A few weeks ago, I began a series of sessions on "Life in the Rabbinate" for my avreichim here in the Beit Midrash. In our sessions, we talk about practical issues that come up in the pulpit rabbinate; I generally present anecdotes and issues which came up in my shul years, and we talk about how to handle particular situations.
Our opening topic was "Chevra Kadisha and Funerals", and we had a lot to discuss; we've had two sessions and we're not done. Among the questions we have looked at already:
How do you help a chevra kadisha to codify their policies and customs?
Do we really put a body on the floor if someone dies in the hospital?
Would we perform a taharah before a cremation?
What's a taharah certificate?
What comes up when transporting a body across state or federal lines?
Who may see the body, and when?
What is a kosher casket?
How many eulogies, and who speaks?
Is it really okay to say, "Today is Rosh Chodesh and we don't give eulogies, but I just want to say" and then go on to present a eulogy?
How do you eulogize someone you have never met? Or should you decline?
How can you help a family get ready for a funeral?
What equipment should a rabbi always have at the ready?
Who is in charge at the cemetery – Rabbi? Funeral Director? Head of the Chevra Kadisha? Cemetery Employees?
Are we allowed to have cement liners in graves?
Who carries the casket?
And there is a lot more waiting for the third session…
Showing posts with label Life in the Rabbinate: Funerals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life in the Rabbinate: Funerals. Show all posts
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Purim Post: Mad Lib Eulogies
Warning: Poor taste and funeral humor below.
In my time in the rabbinate, I probably attended about four hundred funerals, officiating at the great majority of them. I worked for hours on eulogies, interviewing family members, thinking about the person's life, researching connections to the parshah or the Jewish calendar, and ultimately trying to find words to express the way in which the life of the niftar (deceased) carried personal meaning for relatives, the community, and me.
The Gemara says that a eulogy is supposed to induce tears. Herewith the words of the RCA Lifecycle HaMadrikh, 1995 edition, on the value of a good eulogy: “It must be a heartfelt lament of the great loss that is felt by family and friends, through conveying a true reflection of the deeds and virtues of the deceased.”
Heartfelt, a lament, a true reflection of the deeds and virtues of the deceased... this isn't always so simple. It's hard - I mean, people die all the time.
Frankly, I suspect that some rabbis are not terribly disturbed by the modern tendency to allow a day, or even two, before a funeral, since it gives them more time to work on what should be a moving presentation on the meaning of a person's life.
Fortunately, in my hiatus from the pulpit I've had the opportunity to develop various kinds of new materials for shul rabbis. In honor of Purim, visiting the outer limits of taste... and beyond... I present to you a new aid for rabbis:
The Mad Lib Eulogy.
First, before you look at the eulogy text below, fill in the following blanks. Go ahead, get a piece of paper and try it:
(1) A Name ______
(2) A positive adjective ______
(3) A Year ______
(4) A 20th century tragedy ______
(5) An Emotion ______
(6) A positive adjective ______
(7) A positive adjective ______
(8) A positive adjective ______
(9) A Nationality ______
(10) A Relation ______
(11) A Relation ______
(12) An Emotion ______
(13) A Hobby ______
(14) A good figure from the Torah ______
(15) A Relation ______
(16) One of the sacred books of Judaism ______
And here's one version you could produce:
(1) John was a (2) menschlich person his entire life. Born in (3) 1939, in the middle of (4) the Holocaust, he knew the meaning of (5) sadness. Despite challenges, he developed into a (6) kind human being, a (7) good friend and a (8) supportive son to his (9) Belgian parents.
(1) John was a good (10) son, but his greatest affection was reserved for his (11) children, in whose presence he was always (12) happy. He enjoyed (13) fishing with them, whenever he had time.
(1) John’s love for his (11) children is reminiscent of the love displayed by (14) Avraham for his (15) son. The (16) Midrash tells us that (14) Avraham displayed the greatest love for a (15) son that anyone has ever known – and (1) John built his life around that model.
Even as we mourn (1) John's passing, let us also be grateful for the years we had with him, and for his love for his (11) children. May it be a model for us and for our children, and may his memory be a blessing for us all.
-
Of course, this tool must be used with care; in particular, make sure to choose positive adjectives where indicated. Otherwise, you can end up with somewhat different results:
(1) John was a (2) green person his entire life. Born in (3) the Year of the Monkey, in the middle of the (4) Hindenburg Disaster, he knew the meaning of (5) ennui. Despite challenges, he developed into a (6) stringy human being, an (7) absorbent friend and a (8) pungent son to his (9) Mongolian parents.
(1) John was a good (10) cousin, but his greatest affection was reserved for his (11) stepmother, in whose presence he was always (12) agitated. He enjoyed (13) making tortillas with her, whenever he had time.
(1) John’s love for his (11) stepmother is reminiscent of the love displayed by (14) Lot for his (15) family dog. The (16) Zohar tells us that (14) Lot displayed the greatest love for a (15) family dog that anyone has ever known – and (1) John built his life around that model.
Even as we mourn (1) John’s passing, let us also be grateful for the years we had with him, and for his love for his (11) stepmother. May it be a model for us and for our children, and may his memory be a blessing for us all.
Try it out this Purim, and put your results in the comments.
Note: Feel free to expand this to Chuppah speeches, Bar/Bat Mitzvah speeches, etc. The only requirement is that you read them aloud in a rabbinical sing-song, punctuated appropriately with sighs and smiles along the way.
In my time in the rabbinate, I probably attended about four hundred funerals, officiating at the great majority of them. I worked for hours on eulogies, interviewing family members, thinking about the person's life, researching connections to the parshah or the Jewish calendar, and ultimately trying to find words to express the way in which the life of the niftar (deceased) carried personal meaning for relatives, the community, and me.
The Gemara says that a eulogy is supposed to induce tears. Herewith the words of the RCA Lifecycle HaMadrikh, 1995 edition, on the value of a good eulogy: “It must be a heartfelt lament of the great loss that is felt by family and friends, through conveying a true reflection of the deeds and virtues of the deceased.”
Heartfelt, a lament, a true reflection of the deeds and virtues of the deceased... this isn't always so simple. It's hard - I mean, people die all the time.
Frankly, I suspect that some rabbis are not terribly disturbed by the modern tendency to allow a day, or even two, before a funeral, since it gives them more time to work on what should be a moving presentation on the meaning of a person's life.
Fortunately, in my hiatus from the pulpit I've had the opportunity to develop various kinds of new materials for shul rabbis. In honor of Purim, visiting the outer limits of taste... and beyond... I present to you a new aid for rabbis:
The Mad Lib Eulogy.
First, before you look at the eulogy text below, fill in the following blanks. Go ahead, get a piece of paper and try it:
(1) A Name ______
(2) A positive adjective ______
(3) A Year ______
(4) A 20th century tragedy ______
(5) An Emotion ______
(6) A positive adjective ______
(7) A positive adjective ______
(8) A positive adjective ______
(9) A Nationality ______
(10) A Relation ______
(11) A Relation ______
(12) An Emotion ______
(13) A Hobby ______
(14) A good figure from the Torah ______
(15) A Relation ______
(16) One of the sacred books of Judaism ______
And here's one version you could produce:
(1) John was a (2) menschlich person his entire life. Born in (3) 1939, in the middle of (4) the Holocaust, he knew the meaning of (5) sadness. Despite challenges, he developed into a (6) kind human being, a (7) good friend and a (8) supportive son to his (9) Belgian parents.
(1) John was a good (10) son, but his greatest affection was reserved for his (11) children, in whose presence he was always (12) happy. He enjoyed (13) fishing with them, whenever he had time.
(1) John’s love for his (11) children is reminiscent of the love displayed by (14) Avraham for his (15) son. The (16) Midrash tells us that (14) Avraham displayed the greatest love for a (15) son that anyone has ever known – and (1) John built his life around that model.
Even as we mourn (1) John's passing, let us also be grateful for the years we had with him, and for his love for his (11) children. May it be a model for us and for our children, and may his memory be a blessing for us all.
-
Of course, this tool must be used with care; in particular, make sure to choose positive adjectives where indicated. Otherwise, you can end up with somewhat different results:
(1) John was a (2) green person his entire life. Born in (3) the Year of the Monkey, in the middle of the (4) Hindenburg Disaster, he knew the meaning of (5) ennui. Despite challenges, he developed into a (6) stringy human being, an (7) absorbent friend and a (8) pungent son to his (9) Mongolian parents.
(1) John was a good (10) cousin, but his greatest affection was reserved for his (11) stepmother, in whose presence he was always (12) agitated. He enjoyed (13) making tortillas with her, whenever he had time.
(1) John’s love for his (11) stepmother is reminiscent of the love displayed by (14) Lot for his (15) family dog. The (16) Zohar tells us that (14) Lot displayed the greatest love for a (15) family dog that anyone has ever known – and (1) John built his life around that model.
Even as we mourn (1) John’s passing, let us also be grateful for the years we had with him, and for his love for his (11) stepmother. May it be a model for us and for our children, and may his memory be a blessing for us all.
Try it out this Purim, and put your results in the comments.
Note: Feel free to expand this to Chuppah speeches, Bar/Bat Mitzvah speeches, etc. The only requirement is that you read them aloud in a rabbinical sing-song, punctuated appropriately with sighs and smiles along the way.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
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.
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.
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