Funerals in the Synagogue: Difficult but Appropriate

Here we go again, back to the death topic. Sorry, but it comes up a lot, just like death itself.

I dislike the idea of hosting a funeral in shul, whether in the sanctuary where we daven or in the social hall. (There are halachic grounds to oppose hosting certain funerals in a shul, but that's not the topic of this post.) And yet, we do it, and we will continue to do it.

Basically, this is the problem: It converts the space of personal and communal conversation with Gd into a space of personal and communal despair. I don’t want to see that funeral, I don't want to remember crying my way through that eulogy, when I walk into shul next Shabbos.

We don’t engage in comedy in a davening area, because we don’t want to convert the shul into a space for joking around and קלות ראש.

We don’t hold board meetings in a davening area, because we don’t want convert the shul into a space for conversing about daily matters.

And so we really should not hold funerals in a davening area, because afterward, when we will enter the shul, we will remember the grief of that loss.

But, on the other hand, there are real reasons to hold a funeral in shul, and Jews have done it for millenia.

First, attending a funeral is one of our most sacred mitzvot. It’s a time to honor righteousness, a time to cry for what we have lost, a time to express our belief in surviving death. It expresses our beautiful if, at times, agonizing faith in Gd and eternity.

Second, funerals express our commitment to kindness and respect. The Sefer Chasidim writes that we rise before a passing funeral bier not only to honor the deceased, but to honor those who are engaged in this mitzvah of taking care of the deceased.

And third, there are reasons to hold specific funerals in a shul. Today, for example, we will bury an 89 year old man who came to minyan every day, morning and evening, until the very last day of his life; how could we not bring him back to the place where he was last conscious, and honor him within the walls of the minyan he upheld? How could we offer דברי הספד (eulogy) in any other building?

So, as in many areas of life, we end up doing what we are reluctant to do. We hold the occasional funeral here in the social hall of the shul, and we honor our righteous role models.

And, yes, sometimes I stand in conversation at kiddush and my mind flashes back to what I least wish to remember on a Shabbos morning. But I suppose if that’s the price of honoring a נפטר (deceased person) properly, then it’s a price we ought to pay.

Funeral Tchotchkes

It took me a while to figure out how to write “tchotchkes” in English. I went through a few versions – czoczkes, tshotshkes, chachkas, tchatchkes… - before settling on the spelling chosen by Wikipedia and Merriam-Webster.

Anyway, to cite the first two paragraphs of the Wikipedia article:
Tchotchke (originally from a Slavic word for "toys" (Polish: cacka, Russian: цацки)), adapted to Yiddish טשאַטשקע tshatshke, trinket, are small toys, knickknacks, baubles, trinkets or kitsch. The term has a connotation of worthlessness or disposability, as well as tackiness, and was long used in the Jewish-American community and in the regional speech of New York City.

The word may also refer to swag, in the sense of the logo pens, keyfobs and other promotional freebies dispensed at trade shows, conventions and similar large events. Also, stores that sell cheap souvenirs in tourist areas like Times Square and Venice Beach are sometimes called tchotchke shops.

I use the term here in its kitsch sense, to describe a funeral product brought to my attention by a local company a few years ago. [I first mentioned this product here, and have now found time to tell the story.]

The company is Israeli, kibbutz-owned; they work with concrete here in the US, sending over Israeli employees for a few years at a time. Corporate management came to me some time back to present their new idea: Ornamental casket liners made from Israeli earth.

They had manufactured, if I remember correctly, a pressed-earth piece displaying a מגן דוד (“star of David”), to place beneath the person’s head. There were a few other pressed-earth pieces, as well, with obvious Israel connotations – the horizon of Yerushalayim, the kotel hamaaravi, that sort of thing. And they wanted my הסכמה, my approbation, to show that this was a halachically acceptable burial accessory.

This was an interesting problem:

On one hand: Without a doubt, such an item would be halachically acceptable. Jewish tradition expects a body to be buried in contact with the earth, to the extent possible. Further, we customarily use Israeli earth as part of the Chevra Kadisha’s preparation of the body. This company had simply found a way to monetize the Israeli earth by converting it into a product people would buy. Why not offer it to people?

On the other hand: Accessorizing the funeral would go against the grain of Jewish burial tradition dating back to Rabban Gamliel’s insistence on being buried in plain white canvas. We use the simplest possible casket and תכריכין (shrouds) because we don’t want to embarrass anyone who cannot afford something nicer – so I wouldn’t want to endorse an innovation which would result in higher costs, and embarrass people, at such a sensitive time, into paying for something they don’t need.

I shudder to imagine the potential next step - commemorative items like the aforementioned keyfobs, pens, et al. Maybe, eventually, a trowel embossed with the profile of the deceased and displaying the logo, "My parents went to X's funeral and all I got was this lousy shovel." There are no limits to poor taste.

In the end, I consulted with a halachic authority whose words I greatly respect, and he confirmed the latter view. I declined to give them a letter of approval.

I must confess that my refusal nags at me; I don’t feel comfortable mixing fuzzy values issues into a clearcut מותר/אסור decision process. But that’s what פסק (issuing a halachic ruling) is about – seeing not only the nuts-and-bolts, but the greater machine as well.

A Kosher Caskets Carnival?

I am glad to announce that the latest edition of the Kosher Cooking Carnival is now available here. Which, with the strange way my mind works, reminded me of one of those things you probably never thought about your rabbi doing: Casket Certification.

About two years ago I was approached by a local casket company, to certify their caskets as kosher. Although the request was logical enough - they wanted to be acceptable for the Orthodox/traditional Jewish market - it still struck me as funny.

My Vaad (LVKC) supervises a bottling company, a couple of supermarket bakeries, a Carvel and a Rita’s, Lang's Chocolates and many events at our local JCC, and over the years I’ve been here we’ve done a nursing home, a caterer, a pizza place and a few other businesses… but caskets? Nope, no experience there.

So I contacted knowledgeable authorities and found out what was involved, and trekked off to the coffin-builders. They were very pleasant, very open and willing to show me everything I asked, and then some. They offered to demonstrate the actual construction of caskets. In a warehouse so large it makes a Home Depot look like a studio apartment, I learned about glues and putties and what goes into them, about dowels, and about the different sizes and shapes and models of caskets (1H01, 1H02, 1H03, 1H04, 1H05, 1H0X) and what’s involved in attaching handles.

I even got a check for it afterwards, which was unexpected and unrequested but nice. I just thought I was helping them out.

Here's an interesting thing: I learned that they give “casket warranties,” which left me wondering about a few things, including whether an unsatisfied customer is required to return the casket … and how long the warranty is good.

On the whole, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to be asked to certify their products; after all, we have halachic requirements for caskets, so why shouldn’t there be certification? And it gave me a fundraising idea:

Perhaps our Vaad haKashrus should make some money by approaching other casket manufacturers (how many are there?) and offering to certify their products. It’s got to be an easier sell than food kashrut; 11% of the local Jewish population says they observe kashrut in their homes, but I’d bet a much higher percentage requests a kosher casket. For many, many American Jews, kosher burial is right up there with a Pesach Seder and Kol Nidrei.

And maybe we could branch out, too… I’m thinking of tachrichin (shrouds) kosher certification, matzeivah (headstone) kosher certification, little-stones-to-put-atop-the-matzeivah kosher certification, water-bottles-for-washing-outside-the-cemetery kosher certification… a whole new industry, indeed.

Think that’s a reach? Well, I’m out of time for blogging today, but remind me to tell you some time about the local branch of an Israeli company who approached me about certifying ornamental casket-inserts made of Israeli earth.

No, I’m not kidding.

Daf: Nazir 24-28

These pages, like the previous installment, are fairly technical. However, one who isn’t learning through Nazir regularly, but is familiar with Gemara, might find the discussions of Halachah l’Moshe miSinai (25) and Bereirah (26a) interesting. And the wine/degradation topic on 28a is interesting in general…

24a
The word למלכות on the top of the page is problematic; how did Ruth/Moav get into the monarchy four generations before Naamah/Amon? Ruth enters monarchy with Dovid haMelech, Naamah does so with Rechavam, Dovid’s grandson!
Rivan (pseudo-Rashi), Tosafos and Rosh don’t have the word למלכות at all, which does solve the problem – Ruth married in four generations before Naamah did.
One might also suggest it was the “line of מלכות,” that of Yehudah?

25
We understand, as Tosafos הלכה writes on 25a, that the term “הלכה” here means הלכה למשה מסיני, a tradition which goes back to Moshe even though it lacks a pasuk. This is interesting because of the interplay of citing a הלכה למשה מסיני and citing a pasuk, on 25b.

26a
The gemara about identifying money as being “for korbanos” vs. specifiying which coins will be for which korbanos would seem to be a perfect candidate for the discussion of ברירה – why couldn’t I suggest that if we believe in ברירה, then money which will later be identified for specific korbanos is retroactively identified as having been designated for those specific korbanos?

The term נפלה at the bottom of the page is open to interpretation. Pseudo-Rashi says it means the money was lost or separated from the rest, but Rosh says it was earmarked!

26b
Re: בכולן see the end of Tosafos והשאר

28a
The Rosh on the mishnah includes inability to attend funerals as an element of degradation, perhaps associated with the gemara (Nedarim 83b) that people want to attend the funerals of others, so that others will attend theirs?

The debate about why not drinking wine is ניוול, degradation, is fascinating. Pseudo-Rashi, citing a pasuk, says it’s because wine beautifies a person, but Tosafos תגלחת says it’s because she suffers in being deprived from wine.

28b
In the concern for what will happen to offerings dedicated by a Nazir who then has the nezirut repealed, our gemara says we are concerned for הפסד קדשים, the loss of offerings, but pseudo-Rashi’s edition is בזיון קדשים, degradation of the offerings. That latter version is hard to understand, if these aren’t offerings at all! Perhaps, though, the concern is that in the future one might be less-than-careful with the offerings, knowing that their status could be voided via repealing of the nezirut.

It sounds like the law against repealing one’s wife’s nezirut at a late stage is a rabbinic decree – so what happens if the husband repealed it first, and asked later? Presumably it’s repealed, rather than bring offerings inappropriately?

More on 28b in the next installment...