Touching Death

As a baal tshuva, my adult son died unexpectedly from an illness. I called rabbis, who referred me to an orthodox burial society. I am deeply grateful to those who did the washing and the shomer who accompanied his body from DC to NY, then to Israel for burial. I will follow him to Israel in aliyah. He was a deeply considerate son and so am I for those who washed him and shrouded him and others who gave him a minyan and burial. This final respect is etched in my memory and I am forever grateful to HaShem who guides our thoughtful steps with each other!

thanks to all who honor our loved ones with their holy, respectful
caring for the bodies of our loved ones. It is always a comfort to learn more about this process. I want to serve my community in this way also.

I want to thank the writer for this meditation on death. The recent death of an elderly relative has greatly upset me; I needed reassurance.

I served for over 25 years in the Chevra Kaddisha of my community (all volunteers) .Initially I was amazed to learn that on completion of the tahara we ask forgiveness from the deceased for anything which may have occurred in performing the tahara which would be disrespectful or in any way compromise the honor due the deceased. Anyone can participate in this holy work, since many members of the Chevra act as Shomrim (guards) sitting with the deceased, reciting Psalms, prior to the funeral. This service does not require any contact with the body, and is of equal importance.

As a member of a chevra kaddisha, I was struck by the fact that this is one of the few mitzvoth that women perform without any men ever present. Sometimes, as an Orthodox woman, it's easy to feel like only an adjunct member of the community. Performing the tahara, I felt like the 4 of us were a minyan.

I am unaffiliated and I live away from the Jewish community and have grown to hate it. I have some heart issues, and it lays upon me hard. And I think about my demise but more about how I'll be laid to rest. So strangely enough, I have been looking at state law, my own property, and how I can be I can be buried like a Jew. I will not be buried in a Christian cemetery if my wishes are followed though I have four plots. So I thought it wonderful(?) to read this and I read Aish regularly.

I have been doing Tahara's for over 40 years. I was touched and moved reading the article. The New York Times published a story "Reviving a Ritual of Tending to the Dead" Dec 10, 2010. A Jewish friend of mine sent me a copy of the article with a comment that I share with you, as it goes to the members, misaskim of the Chevrei Kadisha, Burial Societies. There is so much in this world of which one knows nothing and finds difficult to comprehend. I need to reflect on what I learned from you and from the article.
The service provided by you and others stretches what I believed are the limits of compassion for other humans.

Tizku l'Mitzvos. May the day come when there will no longer be a need for Chevrei Kadisha

Amen v'amen!

Thank you for your detailed account, not only about the actual physical process, but especially your thoughts and feelings, during and after the tahara. I have been considering joining the chevrah kadisha for years, hesitating because I do not know if I could halndle it. But I think I am ready to at least give it a try. Your heart-felt words have been very helpful. Thank you.

You are a blessed man, thank you for your work and for sharing your deep understanding of life and death.

I am not Jewish but Christian and I must say I found this article so beautiful. How the dead are handled has always been of some concern having once witnessed, when I worked with the elderly, a very dignified 95 year old English lady one minute alive and the next being zipped into a large leather holdall and being thrown into the back of a hearse. That sight left me angry at the indignity, sad and concerned. I can only hope now That I too am old I will receive the respect that this gentleman and I would imagine all those of your faith, receive. Thank you.

This article captures, in such a beautiful way, the tentative steps that a beginner to ANY mitzvah experience undergoes, with trepidation, feeling, fear, and ultimately joy in stretching oneself in such a poostive manner. All the more so with Hevra Kadisha, the special "Holy Society" that performs this ultimate act of kindness, far beyond the ken of most.

Congratulations on reaching this stage in life and on sharing it with all of us in such a moving way

As one who can no longer do taharas (because of my own medical condition), I was deeply moved to read your account of your first tahara. Your description of the air of holiness which surrounds the body during a tahara was right on point. Each time I have done a tahara, I felt in some elusive but palpable way, the neshama of the body hovering above us. It was both humbling and awe-inspiring, not unlike the introduction of a new neshama upon the birth of a child.
The first tahara I did was for a friend of mine. Out of nowhere, I felt this complete and very private communication from her, asking me (no words, remember) to forgive her and to help her child. I was confused by the content, but crystal clear about the clarity of the communication. I just took it in and did nothing about it. Only many months, even years later, her child needed someone to talk to. The child was now an adult, and revealed to me a thing that this woman had done that had caused the daughter tremendous, overwhelming pain. I realized immediately that this is what that unspoken communication had been about. I understood the daughter's need to speak, I understood the meaning of the mother's regret and pain, and I was able to help the daughter come to terms with her mother about this huge betrayal. I have continued in this role of daughter's confidante about this matter. No, I never told the daughter about her mother's communication, nor that I participated in her mom's tahara. I am still not happy to have to deal with this issue (it wasn't pretty), but I feel it is an extension of that tahara, the last gift I can give to this mother, who really did the best she could with what she had at the time. Being able to help the child forgive the parent is another huge zechus. All of this brought home to me the thin cloudy glass barrier between this world and the next. I pray that I shall heal enough to do more taharas, to give this gift to others, and, by extension, myself. Even more, I pray for an end to all our suffering, to the coming of the end of days when all individual suffering will finally end.

I have been blessed with the opportunity to peform a tahara. The most poignant moment for me was closing the lid of the coffin. A beautiful aspect of Jewish burial is the simplicity- the person is dressed in a simple white shroud, and placed in a simple pine box. After placing the simply dressed body in the plain coffin, I realized- you really don't take anything with you. All the materials things we long for so badly- they all get left behind. I highly recommend doing a tahara if you can- after all, you pray and hope someone will do one for you one day!

In what Talmud and where is this? thanks. Oddly enough, yesterday I learned in Talmud that the soul doesn't completely leave the body until the last shovelful of dirt is placed on the grave.

Thank you for sharing your first experience with this Mitzva. I have often thought of helping with a Tahara at least one time, but I have never followed intention with action. Your article is really vivid and inspiring. I hope to have the courage and make the time to do this Chesed Shel Emes in the near future.

being relatively new to Judaism I found this article very touching! It also reminded me of when my mother died in our home how we felt looking at her, since Hospice got the wrong info and left her body in the house until the next day. I was amaxed how the body looks once the soul leaves the body.
Thank you for all of your articles, they bring me joy, comfort and often pain.
Shalom

Awesome. A beautiful piece from a beautiful man.

Yasher koach.

I truly enjoyed reading Mr. Perrin's article on participating in the Hevra Chadisha. I might try it someday now that I read his story.

Thank you, Jon, for sharing your experience for helping take care of the deceased.
This line, "...the last to see him in his current state -- a body without a soul." really hit me, never thought of that before now. It is our duty to help bury the dead with respect and dignity.

I wanted to thank you for the article about your first experience caring for a deceased man's physical body.

My grandmother died last December. Because our synagogue is so small, we have no burial society, so the women who watched with me as my dear grandmother completed her life on this earth, were prepared to help me with the last washing and preparation, though only the Rabbi's wife had any experience doing this mitzvot.

We tenderly cared for my Grandma's last physical needs. This, although I was scared as I had never done this, turned out to be very healing for all of us. I was amazed at the holiness that enveloped the room as we took care of what needed to be done. It even felt like thousands of angels were there.

And through this I learned to never fear death again, at least not the death of one destined to be with HaShem forever. My Grandmother had clearly left her pain-ridden body and was in a much better place. I felt her thanks as we washed and dressed her--I chose to dress her in a beautiful dress because she had not been able to wear pretty things for the last few months of her life. And I believe she appreciated this, as she appreciated having her hair curled and her makeup applied, just has she had liked when she had been well enough to take care of herself. It was a time for saying goodbye to her and loving her in a way that truly showed how much I cared, and how much the other women present cared.

So again, thank you for the article and for giving me the chance to express my own experience and thoughts. Brachot.

My mother recently passed away. I was with her as her neshema left her body. I waited with her at the hospital for the Chevra Kadisha to arrive--knowing she will be respectfully cared for. Thank you for sharing your experience. It is truly comforting to know she was in such "good hands".

I found this article deeply moving.
I sat at my dear Mother's bedside as she was dying, hugging her hands. When I wanted to leave and disengage my hands from hers, her hands already had the stiffness of death, and it was difficult to release my hands. it was a scary moment. I am grateful to be able to share something of this experience with this person who carried out the mitzvot.

thank you for this article. am reminded never to forget that this was someone's husband, friend.i have much more respect for those who do this work, some suffer dire consequences, you just reminded me to include them in my prayers.

"It's the greatest mitzvah [commandment] because there's a 100% guarantee that this person will never repay you for the favor you are doing them."

Not in this world at this time that's for certain.

I have great admiration for those that serve as members of their hevra kadisha however because the person you are burying will not repay you does not mean one is doing the mitzvah without a chance for reward.Is it different when one shakes a lulav or gives charity anonymously?

I also recently attended a tahara, having only done this one other time. The following is what I wrote upon my return from the funeral home. "While doing a tahara, my level of concentration was acute. I was keenly aware of the sights around me, the glaring, raw lights, the coldness of the white metal table upon which the body lay and the warmth you are feeling wearing latex gloves and a hospital cover-up, while physically maneuvering the body. I was aware of the dripping water and the dignity given to the body. I was painfully aware that this was someone's mother, someone's grandmother, someone's wife, and in the distant past, someone's daughter. While we were preparing the body with precision and care, someone else, somewhere else, was shedding tears for their personal loss. Afterward, the peace and quiet that enfolded all of us was profound. The body was peaceful, wrapped as a new infant, in a white, pure shroud. It was crystal clear that the neshama was already gone. Perhaps we provided some comfort or dignity to that special neshama. I hope so. Because some day, it will be me, and I will be grateful for the love and quiet dignity of the sisterhood of women who will preside over my body."

Thank you for the suggestion of a donation to a Hevra Kadisha. I never thought to do such so, but I will check it out. There are few causes with as much worth.

from this article it shows me that we are actually a neshama/soul and the goof/body is really our exterior and helps confirm that we really have a G-d even though we cannot see him

Many years ago when I joined the Chevra Kadisha, I had pretty much the same reactions as you did. Plus, as I have suffered from panic anxiety at different times of my life, I feared that being near a corpse would make me have a panic attack. The second time I attended a tahara, I began to feel that way, light headed and panicky and too hot. The third time, I dressed a lot more lightly, and davened to Hashem to please not let me freak out - I used those words, and believe it or not, my prayer was instantly answered and I never felt panic anxiety in connection with a tahara again.

Many people demur from joining the Chevra because of our natural fear of death. The brain realizes that doing taharas won't make us die sooner and not doing taharas won't save us from eventually dying. But the greatest distance in the world is the distance from the brain to the heart. But strangely enough, the experience of doing them has removed a little bit of my natural fear of what will happen after death.

But as Jon Perrin points out, the most moving aspect of doing a tahara with the Chevra is the complete respect and the holiness of the task. It is a very inspiring task to do, and it is imbued with kedusha, holiness. The only thing that compares to it is the feeling of awesome holiness and sanctity on Yom Kippur.

I always sense the presence of the soul of the deceased hovering in the room where we do the tahara, and we always say vidui upon the conclusion of the tahara, to beg pardon for anything wrong we may have done. But I always ask the soul of the deceased to petition God to protect the Jewish people from our enemies.

I hope people will read this article and my comment, and elect to join their local Chevra Kadisha. They could always use new volunteers.