What I've Learned About Life from Preparing Jewish Bodies for Death
By Brian Johnson
I volunteer with my congregation’s Chevra Kadisha, a group that helps prepare Jewish bodies for burial and ensures that every congregant has company from the moment they’ve passed away until the last clump of dirt covers their coffin. I currently serve on the board of directors of the Jewish Burial Association of Madison. These roles give me rich experiences in carrying out the traditions associated with burial.
When I think of Jewish burials, a stream of images, each representing important traditions, come to my mind:
• Sitting with the deceased as a shomer, or guardian, to keep the soul of the deceased company as it makes a transition from the body to whatever realm we believe in.
• A bucket of water and roll of paper towels on the front porch of a home after the burial, set out for those visiting the Mourners who will wash their hands before entering the home to make their shiva call.
• A house in which every mirror is covered with sheets, because we shouldn’t be thinking of ourselves.
• A living room filled with sturdy cardboard boxes for the bereaved to sit on, because we shouldn’t get too comfortable.
• The smell of plain pine coffins.
• Cutting the tzitzit off of a deceased person’s tallit, because now he or she is released from performing the mitzvot.
Another important tradition is being buried among other Jewish people. Years ago, immediately after my dad’s death, I left the hospital to go for a walk to clear my head. I was walking through a cemetery that’s just across the street from the hospital, carefully walking between the graves and feeling terribly alone. I was looking down at my feet, taking one step after another. I decided to look up at the inscription of the tombstone next to me.
To my infinite surprise, it was in Hebrew. So were the inscriptions to the right and to the left. I looked around some more and concluded that I must be in the Jewish section of the cemetery surrounded by Jewish graves, some of them one hundred years old. I started to put rocks on the markers, as is our tradition, and then I realized: Here was my minyan, my community.
Community is an important part of burial. That’s why it’s so important that we support Beit Olamim. This way we can preserve a Jewish cemetery in Madison where we can continue to carry out the traditions that help shape who we are as a Jewish people.
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