mourning is a necessary form of
regression. We do what we do because we
need to do it. The behavior of mourning
should not be judged.@[xxvii]
That is a strange conclusion to draw while detailing the right and
proper rituals of mourning.
Sometimes there are right answers and
certainly there are sometimes wrong answers.
In the next paragraph, Brener writes ANevertheless, some behavior does raise red
flags. We need to be on the lookout for
behavior that is destructive in a way that might have long term effects.[xxviii] She cites as examples reliance on drugs and
alcohol, and abusive behavior to others.
So it turns out that the behavior of mourning can be judged in a way
that proscribes abuse of oneself or others, even while there is allowance of
personal variations within an accepted range of behavior.
Shiva to the First
Year Anniversary
Following the seven days of shiva the next
stage of mourning is the period up to thirty days after the death (sheloshim). The period of mourning may then continue
beyond that time up to a year. In
earlier times the period of mourning for a year was only to be for one=s parents. However, it would be apparent to most people
today that a longer period than a month is needed for one=s child, or spouse, or intimate
friend. Jewish tradition had the ritual
in place for parents and had only to extend the application of the ritual to
other family members and close friends.
Whatever the length of mourning, it is not
just a stringing out of the same feelings.
The passage of time has markers to help the grieving party be slowly
reintegrated into the life of the community.
Particularly in the first thirty days, there is a transition at each
Sabbath. Bit by bit the mourner moves in
four stages back into an ordinary role
in the congregation.[xxix]
The central activity during these thirty
days is the saying of the mourner=s Kaddish three times daily.
The prayer is not said alone but only in the presence of a quorum of ten
people (minyan). Such a practice
requires a deep commitment of time and attention. Leon Weltsier=s moving book, entitled Kaddish
is the story of his doubts, struggles and success at praying for his father
during the year after his father=s death. Not everyone is in a position to carry out this
practice fully. Those who cannot attend
the prayer service may make a donation to a Talmudic academy or a nursing home. The recitation there of the Kaddish is judged
to be equal to recitation by the mourner.
The original impetus of the mourner=s Kaddish praising God was words
spoken by the dead person=s son. Quite appropriately, it is also called the
orphan=s Kaddish. It implies a hope that God would alleviate
the suffering of the dead person.
Although the prayer was to be said for a year, the time was usually
shortened to eleven months. This
abbreviating was a sign of confidence in God and a trust in the goodness of one=s parents.
During the year of prescribed mourning, a
friend may offer words of condolence, but not inquire about the mourner=s well being. After the year, he or she can ask, AHow are you,@ but not offer direct condolence on
the death of a loved one. Mourning is
suspended for Shabbat and for certain holidays.
The obligation of rejoicing with the community takes precedence over the
obligation to mourn.[xxx] AOn Shabbat,@ said Rabbi Gamliel, Ait is as if a mourner is not a
mourner.@[xxxi]
The
year of mourning is circumscribed by the one year anniversary (Yahrzeit)
and a quarterly remembrance in a prayer called Yizkor. This latter prayer is a request made to God
to remember the deceased. The petitioner
joins in partnership with God to keep an awareness of the person who has
died. The Yizkor is said in
conjunction with the seasonal feasts that mark the Jewish calendar. A change of feelings accompanies each season=s beginning. At Passover (Pesach) the feeling is
one of being released from sorrow. And
at Shavuot, seven weeks later, there are positive statements about the deceased
and a rededication to activities in memory of the deceased.[xxxii]
Near the end of the first year, there is
an unveiling of a tombstone or memorial.
The event is like a second funeral but without the intense grief. The same prayers are said as at the (first)
funeral: the eulogy (hesped), the prayer of compassion (El Makai
Rakhamim) and the Kaddish. This
event helps to bring the period of bereavement to its close. In subsequent
visits to the cemetery, the mourners place pebbles on the grave.[xxxiii]
A second funeral or reburial marked the
conclusion of the journey and final rest for the deceased. AWhere secondary treatment occurs, the fate of the corpse is
a model for the fate of the nonmaterial component of the person....Dying is a
slow process of transition from one spiritual state to another.@[xxxiv]
At least in ancient times, Jews participated in this way of thinking and
in the practice of reburial. Archeological
findings indicate that the practice was
common in the environs of Jerusalem before 70 C.E.
The Talmud notes that reburial is not an
occasion for formal mourning or wailing.
Instead, the survivors should say words of praise to God.[xxxv] Apparently the practice fell into disuse
after the middle of the fourth century but rabbinic sources continue to discuss
it as if it were still practiced.
Medieval commentators on the matter says that some people practice reburial
and it is not to be condemned. In fact,
reburial in the land of Israel is praised, although it is unclear whether that
actually happened.[xxxvi]
The final ritual in the year of mourning
is on the anniversary of the death. Yahrzeit
marks the fact of a complete cycle of the year. The day begins with the lighting of the
candle at sunset in a private experience of mourning. The day is one of sadness in recollecting the
dead. It is also a day of joy and liberation. In earlier times there was fasting to show
solidarity with the dead and the need for expiation. Fasting has been transformed into self-denial
through works of charity. There is a
rededication to actions for justice.[xxxvii]
With the unveiling of the tombstone and the
observance of Yahrzeit, the process of mourning comes to a close. Commenting on this observance, Ann Brener
writes: Abut the truth is that few people
ever feel completely finished with mourning.
Some feeling and issues may always remain.@[xxxviii]
If one employs the distinctions set out at the beginning of chapter six,
Afeelings and issues@ are not the same as a process of
mourning or a period of bereavement.
When one has suffered the loss of a
parent, spouse, child, or close friend, the world will never be the same
again. But mourning should have an end,
both out of respect for the dead and for the health of survivors. No doubt there are cases where the period of
mourning needs to go on for more than a year.
But the community ritual remains a guide for an individual person.
The term Aacceptance@ can once again be helpful for
expressing an attitude that realistically puts dying into the context of
life. Brener strikes the right note here
in saying that acceptance Ameans finding a way to feel some
harmony and continuous partnership with the deceased as well as a renewed
harmony with a universe that permits loss.@[xxxix]
Without some formed ritual for mourning, it is difficult to see how
someone can move through the complex of feelings surrounding death to find a
reintegration of the living and the dead.
Jewish rituals for death, burial and
mourning offer comfort to the survivors at every step along the way. The rituals may work better because they were
not designed to aim at comfort.
Comfort, like joy, is a side effect that cannot be eagerly sought. Both of them come unexpectedly to those who
do the right and proper thing. Deborah
Lipstadt, after recounting the ritual performed at the time of her father=s death, writes: AObservance offered a measure of
strength that I never dreamed it would.
We did not observe in order to be strengthened, but as we observed we
were strengthened.@[xl]
Does the ritual work for a thoroughly
secularized Jew who has no firm religious beliefs? Perhaps not, although the
traditions of centuries are not likely to disappear entirely from the lives of
Jews today. The rationalizing of the
Jewish religion from the seventeenth-century to today is a continuing crisis of
Jewish life. The Holocaust gave a new
dimension to that crisis, adding the impact of emotions that defy
description. Can a Jew still believe in
the Blessed One of Israel after the science, sufferings and wars of modern
times?
No one has an infallible gauge of Jewish
belief today. It should be kept in mind
that belief or a system of beliefs has never been the central category of
Jewish religion. The ancient rabbis and
the medieval commentators were already aware of the great diversity of beliefs,
opinions and viewpoints in the Jewish community. Religion, especially Jewish religion, survives
on the basis of its rituals. AThe power of religion depends...upon
the credibility of the banners it put in the hands of men as they stand before
death, or more accurately, as they walk, inevitably toward it.@[xli] A Jew once asked his rabbi what to
do about the fact that he no longer believed in God. The rabbi=s answer was Apray to God about that.@ The answer may be
naive but it captures something striking about Jewish belief.
Implied
Beliefs about Afterlife
This chapter is mainly concerned with Jewish rituals and their wisdom,
given what we know about Agrief work.@
All of these detailed practices originated not from psychological
studies but from religious beliefs. More
often than not, the beliefs were implied or assumed. Judaism has no system of doctrines that would
be similar to Christianity=s.
Jewish tradition has layers that have been built up during more than
three millennia. Within any particular
layer there are a diversity of voices.
That was true even in the biblical era.
Thus, one proceeds with caution in making any generalizations about
Jewish views on an afterlife.
Because Jewish tradition has not
elaborated a set of doctrinal beliefs, an historian must usually infer belief
from liturgical practices. Sometimes the
ancient commentators spelled out the implication. More often, the rituals continued to be
performed even when the belief was seemingly left behind. One could posit a dialectical relation
between belief and ritual; that is, a ritual expresses belief but belief might
be stimulated by ritual. Judaism does
not deny belief about an afterlife; it is simply reticent about how to
formulate any belief.
To the extent, therefore, that Jewish
views of the afterlife are inferable, one finds all three of the main views of
afterlife survival: resurrection of the body, immortality of the soul, and
reincarnation. The first view,
resurrection of the body, is the most dominant in history, even though some
contemporary Jews might think it is a Christian doctrine.
From the very time of its adoption in
Judaism, resurrection was accompanied by belief in an immortal soul. Medieval commentators often tried to hold on
to both views. Their philosophical bent
was toward the immortality of the soul but they did not wish to reject the
traditional belief in resurrection. That
dilemma is especially striking in the greatest of the philosophers, Maimonides.[xlii]
Reincarnation did not emerge until
medieval mysticism, when it became a central tenet. Reincarnation can include belief in the
survival of the soul but it is not easily compatible with resurrection, a fact
that did not stop some mystics from holding both.[xliii]
While this variety of beliefs may suggest
the lack of any consensus, the most important conclusion is that from the late
part of the biblical era until the twentieth century Jews did hold some version
of life in the Aworld-to-come.@
That attitude began to change in the eighteenth century but it was only
in the twentieth century that it would generally be said that Jews did not
believe in an afterlife.[xliv]
A Jew who subscribes to the Bible as the
word of God might argue that belief in an individual life beyond death has
little or no basis in the Bible. The more telling reason for doubt about an
afterlife is the strong influence of modern rationalism that affected Judaism.
This philosophical outlook disparaged the tradition of resurrection.[xlv] Even so, the burial and mourning practices
still reflect belief in after-death survival.
For example, as noted earlier, the Kaddish for one=s parents is said for eleven months
rather than a year because of confidence in the parent=s goodness. There is obviously implied some system of
expiation for the faults of a dead person.[xlvi]
In the early part of the Bible there is
merely a suggestion of a collective survival.
The patriarch, Jacob, asks to be buried with his people. The dead seem to have a parallel society to
the living.[xlvii] The Bible has a long history of an underground
place called Sheol. It starts out as an
amoral gathering of the dead (the rephaim) outside of God=s power.[xlviii]
Eventually it becomes an elaborately structured place where the wicked receive
their just punishments and the good await the final judgment.
The idea of individual judgment and reward
begins to emerge after the Exile. The
books of Ezekiel and Jeremiah suggest punishment for evil doers and riches for
the righteous.[xlix] The book of Job raises a problem with that
pattern and Job=s struggle still echoes today. Why do the good seem to do most of the
suffering? The book of Job has been
subjected to endless interpretations; its message remains ambiguous. The book does suggest an accounting at the
end of life when the balance will be righted.
AAnd after my skin has been
destroyed, then from my flesh I shall see God.@[l]
The belief in resurrection arose in the
last two centuries before the common era.
It is implied in a few late biblical texts, especially Isaiah and
Daniel: AThose who sleep in the dust of the
earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting
contempt.@[li]
Resurrection is a central theme in the literature known as the
Apocrypha, texts that were not accepted into the canon but were well known to
the rabbis responsible for the compilation of the Talmud.
The idea of resurrection is Amythical@ which is not to say it is
false. The human race did not have to
wait until the twentieth century to discover that a Aliteral@ resurrection is impossible to
imagine. Ancient people were well aware
that the dead person was not going to stand up in the tomb and walk out.
The language of resurrection implies two
things: first, humans participate in a renewal similar to the earth=s yearly cycle. The dead of winter
is followed by the rebirth of springtime. Jewish prayer life, including the Yizkor, is tied to the cycle of seasons. Resurrection
is a statement about the cosmos and about the human=s place at the center of living
beings.
Second, an afterlife is somehow in
continuity with the fleshly life of humans; the body is the basis of eternal
life; it is not the enemy. Jewish
attitudes and prayers endorse a fullness of bodily life with its pleasures. On the last day Aa man will have to give an account
concerning everything in which his eye delighted but the enjoyment of which he
nevertheless denied himself.@[lii]
Resurrection carried a third connection in
Jewish history. This belief probably
came through Zoroastrian religion and other religious movements of the time
that sharply divided the world into good and evil. History was seen to be in crisis and the end
was thought to be near. In the Book of
Daniel and in 2Maccabees, the idea of an endtime was linked to belief that God
would send his Aanointed one@ or messiah to restore Israel and
begin an era of peace. Resurrection
would be of the nation in the time of the messiah. A group of reformers called the Pharisees put
the pieces together: God would save both the individual and the nation; the
dead would rise on the last day to be judged by God=s anointed.
Resurrection did not immediately carry the
day. Another group, the Sadducees, were
identified as not believing in the resurrection. However, by the second century C.E, the Sadducees
seemed to have faded. The Rabbis were
the successors of the Pharisees and led the community after the destruction of
the temple in 70 C.E. They confirmed the
belief in bodily resurrection at the Council of Jamnia in 90 C. E.
The rabbis gathered together the
documents that became known as the Talmud.
These writings are diverse.
Nonetheless, Aif there was any one canonized dogma
of rabbinic Judaism, it was the belief that there would be a collective
resurrection at the end-of-days.@[liii]
The central prayer of benediction (Amidah) from the first century
affirms a belief in resurrection six times.
Neil Gillman suggests that affirming a belief six times is evidence that
the doctrine was in doubt or disputed.[liv] Even when resurrection won out, the
repetition of belief in resurrection continued.
The tension over the nature of afterlife
in rabbinic times is caught in one passage by Rabbi Jacob: AThis world is called an antechamber
to the world-to- come; one must prepare to enter the banquet hall....Better is
one hour of equanimity in the world-to-come than the whole of life in this
world.@
Yet in the very same place the author can say: ABetter is one hour of repentance and
good deeds in this world than the whole of the life in the world-to-come.@[lv]
In theoretical terms, the two statements seem to contradict one another
and yet preference is not given to either. On the practical side, the concern
is ethically centered: do what is best in this life and do not speculate about
the next.
The
rabbis believed that the body of the deceased continued to maintain sensitivity
for some time after death. AThe atonement of a man for his sins
starts from the moment he begins to feel the pains of the grave.@[lvi] Particularly during the first three
days the soul is in close proximity to the body, trying to reenter it.
The
mourning ritual still reflects an intense concern with the first three
days. With the decomposition of the
body, the soul or spirit continues on its journey, still able to communicate
with the humans and perhaps be their advocates in the heavenly realm.[lvii]
A question that naturally arose was the
length of time that the wicked were punished.
Although there are some references to eternal fire, Jewish tradition did
not go that route. A fairly strong
consensus said that Athe punishment of the wicked in
Gehenna is twelve months.@[lviii]
Medieval commentators worked out further differentiations for degrees of
wickedness. Not everyone was so bad as
to deserve the full year=s punishment; but not everyone is
perfect enough to enter paradise at death.
The anniversary remembrance of Yahrzeit is based on this belief
of a year=s punishment or the anniversary is
itself the basis of the belief.
Belief in resurrection in the land of
Israel is reflected in inscriptions on tombs,
During the third and fourth centuries of the common era, twenty-six
catacombs at Beth Shearim (AHouse of Gates@) were used for burial. Not only Jews in the holy land but other Jews
in the diaspora, expecially in Babylonia, are buried at this site. It constitutes strong evidence for a rite of
reburial.[lix] That is, Jews blended the common human
practice of reburying the bones and belief in resurrection when the messiah
comes. For Jews who could not be reburied
in Israel, the practice developed of bringing a satchel of earth to the place
of burial. To this day, dirt from the
Mount of Olives is sprinkled on caskets.
Whether or not contemporary Jews think of it this way, it is a
profession of belief in the resurrection on the last day.
Medieval Jewish thought was deeply affected
by Aristotelian philosophy; this influence created tensions with the earlier
tradition. The philosophies of Plato and
Aristotle had no problem with an immortal soul that could survive the death of
the body. But philosophers found it
difficult to make sense of resurrection.
ASoul@ is a Greek conception which is not
found in the Bible. The Bible does have
several terms that are translated as Aspirit@ (nefesh, ruah, neshamah). The medieval writers used these terms as
aspects of the soul, corresponding to Aristotle=s vegetative, animal and
intellectual soul. Saadia Gaon (882-942)
was the first of these philosophers followed by Maimonides, Gersonides and
Nahmanides. Their reflections on
different levels of the soul led to emphasis on intellectual knowledge as the
basis of salvation. The goal is to
achieve a high mind through study. The
reward of the righteous is luminescent light.[lx]
Along with a highly rational philosophy in
the middle ages, Jewish philosophy included a strong mystical element. Between 1150 and 1220 the term Kabbalah
(Ato receive@) came into use and became the way
to describe Jewish mysticism from the twelfth century onward. Originally an oral teaching, the central text
of Kabbalah is the Zohar, a thirteenth-century commentary on the
five books of Moses. Mysticism was
disdained by many Jewish historians of the nineteenth century, such as Heinrich
Graetz, but underwent a revival in the twentieth century with the work of
Gershom Scholem[lxi]
Kabbalah, while sometimes thought to be foreign to the
tradition, actually picked up many different strands of biblical, rabbinic and
post-rabbinic traditions. The Zohar
refers to the three aspects of soul mentioned above: the nefesh remains in the grave,
undergoing pain and judgment; the ruah is punished in Gehenna for up to
twelve months; the neshamah enters the Garden of Eden.[lxii] The language is developed from medieval
philosophers but is compatible with rabbinic teaching.
The most distinctive teaching of Jewish
mysticism is belief in reincarnation.
The term that was used, gilgul, means wheel or revolution. Saadia Gaon in the tenth century had
pronounced this belief Anonsense and stupidities,@ but by the twelfth century it had
taken hold.[lxiii] Reincarnation is certainly difficult to fuse
with resurrection. The mystic attempt to do so placed resurrection in a
subordinate position, a penultimate form of survival. The Zohar suggests not only a pure
spirit but absorption into the divine.[lxiv] Until that final state, both the wicked and
the righteous undergo a succession of births and deaths. The righteous continue until they are perfect
in carrying out all 613 commandments.
They can also be of help to others as they achieve perfection, similar
to the Bodhisattva figure in Buddhism.[lxv]
Reincarnation may seem to be a strange
belief for Judaism. It is a doctrine
most often associated with Buddhism and Hinduism. Whether or not there were direct historical
borrowings, there are echoes of Buddhism in rabbinic and medieval Jewish
thought. Reincarnation has probably been
the belief of most people in history. It
is not surprising that it also emerged in Jewish (and Christian) history.
The
Tibetan Book of the Dead recounts the journey of a soul for forty-nine days from death to
reincarnation. The imagery in the book
surely stems in part from what we now call Anear-death experiences.@
The human race has always been interested in what happens at death and
afterlife. The evidence is sketchy, to
say the least, but humans have stubbornly believed, despite all contrary
evidence, that something survives - a shade, a ghost, a spirit. Reincarnation puts a human face back in the
picture. The doctrine occupies a
subordinate position in Jewish history but it is important to recognize it as
part of the tradition for Jews who engage in future religious dialogues.
[i]. Maurice Lamm, The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning (New York: Jonathan David, 1969), 78.
[ii]. Geoffrey Gorer, Death, Grief and Mourning,
[iii]. Quoted in Hannah Arendt, Willing, 72.
[iv]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism (New York: Routledge, 2000), 112; Shabbat 151a-153a
[v]. Abraham Heschel ADeath as Homecoming,@ in Jewish Reflections on Death, ed. Jack Riemer; (New York: Schoken Books, 1974),
[vi]. Maurice Lamm, The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning, 238.
[vii].Elliot Dorff AAssisted Death: A Jewish Perspective,@ in Must We Suffer Our Way to Death?@ (Dallas: Southern Methodist University Press, 1996); Shabbat 32a
[viii]. Joseph Soloveitchik, AThe Halakhah of the First Day,@ in Jewish Reflection on Death,
76
[ix]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 133.
[x]. Anne Brener, Mourning and Mitzvah (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 1993), 64
[xi]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 15.
[xii]. Ibid.
[xiv]. Talamud: Berakhot, 17b-19b.
[xv]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies, 76.
[xvi]. Maurice Lamm, The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning, xi.
[xvii]. AShulhan Aruk@, in Jewish Reflections on Death, chapter 394.
[xviii]. David Kraemer, the Meaning of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 101-03.
[xix]. Joseph Soloveitchik, AThe Halakhah of the First Day, in Jewish Reflections on Death, 79.
[xx]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies, 80
[xxii]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies, 112.
[xxiii]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 138
[xxiv]. Moed Katan, 156.
[xxv]. Emanuel Feldman, ADeath as Estrangement: The Halakhah of Mourning,@ in Jewish Reflections on Death, 88.
[xxvi]. Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (New York: Grove Press, 1954), 57.
[xxvii].Anne Brener, Mourning and Mitzvah, 103.
[xxviii]. Ibid.
[xxix]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies, 91, 159; Moed Qatan 3:5, 82b.
[xxx]. Moed Qatan, 14b-16a
[xxxi]. Anne Brener Mourning and Mitzvah, 51.
[xxxii]. The other two times for Yizkor are at Yom Kippur and Shemini Altzeret
[xxxiii]. The origin of this practice is unclear. It probably echoes biblical times when a grave was marked by a pile of stones.
[xxxiv]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 35, quoting Peter Metcalf and Richard Huntington, Celebrations of Death (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 97.
[xxxv]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 93.
[xxxvi]. Ibid., 141.
[xxxvii]. Samuel Heilman, When a Jew Dies, 194.
[xxxviii]. Anne Brener Mourning and Mitzvah, 209.
[xxxix]. Ibid., 233.
[xl]. Deborah Lipstadt, AThe Lord Was His,@ in Jewish Reflections of Death, 51.
[xli]. Peter Berger, Sacred Canopy (New York: Doubleday, 1970), 51.
[xlii]. For a thorough treatment of Maimonides=s ambiguity, Neil Gillman, The Death of Death (Woodstock: Jewish Lights, 1997), 143-72.
[xliii]. Neil Gillman, Death of Death, , 173-75.
[xliv]. Elliot Dorf, AAssisted Death: A Jewish Perspective,@ 156, cites a poll in the 1990s: 67%of Christians, 45%of people with no religious identity and 30% of Jews said they believed in life after death
[xlv]. David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 148; this was especially true of Reform Judaism. The Pittsburgh platform of 1885 professes that Athe soul of man is immortal.@ See Neil Gillman, The Death of Death, 202.
[xlvi].Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife (Northvale: Jason Aronson, 1994), 305; Rabinowicz, 75.
[xlvii].Ibid., 45
[xlviii]. Ibid., 53.
[xlix]. Ezek: 11: 13-21; 36: 25-32
[l]. Job 19:26
[li]. Dan.12:2.
[lii]. P. Qiddushin IV, 12
[liii]. Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 156; see Mishnah Sanhedrin 10.1; Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin, 90a-b.
[liv]. Neil Gillman, The Death of Death, 124.
[lv]. Avot 4:16-21; Jacob Petuchowski, Our Masters Taught: Rabbinic Stories and Sayings, (New York: Crossroad, 1982), 113.
[lvi]. Sanhedrin, 47b
[lvii]. Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 137; Taanit 16a.
[lviii]. Shabbat 33b
[lix]. Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 159; David Kraemer, The Meanings of Death in Rabbinic Judaism, 51-63.
[lx]. Simcha Paul Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 241
[lxi]. Raphael citing Graetz.......; Gershom Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken Books, 1941); On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken Books, 1965).
[lxii]. Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 283
[lxiii]. Ibid., 314.
[lxiv]. Moshe Idel, Kabbala, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 67.
[lxv]. Simcha Paull Raphael, Jewish Views of the Afterlife, 318