Honoring the Dead

Last week, along with four other members of the Reconstructionist Chevra Kadisha of Philadelphia, I helped prepare a body for burial using traditional Jewish rituals. We first prayed “that we might see the face of God in the deceased as we see the face of God in those with whom we perform this sacred task.” We then gently washed the body, adding more prayers, this time focusing on the deceased, praying for a circle of angels to escort his/her soul in its journey, asking for forgiveness for anything the person had left undone in life, reading from Song of Songs, celebrating the beauty of the person.

We then poured a large amount of water over the deceased, saying “tahor hu/he’, “s/he is pure” while the long act of continuous pouring occurred. Finally we dressed the deceased in white shrouds, reciting the verses that were used to describe the dressing of the High Priest in the Temple. On our way out, we recited a final prayer, ending with “God has given and God has taken away; Blessed be God’s name.”

I have been a part of many of these rituals through the past twenty plus years. I was one of the founders of this Chevra Kadisha in the 1980’s, organizing the group in response to our fear that the only existing Chevra Kadisha in Philadelphia would not prepare people who died of AIDS for burial. Our group started there, but has been able to respond to much more since its start.

We have prepared people for burial who had not chosen traditional Jewish burial in other ways, who have wanted to be cremated or buried together with something that had meaning for them in the casket. We have prepared people whose partners or friends have joined us in the washing and purifying process. We have prepared people who have dressed in other than the traditional shrouds. Yet we have always based our decisions about what we are open to doing on a few basic values.

We do this ritual to honor the person who has died, to accept the fact of the person’s death and not to deny death, and to treat everyone as equal in death. This ritual, called tahara, is incredibly mundane – washing, dressing, pouring water. Yet it is also the most deeply moving, inherently sacred activity that I am a part of. The connection between those of us who do this work together is strong and powerful. I am always astounded at how deeply performing this act together with a group of caring people affects me.

Looking back at the tahara I took part in last week, I once again am deeply moved. Being there so shortly after death, working together with a group of people who are present and clear about the task we complete together, and being there so close to the nexus of life and death: I felt the deepest sense of awe, a sense that has remained with me for days. As we stood around the deceased, asking forgiveness for anything we might have done that was painful or embarrassing, we all had a sense that this being we’d never met before but now knew so intimately, was smiling at us. I took that smile with me as I left this person who could deeply touch me even after death.

This spring, I’m planning to lead a training that will open the possibility of joining our Chevra Kadisha to anyone interested. I’m always interested in hearing your thoughts about Jewish death rituals (a particular interest of mine), and I’d always love to introduce you to the possibilities of learning to do tahara.