Lady In Velvet Recedes In The Nights Of Goodbye (Robert Hunter & Jerry Garcia - "Dark Star")

           It’s not every day that we attend the funeral of a King or a Queen. Yet, earlier this week, a billion people tuned in for part of (if not all) Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral. For about a week, the coffin bearing the Queen lay in State in her beloved Scotland and then was brought to London. Along the way people stopped and respectfully acknowledged the coffin’s passing by. Once in London, Queen Elizabeth lay in state for several days and millions of people stood in line, some time for as much as 30 hours in order to be physically close to the coffin, and pay final respects. On the day of the funeral, millions lined the route as the coffin was brought to Westminster Abbey where the funeral service was conducted. During this time, it was clearly evident that all of the Royal Family wanted the coffin to be accessible to all of the Queen’s subjects. She did not lie in State for only the noble class. She did not lie in state for only white Englishmen. She did not lie in state for only a certain gender, or only for the wealthy privileged class. Anyone and everyone who stood there at the appropriate moment caught a glimpse and had a moment of closure.  

            This week’s Parsha is the Parsha Nitzavim. According to the Aggadah, this is the recounting of Moshe Rabeinu’s last day of life. Unafraid of his imminent death, he gathers his family: Rosheichem, Shivteichem, Zikneichem, v’Shotreichem, Kol Ish Yisroel, Topchem N’Sheichem V’Geircha Asher B’Kerev Machanecha Meichotev Eitzecha Ad Sho’eiv Meimecha – The heads of your tribes, your elders, and your officers, all the men of Yisroel; your children, your women, and the stranger who is in the midst of our camp, from the woodchopper to the one who draws water (Deut. 29:9-10). Moshe imparts the last vestiges of wisdom to his children and his people. Moshe wants to make sure that everything is in order when he dies and Joshua takes over. Moshe truly has been blessed. He has had the blessing of old age, and here God has granted him the gift of saying goodbye in perhaps the most wonderful fashion. God has commanded Moshe to say his goodbyes and impart the final vestiges of wisdom.

            We are taught that death is a part of life. Yet many of us are afraid of death. Many of us believe that we should shield our children from death, sadness and loss. However, when we read Parsha Nitzavim, we learn that while impending death is sad, death in the manner of Moshe’s can take on an aura of holiness – of Kedushah. It is in holiness that we attain the highest level of life, a life that is directly connected to God. When death comes like this, from God, with an opportunity to say Goodbye- with an opportunity to impart wisdom to one’s children, death is not mundane, death is not ordinary, but rather holy and part of life, the final expression of holiness in a very physical endeavor. When we talk of strength, we, unfortunately, think of the person who lifts a lot of weight. We think of the person who doesn’t cry, who remains stoic if he/she is all torn up inside. At this time of year, from Elul through Sukkot, when we recite the 27th Psalm and conclude with the words Chazak v’Ya’Ameitz Libecha, v’Kavei El Adoshem – Strengthen yourself, and he will give you courage; and hope to HaShem! We now understand what it means to strengthen oneself.  Moshe had that kind of strength. To be aware of the end of life, to prepare for it, to draw loved ones toward and tell them how we feel is the epitome of courage.

           In a sense,  Queen Elizabeth’s funeral wasn’t just a sacred ritual in which respect was paid to the deceased. Even in death, the Queen managed to allow her people to engage in a holy endeavor.  By giving her subjects the opportunity to come together and offer “final respects” we are reminded to reaffirm and celebrate life no matter how difficult, no matter how troubling. This Shabbat is the final Shabbat of the Jewish year. The  Jewish People are days away from celebrating Rosh HaShanah, (Jewish New Year). Rosh HaShanah is also known as Yom HaDin (Judgment Day). So while there is joy at arriving on the brink of a new year, perhaps there is a bit of anxiety while awaiting Judgment. However, during this anxious moment, we are reminded that we are all gathered and standing in judgment. Every Jew, from every walk of life, stands before God in Judgement, stands before God for a moment of accessibility.  

Peace,
Rav Yitz 

I Thought I Heard A Young Man Mourn This Morning (Bonnie Dobson - "Morning Dew")

          Earlier this week, amid the ongoing pandemic of Covid 19, Israel stopped to commemorate their fallen soldiers and those who died from acts of terror, and then Israel stopped to celebrate its Independence. Earlier this week, Israel observed Yom HaZikaron and celebrated Yom Ha’Atzmaut. During Yom HaZikaron, my wife, children, and I attended a funeral in Israel. A 16-year-old former bunkmate of our son tragically passed away. My wife knew the parents from summer camp, they were at our son’s Bar Mitzvah in Eretz Yisroel. As we watched the funeral via YouTube, we listened to eulogies given by a teacher, by his Rav, and by his father and older sister. My wife cried, my daughters and I welled up in tears, our son sat, stunned, silent. The father spoke of his son, his wonderful attributes, as a son, a brother, as a grandson, and as a friend. He alluded to Avraham Avinu, the “ten tests” that the Talmudic sages explain the events told in the Torah culminating in Akedat Yitzchak (the Binding of Isaac). We listened and our hearts sank given the pain and sorrow this family has experienced now experiencing the unfathomable of losing a child. Yet it was the words of his older sister that were so powerful and heartbreaking. She explained that a recent school assignment had been to determine a before and “after point” in one’s life, a point where an event altered the sense of life’s path. She explained that this moment, on this Yom HaZikaron would be her “after point”. An aspect of her young teenage life will forever be oriented around memory, the memory of her brother, and all of his wonderful qualities. She explained that any friend she makes in the future, any boyfriend, or her husband, will only know of her brother through her memory. If she is blessed with children, they will never know their uncle except through her memory. This will be her ‘after point’. Of course, the”‘after point” assumes that the survivor continues to leade a meaningful life comforted by memories of her brother’s life and his blessings.

         This Shabbat, like last Shabbat, we read from two Parshiot. This week we read the double Parsha of Acharei Mot/ Kedoshim. After two Parshiot, Tazria, and Metzorah, which essentially interrupted the narrative and the laws that had been focused upon the Kohanim, we now return to the Kohen as the central focus in the Parsha. Now that he has become spiritually pure, the Torah is now ready to teach the laws for the spiritual purity of the nation. We have focused upon the impurities of individuals, now we focus upon the community. The Kohen acts on behalf of the nation just like he acts on behalf of the individual. The Torah teaches us the laws for the offerings of Yom Kippur, national atonement, and Azazel otherwise known as the Scapegoat. The Scapegoat is not offered as a sacrifice to God, but rather is sent out from the camp and left to wander in the wilderness eventually succumbing to the elements. The second half of the Parsha focuses on the holy and holy relationships within the family. However, the list of inappropriate behaviors between family members is taught within the context of the other nations. The list of inappropriate behavior in terms of worship, in terms of caring for the employer and employee, between the vulnerable and the well-off, between people are all taught within the context of other nations. Essentially other nations provide a standard of inappropriate behavior.

         However, it is somewhat odd that the standards for inappropriate behavior come from two distinct places. One place is Egypt; the place where this journey began. The other place is Eretz Canaan; the place where this journey is supposed to conclude. The Torah considers both places impure, and unholy. Both places engage in behavior that the Torah considers not only bad but behavior deemed to be an abomination. In both places, Egypt and Canaan, the dominant culture worshiped death and didn’t sanctify life. Human sacrifices are made, the vulnerable are not taken care of, and there is no mechanism in place for a community to ever return to a previous point of spiritual purity and sanctity – T’Shuvah (repentance). In fact, both places, the place of origin and place of destination are so impure, the abominations are so deplorable that to mimic such behavior is tantamount to spiritual death. The only example, the only other being to mimic and to imitate learned behavior is God. Vi’Heyitem Li Kedoshim Ki Kadosh Ani Adoshem Va’Avdil Etchem Min Ha’Amim Li’heyot Li – You shall be holy for me for I, Hashem, am holy; and I have separated you from the People’s to be mine. (Lev. 20:26). Rashi explains that Holiness is the act of sanctifying life, and if B’nai Yisroel’s behavior is not distinct from the nations as “belonging to Nebuchadnezzar and his colleagues.” No, Rashi is not suggesting that a failure to observe mitzvot and follow God’s Torah is the equivalent of a man that destroyed Jerusalem, the First Temple, and put B’nei Yisroel into exile. Rather, as the Chatam Sofer explains, that the failure to remain distinct from other nations risks B’nei Yisroel’s existence. Along with the risk of “disappearing” of assimilation comes the risk of losing collective memory.

          Even though he and his family were touched by death, Aharon and his two surviving sons leaned into life, served on behalf of B’nai Yisroel, followed God’s commandments, and continued striving towards holiness. Certainly, Aharon, his son’s and wife, experienced their own “after point” their own turning point. For the older sister who spoke so lovingly of her brother, she understood that she and her younger sisters had been touched by the death of their 16-year-old brother. She explained that there will be an Acharei Meit, an “after point” in which they will have to choose. Choose to disappear and cease living a life in which they strive for Kedoshim, or find a path to live a life of holiness whereby they live and thrive, and in doing so, the memory of their brother lives and thrives as well. II hope our children understood the lesson that this young woman learned and explained so beautifully and heartfelt.

Peace,
Rav Yitz

Faring Thee Well Now; Let Your Life Proceed By Its Own Designs (John Barlow & Bob Weir - "Cassidy")

While rushing around getting children ready for school, while our eldest daughter was busy preparing her candidate to win her respective primary, while a daughter was learning in Jerusalem; each one at some point stopped what they were doing and watched two funerals. Because of the technology, internet, and YouTube, our children were able to watch these funerals at more convenient times, or pause rather than sitting through each funeral which was a multi-hour affair. One funeral for was for Aretha Franklin and one funeral was for Senator John McCain, both funerals celebrated their lives, both funerals honored their lives, and both funeral services clearly were organized in the final months of each of their respective lives. From the music to the choice of speakers and even to the eulogies themselves; one could hear and see Ms. Franklin and Senator McCain’s stamp of approval. As my children watched and listened, I shared with them that if the type of music and the songs that I would want to be played and sung. In reference to my children speaking at my funeral, I told them that if they could say ¼ of the beautiful things that Meghan McCain said about her father in regards to me; then I will be eternally and gratefully dead. Needless to say, my kids weren’t so happy with me, but they understood what I was telling them. Even now, when I think about the individual who knows that death is imminent, and has the courage to share his/her thoughts and transmit his/her wisdom; I am inspired. I hope that whenever my time comes, I pray that I will be aware enough so that I can tell my wife and children and if I am blessed to have grandchildren, that my life has been a blessing because of them.  

                This week’s Parsha is the Parsha Nitzavim. According to the Aggadah, this the recounting of Moshe Rabeinu’s last day of life. Unafraid of his imminent death, he gathers his family: Rosheichem, Shivteichem, Zikneichem, v’Shotreichem, Kol Ish Yisroel, Topchem N’Sheichem V’Geircha Asher B’Kerev Machanecha Meichotev Eitzecha Ad Sho’eiv Meimecha – The heads of your tribes, your elders, and your officers, all the men of Yisroel; your children, your women, and the stranger who is in the midst of our camp, from the woodchopper to the one who draws water (Deut. 29:9-10). Moshe imparts his last vestiges of wisdom to his children, his people. Moshe wants to make sure that everything is in order when he dies and Joshua takes over. Moshe truly has been blessed. He has had the blessing of old age, and here God has granted him the gift of saying goodbye in perhaps the most wonderful fashion. God has commanded Moshe to say his goodbyes and impart the final vestiges of wisdom.

                We are taught that death is a part of life. Yet many of us are afraid of death. Many of us believe that we should shield our children from death, sadness and loss. However, when we read Parsha Nitzavim, we learn that while impending death is sad, death in the manner of Moshe’s can take on an aura of holiness – of Kedushah. It is in holiness that we attain the highest level of life, a life that is directly connected to God. When death comes like this, from God, with an opportunity to say Goodbye- with an opportunity to impart wisdom to one’s children, death is not mundane, death is not ordinary, but rather holy and part of life, the final expression of holiness in a very physical endeavor. When we talk about strength, we, unfortunately, think of the person who lifts a lot of weight. We think of the person who doesn’t cry, who remains stoic if he/she is all torn up inside. At this time of year, from Elul through Sukkot, when we recite the 27^th Psalm and conclude with the words Chazak v’Ya’Ameitz Libecha, v’Kavei El Adoshem – Strengthen yourself, and he will give you courage; and hope to HaShem!, we now understand what it means to strengthen oneself.  Moshe had that kind of strength. To be aware of the end of life, to prepare for it, to draw loved ones toward and tell them how we feel is the epitome of courage.

 In a sense, Aretha Franklin and John McCain’s funeral wasn’t just a sacred ritual in which respect was paid to the deceased. Even in death, through music, through words of children, through words of friends and through the words of respectful rivals who eventually became friends, these two fallen giants, these two icons and heroes managed to do something incredibly holy. These two giants, and iconic figures reminded us to reaffirm life no matter how difficult, no matter how troubling. The Jewish People are less than a week from celebrating Rosh HaShanah, (Jewish New Year). Rosh HaShanah is also known as Yom HaDin (Judgment Day). So while there is joy at arriving on the brink of a new year, perhaps there is a bit of anxiety while awaiting Judgment. Whatever the upcoming year may bring; I pray that I have the courage to impart my wisdom to my children, and tell my wife how much she has blessed my life.

Peace,

Rav Yitz

Death Don't Have No Mercy (Rev. Gary Davis)

For the past week I have been in San Francisco, my wife’s hometown. No, we haven’t been on a vacation. My wife’s father passed away last Shabbat and we, my wife, my four children and I came to the funeral and stayed for Shiva. Shiva is winding down as my wife and her mother will arise from Shiva on Sunday morning. While my wife and her mother have been mourning, and fulfilling the obligations of mourners, the entire Jewish people spent an intensive day of mourning during Tisha B’Av, the commemoration of the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem as well as the an array of other historical calamities that befell our people. Needless to say there were numerous questions about whether we should take the children to the cemetery. My wife thought it best that they should just stay in the car, her mother agreed, explaining that a cemetery was no place for children and that it would make them very uncomfortable. While we made our way from the funeral home towards the cemetery, I explained that my kids were coming with us to the cemetery, they would stand next to their mother and father as opposed to being alone in a car with a million unanswered questions, an equal number of anxieties floating around their heads, and imagining something far worse than reality. We compromised by not allowing our children to shovel the dirt upon the casket but they stood by us, asked lots of questions, received lots of answers, and were essentially comforted during a rather uncomfortable moment. More importantly, they learned how to behave in such a situation. They became just a little more familiar with death and burial and they learned that death is part of life. I have done lots of funerals; many adults are not mature enough to handle death like these three children handled it.

This Shabbat we read from Parsha V’Etchanan. Because this is the Shabbat immediately after Tisha B’Av, and the Haftarah begins with the word Nachamu (Comfort), this Shabbat is known as Shabbat Nachamu – or the Shabbat of Comfort. Considering, the Jewish people just observed Tisha B’Av, comfort seems to be both a timely and well deserved. In the Parsha, Moshe continues recounting the recent history of Bnai Yisroel and exhorts this generation to follow the commandments. Moshe recounts the revelation at Sinai. He reminds Bnai Yisroel that the generations that come later will fail to fulfill the covenant, they will be exiled but eventually later generations will return. Moshe reiterates the purpose of the Arei Miklachat – the Cities of Refuge. Finally Moshe warns and cajoles Bnai Yisroel of the vital importance of passing this tradition, and these laws to their children. Comfort doesn’t necessarily come from Moshe and Parsha V’Etchanan. Rather Comfort comes from the Prophet, Nachamu Nachamu says Isaiah, proclaiming that the exile has come to an end and Bnai Yisroel can return to the land.

Implicit in the Parsha is a means for all of us to find comfort. However this is not warm fuzzy comfort that makes us feel warm and toasty inside. Nor is the kind of comfort that reassures us that no matter what we will be OK. Moshe does us comfort. However this is the type of comfort that is based upon hard work. This is the typ e of comfort that is based upon taking responsibility for our emotions, our behavior, and our decisions. This is the type of comfort that makes no guarantee as to a specific outcome. Instead this is type of comfort that keeps us connected to God and our children no matter the difficulties and hardships of life. First Moshe states V’Atem Ha’Dveikim B’Adoshem Elokeichem Chayim Kulchem HaYom – You who cling to the Hashem, Your God, You are all alive today. Comfort can be found in a relationship with God. Spiritual life, sustenance and strength can be found in the manner in which we cling to God. Later Moshe will tell Bnai Yisroel V’Shinantam Levanech V’Dibarta Bam – You shall teach them [words of Torah] thoroughly to your children (Deut. 6:7) Comfort is the hard work of passing Torah down to the one’s children. Comfort is knowing that wherever our children are during the course of their lives, whether experiencing sickness, death, sadness, or loss, they are equipped to handle it. Torah and God are vital tools in the toolbox that we offer our children to deal with life.

After we buried my father-in law, we headed back to the cars. My son was upset. We talked. I asked him why he was upset. Then he and I walked back to the grave, we watched the grave diggers finish filling the grave. I explained that because his grandfather had been so sick it was a better that he was now in the ground next to those who loved him so much, his parents and his sister. We thanked the gravediggers and returned to the cars. My son looked up and said that “I guess we will all die some day, so we should make sure that we live good lives.” My jaw dropped as I was shocked by the wisdom of this 7 year old. I asked him what “living a good life” means. “Abba”, he said, “that’s easy you be a dad to your children and teach them Torah.” Sometimes comfort and re-assurance can come from the words of torah, an inspiring scene in nature, and sometimes it can come from a 7 year old boy speaking with no pretense from the heart.

Peace,

Rav Yitz