By Ruth Nemzoff and David Raphael, Executive Director of The Jewish Grandparents Network
Q: I have always been moved by the High Holidays. I reflect on my life and try to make the most of it in the limited time I have by asking for forgiveness, healing grudges, and doing good deeds. However, lately, I find the High Holidays make me think of how I will be remembered. Most of my adult children and grandchildren do not have the same relationship with Judaism that I do. I worry that I won’t be given a proper Jewish funeral ceremony should I die. But sometimes, I wonder if it’s not important what I want, but rather what would give them the most comfort. Is this the kind of conversation I can have with my family, or will they think I’m trying to control their grief?
A: Open communication is always important and is particularly important in families with widely differing spiritual and religious practices. Making your wishes known in terms of how you would like to be honored is certainly a wise idea. Who but the deceased can say how best they wish to be memorialized? How can others know your wishes if they have not been told? All the arrangements are made easier if the deceased has discussed their wishes during their lifetime. The more specific they are, the better. The more family members they tell, the fewer misunderstandings and hurt feelings will ensue. However, talking about death with a spouse, a companion, or children can be difficult and uncomfortable. Some superstitious people feel it will bring about a death sentence and others just want to avoid the subject altogether and pretend we and they can live forever. Still others fear they will open the door to conflict since their children may eschew religion completely or have spouses from other faiths and cultural traditions. Thus, we put off the discussion but not the conflict which will cause hurt feelings when the death occurs.
The passing of a parent or another family member can either bring closure to complicated family dynamics or, conversely, it can leave open wounds that never heal and may become intergenerational. Similarly, how family members engage ritually or otherwise in the passing of a parent or loved one can bring the family together or harden and affirm painful feelings . In most societies, ceremonies around death are meant BOTH to honor the deceased and to comfort the mourners. One way to facilitate the positive outcome is to be clear how you wish to be honored.
That at least reduces arguments about one side of the equation.
When religious practices differ, my conservative congregation encourages those who have lost a loved one to go home and observe the customs that would have made the deceased and those closest to them comfortable even if that involves customs from another tradition or from Jewish traditions different from their own. They are then encouraged to come back to our community and hold Shiva, if that would be meaningful to them personally.
It all seems so simple. We do justice to the deceased and receive comfort. Yet examples abound where arguing details can derail the moment and give anything but comfort. The sage Rambam teaches that we are only to say kaddish for Jewish family members. This means that, for the converted child whose parent is not Jewish, they are instructed not to sit shivah. The reason, he writes, is this may create an undue burden on the community, asking them to mourn when it isn’t actually required (Mishneh Torah, Mourning 2). However, restricting a child’s ability to mourn can be incredibly hurtful for them. In the face of this dilemma, many rabbis have decided to officiate Jewish funerals for non-Jewish parents. Why do they do this? Because, according to the Rabbinical Assembly, it is a chesed shel emet, a mitzvah done without an ulterior motive, which is the highest form of generosity in the Jewish faith. This solution will not be accepted by everyone. The conflicts around burial customs exist not just with those from other religions but also for those amongst the Jewish people.
You might have family members who insist on following the tradition that the dead are buried immediately. This might be done before you or most of the deceased’s family can reach the gravesite. Those who advocate for an immediate burial are trying to do what they think is right, following Jewish tradition closely. However, the excluded family members may feel hurt.
Many have rushed to funerals online because they could not make it in person. Others join a daily minyan in person or on-line (My Jewish Learning holds an online prayer service daily.) Some people have reacted to this trend adversely, arguing that it cheapens the experience of funerary rights. However, for many, it has allowed them to participate in some capacity in events they otherwise would not have been able to attend. How people find personal comfort will vary. Acceptance rather than criticizing lessens animosity.
Often, though, it’s not someone outside the family but within, who raises important questions. In an essay for Hey Alma, Ash Morelock, a recent convert to Judaism, wonders if it is appropriate to light a yahrtzeit candle in memory of their Baptist great-grandmother. While the Jewish ritual would bring Morelock comfort, they suspect their great-grandmother might not approve. “What does it mean to say blessings for her in a language she never heard?” writes Morelock. “To light a candle whose name she couldn’t pronounce, to mark her passing with a tradition she’ll never get to know is mine now? How do you honor someone who couldn’t honor all of you?”
One of the widest gaps may be not between family members of different faiths, but between the faithful and the faithless. The faithful have, in common, a deep respect for the value of both community and ritual — especially regarding life cycle events. The rituals and communities may be very different, but the faithful recognize the need for both, and even if the rituals are strange and the community is full of strangers, mourners from another tradition can still resonate with the expressions of grief, hope, and meaning.
For those who have no religious practices, there can be beautiful, secular, memorial services where memories and testimonials are shared, but there can equally be nothing, just the hard reality of the death. Then, people must invent their own quiet ways of remembering. In one case, two close friends held their own private memorial service because the family felt no ceremony was necessary. The friends needed and wanted a ceremony and so they quietly created one. It comforted the mourners, but perhaps was not what the deceased wanted. Sometimes nothing is adequate to comfort the loss that we feel. But that’s no reason not to try to comfort the mourner in a behavior which is meaningful to them.
In all of these scenarios, we ask what is more important, tradition to honor the deceased or ceremony to comfort the living. While a memorial service can help heal the hurt, you might find that nothing can fully heal the loss.
A death changes the existing family structure. It will change by default and hopefully by sensitive negotiation. There is always the opportunity for the living to grow, to reconnect, to forgive or to do the opposite… to regress, to become estranged and double up on past hurts and animosities. The best way to honor the dead is by coming together and reinvesting in the family or the friendship. In this moment, compassion, understanding and love is what is needed, not quibbling. These aren’t bad ingredients for future family interactions either.