In the recent war, 118 Israeli soldiers and 52 Israeli civilians were killed. Each one of these deaths was experienced by the Jews of Israel as a major tragedy. Every Israeli newspaper and television station showed photographs of each one of the fallen, with a short or long description of the deceased's life, interests, hobbies, and recent statements to friends and relatives. Every funeral or shiva (house of mourning) was televised, showing the sobbing mother, the grief-stricken father, the decimated widow, the bereft sister or brother. The television did not show its own weeping viewers.
These deaths were not only personal tragedies, but collective calamities.
These deaths were not only personal tragedies, but also collective calamities. Israel may be the only country in the world where, when the radio reports a military or civilian casualty, it announces the time and place of the funeral, knowing that many listeners, unacquainted with the deceased, will want to attend.
Michael Levine, 21, an idealistic American Jew, made aliyah three years ago and joined the Israeli army. On leave to visit his parents this summer, he was in Philadelphia when the war broke out. Although his leave was good for a few more weeks, Michael came rushing back to Israel to contribute his share.
He was killed in action in Lebanon. Michael's funeral at the Mt. Herzl Military Cemetery was attended by many hundreds of mourners. They were Jews from across the religious and political spectrum. The only two things most of them had in common were that they had never met Michael and that they cried copiously at his burial.
My own grief at Michael's death (I, too, had never known him) reminded me of a story I had read many years ago. The son of a Christian missionary who worked in what was then called the Belgian Congo wrote lovingly about his father. When Congolese rebels took over the capitol, they imprisoned his father and other missionaries. The Mother Superior of a local Catholic convent was the only white-skinned person permitted to visit the jailed missionaries. Every morning the families of the imprisoned telephoned the Mother Superior to inquire about the welfare of their husbands and fathers.
One night, machete-wielding rebels burst into the jail cell and hacked to death all the missionaries. The next morning this particular son, unaware of the atrocity, telephoned the Mother Superior and inquired how his father was.
"He's fine," she answered. "He's in heaven."
When I first read this story, my gut reaction to the Mother Superior's answer was: A Jew would never have answered like that. But why? I wondered.
At the time I had never studied Torah and had only the vaguest notion of the Jewish concept of the afterlife. In the afternoon and evening Hebrew school I had attended, I had heard Hasidic stories about "the heavenly tribunal" assigning souls to heaven or hell. So, I surmised, Jews must believe in heaven, but I had never once heard any Jew mention it. I was a child when my Uncle Harry died at the age of forty-two. Judging by my family's inconsolable crying, I concluded that death was the terrible end of the story, without any comforting epilogue.
Years later when I read the Mother Superior's sanguine response to the missionary's massacre, I wondered why we Jews react to death with such prostrate grief rather than with some high-minded, philosophical stoicism. Don't we also believe in heaven?
The Highest Heaven
Now I've studied enough Judaism to know that Michael Levine is in heaven. According to Judaism, heaven is a wholly spiritual dimension of reality where souls receive a wholly spiritual reward: to bask in the radiance of the Divine Presence. The myriad "levels" of heaven mean ever greater proximity to the Divine Light.
Michael Levine is in the highest heaven, with the Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The Talmud relates the episode of the "tzaddikim (righteous) of Lod." A Roman officer was assassinated by Jews in the vicinity of the village of Lod. The Romans declared that if the assassins did not come forward, every Jew in the village would be executed. Two brothers who had nothing to do with the murder confessed and allowed themselves to be killed in order to spare the other Jews of Lod.
The Talmud asserts that these two "tzaddikim of Lod," who were previously unremarkable for their piety or wisdom, gained a place in the Next World with the Patriarchs. The inference is that any Jew who dies to protect other Jews similarly qualifies for that highest level of heaven.
Yet, I am sure, not a single mourner watching Michael's Israeli flag draped coffin lowered into the grave thought, "He's fine. He's in heaven." Why not?
For a Few Pennies
Ethics of the Fathers, the aphorisms of the Sages of 2,000 years ago, defines the difference between this world and the Next World: "Better is one hour of repentance and good deeds in this world than the whole life of the World to Come; and better is one hour of bliss in the World-to-Come than the whole life of this world." [4:17]
In other words, the Next World is the locus for receiving reward, and none of the pleasure of this world is remotely comparable to the bliss of the Next World. On the other hand, this world is the locus for choosing to do good, which is somehow better than receiving even the most blissful reward in the Next World.
A Jew's primary focus is on this world, because only here can the soul choose good.
The Gaon of Vilna was the greatest Torah luminary of the last few centuries. On his deathbed at the end of a long and saintly life, the Gaon of Vilna wept. When his family asked him why, he replied, "Here in this world, for a few pennies I can purchase tzitzis [ritual fringes Jewish men wear on a four-cornered garment]." All the bliss of heaven was not enough to console the sage for the loss of the opportunity to do one mitzvah.
The Jew's primary focus is on this world because only here can a soul choose good. Only in this world can a person opt to fulfill the Divine will. Only in this world can a person give God the "gift" of obeying His word. The Next World is for receiving. This world is for giving. When we give, we become like God, the Ultimate Giver. Little wonder that Judaism places supreme value on this world.
Although the performance of every mitzvah automatically generates a reward in the Next World, the wise know that the goal of doing the mitzvah is not the reward. Rather, the value of the mitzvah is inherent in the act of choosing to do good, irrespective of the reward. The esteemed Rabbi Noah Weinberg, the dean of Aish HaTorah, illustrates this sublime concept with a metaphor:
Let's say you are performing the mitzvah of honoring parents by serving your mother a glass of water. A man witnessing your deed tells you, "What a wonderful thing you just did! You honored your mother! Here's $100,000 reward."
You would likely tell the man that you didn't do it for the reward, but, since he's offering, you graciously accept the $100,000. The next time you serve your mother a glass of water, the scene repeats. Again, you didn't do it for the money, but nevertheless you accept the reward. This scene repeats itself ten times.
The 11th time you're serving your mother a class of water, out of the corner of your eye you see the man holding the cash. What are you thinking about? Certainly not the mitzvah of honoring your mother! You're thinking about the $100,000!
This is equivalent to performing mitzvot and good deeds in order to receive a heavenly reward.
But Rabbi Weinberg describes another scenario: Let's say that you and your 2-year-old child are standing beside a pool, and the toddler accidentally falls in. Of course, you jump into the pool, even with all your clothes on, and save your child. A man witnessing your deed tells you, "What a wonderful thing you just did! Here's $1,000,000 reward."
You would likely tell the man that you didn't do it for the reward, but, since he's offering, you graciously accept the $1,000,000. A short time later, the scene repeats. Again you jump in and save your toddler. Again the man offers you $1,000,000, and although you didn't do it for the money, nevertheless you accept the reward. This scene repeats itself ten times.
The 11th time your child falls into the pool, out of the corner of your eye you see the man holding the cash. What are you thinking about? SAVING YOUR CHILD!
Each mitzvah is worth more than its reward.
Some acts have such intrinsic value, obvious even to our limited human perception, that no amount of reward can distract us from the value of the act itself.
The wise know that every mitzvah is worth more than its reward. "Fulfilling the will of the Almighty," asserts Rabbi Weinberg, "is an end in itself. We Jews are not looking to get into heaven, but to turn this earth into heaven. Every time we die, we fail."
That's why we cried at the death of Michael Levine. Yes, he merited the highest level of heaven. Yes, he is now basking in the bliss of the Divine Presence. Yes, even if he had lived another 60 years, he could not have earned a greater reward than what he got for dying in order to protect the lives of other Jews. But had he lived, he could have (and would have) served his mother a glass of water. He could have made Kiddush on Shabbat. He could have given charity to the needy. And these acts, possible only in this physical world, are meaningful and precious beyond reward.
"Better is one hour of repentance and good deeds in this world than the whole life of the World to Come." Jews do believe in heaven. But we are charged with making this world into heaven, and that heaven of our own minute-by-minute choices, of our own hourly struggle, of our own daily striving, is infinitely precious. And the loss of those days and hours and minutes in anyone's life is infinitely tragic.
No wonder we weep.
(32) Malki hockman, September 30, 2015 8:25 PM
Thank you S.Y Rigler
I know this article is very old, I just stumbled across it today. But as usual I love your articles. This was very inspiring. Thank you.
(31) Sameh, September 1, 2006 3:00 PM
Trajedy.........
I didn't read the article yet.....But I was looking at the photo above.....I feel really sad !!!
It simply reflects the " human " emotions inside the " soldiers ".....
I'm NOT Jewish.....I'm Egyptian....And being in that region , I see human beings in both Arabs and Israelis...
I don't know when should the day come when these deaths end......
The last war was a tragedy for both Israelis and Lebanese......It wasn't necessary and it didn't bring anything good to any of the parties........
That's really sad......And my condolences for families and loved ones on both sides.......
Beverly Margolis-Kurtin, September 4, 2014 2:13 AM
Thank you
War is the most idiotic thing we humans create, but sharing our mutual respect for each other is the beginning of the end. I do respect you and wish you peace.
(30) MoisheNeuer, September 1, 2006 9:53 AM
Wise words, well written.
Blessings to Mrs. Rigler for her fine, lucid writing.
Mary Simon, March 3, 2014 7:47 PM
Some good writing but God did give us free will to choose our actions.
(29) Anonymous, August 31, 2006 9:33 PM
WELL DONE SARAH..
wHAT AN EXCELLENT ABSTRACT CONCET... YOUR ABILITY TO ABSTRACT AS DO THE FAMOUS RABBIS ARE AND IS JUST WONDERFUL...
(28) daniel, August 31, 2006 4:35 PM
thank you for the inspiration and hope.
i always questioned why we fear death if heaven is such a perfect place, but now i understand. thank you for sharing your wisdom. thank you for inspiring by opening our eyes!
(27) Mamie, August 31, 2006 2:13 PM
Awesome reading
I get so much out of reading these articles.
(26) jewishman, August 30, 2006 8:19 PM
remember ro'i klein
was the soldier who jumped on the grenade while saying "shema yisrael" and died to save his comrades. zt'l
(25) mensch, August 30, 2006 7:31 PM
for ivri tasker (in comments)
sir, you ARE a very religious Jew. the fact that you can go a funeral of a person you don't know and weep for him and his family. this is a tzadik on a beautiful and inspiring level. may H' bless you.
(24) Sharon, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
the meaning of tragedy
Dear Sara Yoheved,
First let me say that I enjoy your many essays immensely and admire your very skilled expression as well as your depth of thought.
With regard to "Heaven Can Wait", I have some reservations of your analysis.
Hashem, in His infinite wisdom, singularly decides who will live and who will die at every given moment. Hashem determines an individual's death when that person has completed the mission for which he was created. Every Jew's mission includes the keeping the mitzvot, but in addition to the mitzvot which apply to all Jews, there is a purpose for each individual's stay in this world. Of course we call live our entire life without consciously understanding our mission, we might complete it without awareness, or we might tragically miss it entirely.
Let me give you an example which demonstrates this point.
Rav Shlomo Carlebach Zt''l approached the Lubavicher Rebbe Zt"l shortly before his demise, because he was concerned about the deterioration of his voice which he used to draw so many Jewish Neshamot closer to Yahadut. The Rebbe, who himself sent Rav Shlomo on this particular shlichut told him at this point, "The shlichut is over." The Rebbe himself passed away shortly before Shlomo. I remember the sequence because I have two sons named for the two tzaddikim.
In addition, the concept of gilful neshamot or reincarnation is pretty widely accepted in yahadut. This sheds more light on the puzzle of what happens when a soul doesn't meet all of its goals. The real tragedy occurs when a soul falls far from its potential, but ironically we cry the most when contemplating the death of a great person who seems to have traveled far in his spiritual journey. And the reason for this is simply because we know how much is being lost with the holy neshama of the great person. The deaths of the beautiful heros like Roi Klein (who jumped on a grenade to save his friends while reciting the shma) and Michael cause us great pain because of a sense of loss. We (those who knew him and also those of us who didn't) can no longer benefit from their holiness. It is a gift from Hashem that was on loan and is now being taken back. We, of course, also feel for his family and friends for whom the loss is excruciatingly painful.
Also ironically, we would not have known of the greatness of these individuals to be inspired by them, had they not died in the way they did. In a way, at the great expense of their loved ones, we have been enriched with their stories. In the spirit of Rosh Hashana, only Hashem determines who will live and who will die. Mitzvot are the fulfillment of G-d's will. When God takes back a neshama that too is God's will. At this point it makes no sense to speak of the mitzvot that person may have performed had he lived, because God ended his life according to His will.
Hashem in His omniscience gives this world what it needs and we pray that the zchut of these great neshamot will draw the geula closer, bimheira b'yameinu.
Keep up the good work!
(23) Emma, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
This article is beautiful and moved me to tears. Thank you for explaining the concept of life after death within Judaism. Your words moved me to tears... My understanding of why giving to others with purity and love has been strengthened. It is so incredibly important and feels so very wonderful!
(22) MOHAMED, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
excellent
If all the human kind act like this we would have changed our life into heaven,your article is very meaningfull,I have learn o lot from your article, G-D bless you
(21) JulietShavitz, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
Enlightening
(20) LisaAigen, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
Afterlife and this life
Thank you for clarifying the relationship between greif and what should be our purpose in life as serving HaShem and doing good to others. It was clearly and bauetifully put.
(19) Mr.Barry, August 29, 2006 12:00 AM
myopic perspective
The Mother Superior does not speak for all non-jews. Each person regardless of faith has their own concept of heaven. If we can bring heaven into our lives through mitzvot,try respecting the lives and views of non-jews a little more. The gentile families buried beneath the rubble in Beirut will be sorely missed by the human community, jew and non-jew alike. Healing the world requires working for peace. Respecting , understanding and cooperating with our gentile neighbors is a major mitzvah!! More open mindedness and less divisive allegory would go far. L'chaim !
(18) Kemaste, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
For anonymous
You wrote,"if we believe that everything G-d does is for the good, then surely we wouldn't cry or feel pain?"
Who are we to understand or even comprehend the will of the Almighty? I am humbled and left mute in an attempt to explain. I can tell you this. We cherish life. When we see a soldier we see our own children - young, full of life and potential. When we lose a soldier it's like losing one of our own and we grieve for the loss of the child's potential: life, marriage, children, all the possibilities of the living. Isn't that enough to weep over?
(17) burtB-USA,Calif, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
not all good things are pleasant
to "Still... i don't get it"
Perhaps it is good that we cry for the loss of potential this human death represents. Perhaps crying is the way that limited humans express the pain of lost potential, but this expression makes a human better spiritually.
(16) IvriTasker, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
The Funeral of 19 Year I Did Not Know
As I drove home from work, I passed the entrance of Kibbutz HaMa'apil at exactly 6.30 pm. This was the hour set for the funeral of 19 years old Nachal soldier killed in action in Lebanon. My own 19 year old, Yoni, had been drafted a week previously into the Nachal brigade. On instinct and completely unplanned, I turned left, entered the kibbutz, asked directions to the cemetery and parked the car. At the funeral, except for 3 familiar faces I was surrounded by hundreds of unknown mourners. Despite not having known the young soldier, I cried. The tragedy of a young life curtailed hit me hard. I am not religious. I only wish that I were. I envy those whose beliefs provide them with the strength that Heaven and the afterlife exist.
Ivri Tasker
Kibbutz Givat Chaim Meuchad
(15) GioraNevo, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
HEAVEN CAN WAIT
For those Jews who do not believe in afterlife , death is an inconsolable grief . Beside my beliefs, your essay is very interessting and educating, even if you didn't explain enterily your possibility . Giora Nevo ISRAEL
(14) Anonymous, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
Still... i don't get it
if we believe that everything G-d does is for the good, then surely we wouldn't cry or feel pain?
(13) Andy, August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
questionable,beautuful and confusing
I admire Micchael Levin of blessed memory. It seem sto me that the sacrifice he made in life merits a sublime afterlife.To state as a fact that "Michael Levine is in the highest heaven, with the Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." is hard for me to just accept as it seems based solely on faith.
It seems to me that great grief is also experienced at the death of those who do not seem to be making the choices that contribute to turning this world into heaven. Perhaps it is the unfulfilled potential we all have to be a part in making this world into heaven that is mourned even when that potential was often not utilized properly.
(12) BeverlyKurtin,Ph.D., August 28, 2006 12:00 AM
George...
George, the homicide bombers have no religious grounds for doing their heinous acts. They do not kill for the sanctification of Allah, they kill because they can.
They get their incentive for the lowest of reasons: to be with their very own 72 virgins. Arab men treat their women worst than cattle; they have no right to the life to come as do those who follow Torah or the Noahide laws (see the article at http://www.aish.com/wallcam/7_Noachide_Laws.asp). Modern followers of radical Islam have no right to a place in the world to come. Why? They murder, are sexually immoral, curse G-d, and do no set up courts and bring offenders to justice.
How do they curse G-d? In the most horrendous possible way by screaming Praise to Allah while committing violent murder. How can one praise G-d while breaking the first of the Noahide laws?
Radical Islam is a cult, not a religion. Read the definition of cult vs. religion and you will see why I say what I say.
For Sara, thank you for clearing up the many questions I have had for most of my life! In one brilliant article, you said what I've not been able to find in thousands of pages of books. Words can't adequately express how I feel about what you've written.
I have to share this with you. My mom's funeral was perhaps the most hysterical event I've ever attended. Why? Because mom, may she rest in peace, had one of the most outrageous senses of humor any human being has ever had. Rather than the usual gathering of the morose we spontaneously began to recall some of her wildest escapades. She was a practical joker, constantly pulling them off with aplomb. At the height of the laughter, one of my uncles approached her casket and blew smoke into her face. Instantly, everyone stopped except my father, brother and me. We hugged and thanked him for pulling off mom's final practical joke. She smoked heavily throughout her life. She told my uncle that "when I'm dead, blow smoke into my face. If I don't reach up to grab a puff, let them bury me."
Yes, we mourn for our loved ones in many ways. I hope my funeral will emulate mom's
(11) C.Siegel, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
For These Too, I Weep...
Phillip Mosko, age 21, of Ma'aleh Adumim, killed near Dibbel in Lebanon. Phillip immigrated to Israel from Russia as a child. In high school. he was an active volunteer for Magen David Adom, becoming a certified paramedic. Because of a weight problem, Phillip would have been exempt from military service; determined to be accepted to a combat unit, he lost almost 90lbs and got into the paratroopers.
Phillip was a "giver" all his life. He lived and died to protect the Jewish people. Phillip's Hebrew name is Feivel David ben Shlomo Ze'ev ve-Leah Lyuba.May his memory be for a blessing.
(10) thalia, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
Dear Sarah,
In reaction to Sarah's article Heaven can Wait
This is not contradictory to say that we cry because this life is sacred, mirroring the wonder of creation, which is central to Judaism,
thalia gur klein
(9) Anonymous, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
there are other reasons we weep
I understand your premise but there is another reason we weep for the dead: we grieve for our own loss. When we lose a family member or a friend our normal reaction is, I'll never see Ploni again; Ploni will never be able to tell his/her stories to my children. We'll never again be able to laugh together or share our thoughts." These are very normal and acceptable responses to death. The grief is of a different sort when we read of an Israeli soldier killed in action or of a civilian killed by terrorists. We empathize with the victim's family--"it could have been my child or spouse or sibling"--and we project our own feelings at the death. Only later we might turn our thoughts to the person's lost chances to live a life of mitzvoth, to the waste of a beautiful life, to what might have been. But with it all, our grief is--if not selfish, at least grounded in our own personal sense of loss.
(8) Anonymous, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
Thank you Sarah Yocheved. I always had that question but was embarreced to ask it because I was afraid to be considerd insensetive. By the way, The Holy Woman book is an excellent book.
(7) Anonymous, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
Hello,Before I say this I want to make it clear I love Israel and its people.About the article, is not a young arab who blows himself up in a certain way following the same logic and ideals.I know to alot of people they are terrorists and to me they are.But they are believing the words told to them in there books and mosques as we do.For they think also that they are protecting there people from injustice when they give up there lives.Respectfully---George
(6) Anonymous, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
What we really mourn for.
I was moved to tears when reading this article.The reason why we cry upon a tragic death a fallen victim, namely the heroic soldiers that died on the battltfield protecting us. We are lamenting their nobility and all that they have sacrifised for us and the country that we will no longer see.When a person dies,the goodness he/she has contributed to the world can't be shared or benefited from anymore.We miss out on their benevolency.Thats why we truely cry for them.
(5) donnaherman, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
excellent articles
i enjoy the articles. the real news from israel. not thru some world media news.
(4) judithlipman, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
we also cried for the loss
We weep because we are sorry for ourselves.
We loved this boy and we will not see him walking between us, (with all the meanings of it), and the woid left after he is gone will never leave us.
We the living will not have the chance to give this boy anything anymore.
This is the real loss, the real void, the real nothing that is left after such a death. I don't think parents and family and friends think of the loss of the mitzvehes this boy will not do in his life, but of the vaccant space left after him.
And after all the Others who died in this war.
(3) ChrisB, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
THANK YOU
I am not Jewish, but I am an admirer of the wealth of wisdom acquired and PRESERVED by the Jews. Thank you for this wonderful expression of why death is a tragedy, the hope for bliss in the next world notwithstanding.
(2) Anonymous, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
I like the approach of Reb Aryeh Levin to death better. It brings more consolation, which we need most now. They did mourn the dead of their little boy. But the neighbours coming to the shiva thought the Rebbetzin sort of out of her mind becouse she did not show signs of emotion. On his own grave Reb Aryeh Levin let engrave the words: "I ask of everyone who comes to pray at my grave, to say wholeheartedly: I believe with perfect faith that there will be a revival of the dead at the time when it shall please the Creator, blessed be His name and exalted His remembrance for ever and ever."
And this is the way he consoled a man, who had lost his family in the holocaust. He caressed his hand while he said: "There is a Tsaddik," he said, "a righteous, devout person; and there is a hassid, a man of kindly piety. But a kadosh a hallowed person, is only one who was put to death for his religion and his faith. Then I have to stand in your presence, becouse you offered up not one sacrifice to sanctify God's name, not one kadosh but two." "You know," he added: "when a child is born and comes into the world, all are rapturous with joy – and the child itself cries and wails. When someone dies and his life-spirit leaves the world, all mourn and grieve – but that living spirit itself exults and rejoices. It has gone from a world of darkness to a world of light…"
Anyway I think the reason most Jews mourn the death of a another Jew so deeply is because they have the ability to indentify with the pain of others, which is a very nice virtue, baruch HaSjem. Mourning is good and friends and strangers, indentifying with your pain gives a lot of solace. But we should not become depressive. Surely not all Jews are concious about the idea of the soul living forth after the death of the body. Most of us are to much attached to the materialistic live her on earth. Not that I blame anyone, because it is natural to grieve over a lost one. And I will not say that I would feel any better in same circumstances. But more conciousness about the reality of the soul would bring a lot more consolation to everybody.
(1) MenasheKaltmann, August 27, 2006 12:00 AM
Let's hope we see better things....
Again thank you aish.com and Mrs Rigler for this well written article.
This material world where we can do good things (Mitzvos) is so important.
Let's pray that G-d sends the Moshiach very soon and we Kllal Yisrael don't have more 'kedoshim'