To the sofer. “Is this the get you have written?” “Is there any special mark by which you can identify it?” “Did the husband tell you to write the get?” “Were the witnesses present, at least during the time you wrote the first line?”
To the witnesses: “Did you hear the husband order the sofer to write a get for his wife?” “Is this your signature?” “Did the husband tell you to sign it?” Then the get is read again.
To the husband: “Do you give this get of your own free will?” “Did you perhaps make a statement you may have forgotten that might cancel all other statements you made?”
To the wife: “Do you accept this get of your own free will?” “Have you made any statement or vow that would compel you to accept this get against your will?” “Have you made any statement that would nullify the get?”
To those present: “If there is anyone who wishes to protest, let him do so now.”
The husband then calls upon the witnesses to witness the delivery of the get. The rabbi tells the wife to remove all the jewelry from her hands, and to hold her hands together with the palms open, facing upward, so as to receive the get. The sofer folds the get and hands it to the rabbi. The rabbi hands it to the husband who, with both hands, drops it into the palms of his wife. He says, “This is your get, and with it you are divorced from me from this time henceforth, so that you are free to become the wife of any man.” The wife holds up her hands with the get in them, walks a few paces, and returns. She hands the get to the rabbi, who reads it again with the witnesses who are asked once more to identify the get and signatures. The rabbi pronounces an ancient ban against those who try to invalidate a get after it has been transferred. Then the four corners of the get are torn, so that it cannot be used again. It is placed in the files of the bet din for safekeeping, and the rabbis give each party a shtar piturin, a document of release, stating that the get from X to Y is effective, and each is now free to remarry.
If either of the parties cannot, or desires not, to be present, he/she can appoint an agent to stand in. The husband must place the get which he authorized and which was written for him by the sofer in the hands of the agent, who proceeds to deliver the get to the woman or her agent on a day that is specified in the get. The laws of agency are quite complex, which is why the rabbis of the bet din prefer both parties to be present. Nevertheless, agents for the principals are used whenever necessary.
No divorce, no matter how amicable, is pleasant. Even in the best of situations, it is a quiet but profound trauma for the individuals involved. To some extent, a Jewish divorce action, with its routine, methodical procedures and its absence of interpersonal negotiations helps to keep the tensions low. In addition to being the Jewish way of becoming divorced, the get proceedings also lend a note of closure to the relationship, speeding up the process of psychological closure as well. With all that, there are three problems of inequity in traditional Jewish divorce law.
One is the case of the recalcitrant husband who, for reasons of spite or blackmail, withholds the get from his wife, and thereby does not release her to marry or even date other men; for until she has the get in her hand, she is considered his wife and cannot maintain an intimate relationship with another man.
Second, if the husband disappears and his whereabouts are not known, or, if he is presumed dead but his death has not been verified, his wife is unable to secure a release from him in the form of a get, and she remains, therefore, an aguna, a woman “anchored” to an absentee husband. Although the rabbis try very hard to resolve cases of aguna and generally find a means of doing so, sometimes the proceedings can drag on interminably and there is always some extra measure of distress or humiliation involved.
Both of these problems grow out of the fact that it is only the man who may write and deliver the get. And if none is forthcoming, a woman is relatively powerless to coerce.
And third, largely because of the potential abuse of women in this law, the other more liberal segments of the community have formulated their own procedures, which tend to divide the community further.
In sum, this is the time when an ancient Jewish law must and will undergo a measure of reinterpretation so that those women faithful to halacha will not find themselves disadvantaged in family law.
CHAPTER · 14
DEATH AND MOURNING
Mendel knew he was about to die. He had laid to rest so many of his cronies from the shul that he could read the signs. He asks his elderly wife to call for a priest. He wants to convert and be given the Last Rites. “What!” she shrieks. “A pious Jew like you, whose whole life was yiddishkeit? Are you meshugga?” “No,” he replies, “but why should another one of us die?”
No matter what, each one of us will die, and just as there is a way to live as a Jew, there is a way to die and be buried as a Jew. There is a spare dignity to Jewish death rituals, an earthiness and a healthy realism about death, that are coupled with honor for the dead. In fact, the principle of k’vod hamet, the honor of the dead, is the yardstick applied to many of the laws concerning death, burial, and mourning. If it doesn’t meet the test of k’vod hamet, it doesn’t fly.
But more than that, the Jewish way of death contains within its strictures an abiding sensitivity to the living—the survivor, the bereaved, the mourner, the grief-stricken. There are two things in particular about Judaism that no other religion offers quite so uniquely. One is the traditional Shabbat; the other—shivah, a seven-day period of mourning when friends and relatives converge on the bereaved to console/distract/exhaust/numb/feed/comfort/listen/remember/cry/laugh/retell/or simply sit mute and share the silence and the pain.
EUTHANASIA AND LIFE MACHINES
Before one can talk about death, one must say a word about dying. Jewish law forbids anything that would hasten the death of a terminally ill person, but neither does it require postponing death by artificial means. Can one pull the plug? Some authorities say yes, some say no.
VISITING THE SICK
The mitzvah of bikkur cholim, visiting the sick, carries great weight in Jewish tradition. The Rabbis tell us it is a mitzvah the observance of which ensures us a place in the world to come.
VIDDUI
If a dying person has his faculties about him, he—or she—should recite the final Viddui (confession). Although someone attending the ill might feel an inner constraint and an awkwardness, the law nevertheless suggests that that person encourage the dying patient to recite the Viddui. There are several versions of the Viddui, of differing lengths, and all are found in the standard siddur. A moderate-length Viddui goes like this:
I acknowledge before You, God, and God of my fathers, that my recovery or my death are in Your hands. May it be Your will to heal me with a full healing. Yet, if I should die, let my death be an atonement for all my sins and transgressions and evil deeds that I have committed before You. Allow me a share in the Garden of Eden, and make me worthy of a place in the world to come that is reserved for the righteous.
At the final moment, before life gives out, a Jew recites the Shema.
FUNERAL AND BURIAL PRACTICES
When death occurs, the first thing the family does is to call either the rabbi or another of the synagogue functionaries. The synagogue is prepared to take over and see to many of the details. This is what will be done:
The funeral parlor will be contacted to arrange for transfer of the body to its premises, and to set the time of the funeral. Burial must be on the same or the next day, in accordance with the principle of k’vod hamet: it is considered a humiliation of the dead to leave the corpse unburied any longer than absolutely necessary. Only if there are special extenuating circumstances, such as an immediate relative coming in from overseas, or there is not enough time for burial to take place before Shabbat or a holiday, may it be postponed another day.
A well-organized congregation will often make a standard arrangement with the morticians, so that the family need not go immediately to the funeral parlor to sign a contract and
choose a casket. In most instances, however, this task does fall to the immediate family. Jewish law mandates a simple pine casket. A Jew faithful to halacha is thus relieved of the morbid task of choosing this style casket over that one.
The Chevra Kadisha (the sacred burial society) must be alerted. Three or four members of the Chevra will assemble at the funeral parlor to perform the preburial purification of the body (taharah). What is their holy task? They wash the body thoroughly with warm water, from head to foot, including all orifices; they turn it from side to side to wash it, but, as a sign of respect, never with its face down. After the washing, they dress the body in tachrichim, a simple white linen or cotton shroud (again, it is kept simple and uniform in order to avoid distinguishing between rich and poor and embarrassing the latter). If a man wore a tallit regularly during his lifetime, he is buried with it. The custom is to render it defective by cutting off one of its fringes. If a person suffered a loss of blood—such as in an injury or an accident—and the blood soaked through into his clothing, he is buried without taharah in those same clothes, because the blood of a person is considered as holy as his life and deserves proper burial.
Most synagogues have their own Chevra Kadisha group, one for males and one for females, each with a dozen or so volunteer members who alternate taharah assignments. It never ceases to amaze me who serves on the Chevra Kadisha. In our synagogue, on the men’s Chevra, there is a busy millionaire. On the women’s Chevra, there is a stunningly chic young woman, in her mid-thirties, always strikingly dressed, always coiffed, manicured, and made up to perfection. Who in the world would guess that every few weeks she spends a morning or an afternoon washing and dressing a withered, decaying, dead body? She doesn’t love it, but she feels it’s her responsibility. I’m grateful she feels that way, because I could never do it, and someone has to.
The body is placed in its plain, wooden casket to await the funeral and burial. Judaism forbids cremation and embalming. Once the body is placed in a casket, it remains closed. The custom of making up the body with cosmetics and placing it on view—as some Jews practice today—is a Christian custom and is clearly forbidden by Jewish law.
Shemira is a ritual that grows out of the principle of k’vod hamet: the body may not be left alone from the moment of death until the moment of burial. Either the family, the synagogue, or the funeral parlor will arrange to have someone in attendance in the room with the body every moment. That person, called the shomer, passes the time reciting Tehillim (Psalms).
Why a hasty burial? Why a simple coffin and plain shrouds? Couldn’t one just as easily interpret k’vod hamet to be the very opposite of these pared-down forms?
Judaism teaches us two profound lessons. One is that life and death are absolutely distinct. When life is over, it is over. Once I attended a wake; I continually heard people say, “My, he looks so good! He looks so alive!” While Judaism is not suggesting that one ought to say, “My, he looks so dead,” it recognizes that life is over and one ought to be returned to the earth as quickly as possible. The body is only the shell of the full human being that once was. It does not do justice to the person to parade the shell no matter how dressed up or cosmetized.
The second lesson is that neither an ostentatious funeral nor designer coffins nor lying in state nor any of the accouterments of status we seek in our lifetime are of ultimate value. It is death that restores that relative perspective. There is only one form of honor that is central to Jewish mourning rituals—that people who were related to the dead person through ties of love and of family come in person to escort and to bury the dead and to comfort the mourners. That is why we do not hire professionals to do these tasks. The ultimate honor one can bestow on the dead is acknowledgment that he or she lived a life interrelated with others and these others care enough to pay tribute in person.
The Funeral
In many funeral parlors, the family sits in an anteroom prior to the funeral, while friends come in to pay their respects. This is not absolutely necessary, and a mourner who is not up to it can request not to have visitors prior to the funeral.
Immediately before the funeral begins, kriah takes place. Kriah, making a tear in the garment of the mourner(s), is a symbol of the torn and broken heart. While all mourn the death of a relative or friend, “mourner” technically refers to the seven immediate relatives: spouse, mother, father, daughter, son, sister, brother. Generally the rabbi, or whoever is officiating at the funeral, will make a tear in the garment. The blessing recited at the time of kriah is:
Baruch ata Adonai Elohainu melech ha’olam dayan ha’emet.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, the true Judge.
A shortened form of this blessing is recited by anyone upon witnessing or learning of a death:
Baruch dayan emet.
Blessed be the one true Judge.
Jewish funerals are very simple. They begin with a recitation from Psalms, which is followed by a eulogy and the chanting of the El Maleh Rachamim, the memorial prayer. Partly as a result of the factorylike business of funeral parlors, and partly because of the simplicity of Jewish law in these matters, a funeral rarely takes more than half an hour. The casket is carried or wheeled out of the room by members of the Chevra Kadisha (even if the deceased is a woman and the women’s Chevra did the taharah, still the men’s Chevra ushers the casket out). The mourners follow behind the casket. Those assembled respectfully stand in their places and wait to leave until all the family mourners have filed out. For those who go to the funeral but not to the cemetery, the custom is to walk behind the hearse for several yards as it leaves for the burial grounds. This is in fulfillment of the mitzvah of levayat hamet, escorting the dead.
A Kohen, a Jew of priestly descent, is not permitted to enter a funeral parlor, or any other interior space where the dead body rests, except in cases where the dead person is one of seven immediate relatives. Thus, a Kohen who is a close friend or distant relative will often be found standing outside the funeral parlor, paying his respects that way, for he can come no closer. Similarly, a Kohen will never enter a cemetery, except for the burial of immediate family members.
THE CEMETERY
At the gates of the cemetery, the coffin is removed and carried by several people to the grave. The custom is to stop seven times along the way, reciting Psalm 91. After the coffin has been lowered into the grave, members of the family or close friends throw a few handfuls of earth over the coffin. Psalm 91 is read again, and the El Maleh Rachamim is also recited. After the burial service, the nonfamily members present form two lines, and the family mourners pass between them while the others recite the traditional condolence formula:
Hamakom y’nachem etchem b’toch sh’ar availai tziyon vee’yerushalayim.
May God comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
Before leaving the cemetery, each person washes his/her hands as a symbolic cleansing.
According to Jewish law, suicides were not permitted burial in the regular Jewish cemetery, but instead were confined to a corner immediately outside of it. Nowadays, the law takes into account that a suicide is not a criminal but a victim, and is buried with full honors accorded the Jewish dead.
Shiva
Immediately after the funeral, the family goes home, preferably to the home of the deceased, to begin the period of shiva. The seven close relatives are obligated to observe this mourning period.
There are many laws and customs that define this shiva period: The first meal, upon return from the cemetery, is called the seudat havra’ah, the meal that begins the process of healing and repair. This meal is prepared and served by friends or neighbors. It usually includes round foods, such as eggs, which are a symbol of life and hope, and also of the wheel of fate in which life and death are in an endless circle with each other.
All the mirrors in the house of a mourner are covered with white sheets or are “smoked” with a soapy film. A special shiva memorial candle is lit. It burns
through the entire seven days. The mourners sit on low stools, wear no leather on their feet, do not shave, have haircuts, or wear cosmetics. Nor do they have sex during the shiva period. A daily shower is permitted, but not a luxurious bath. Mourners wear the garment with the kriah throughout the shiva period, although this can be washed and dried overnight for hygienic reasons.
The mourners do not leave the place of shiva, neither day nor night, unless some of them must go home to sleep. It is preferable for families to sit shiva together. It is amazing how many family reconciliations have taken place during shiva.
Beginning with the shiva period, the mourners recite the Kaddish three times each day. Kaddish can be recited only in the presence of a minyan. Since mourners do not leave the place of shiva for a full week, a minyan must come to them each morning for Shacharit and each evening for Minchah and Maariv. Most communities are sufficiently well organized to ensure a quorum for each service, but even so, there are the inevitable 7:00 A.M. phone calls in search of a tenth man.
A Torah scroll may be placed in the house of the mourners, where it will be read as usual on Monday and Thursday mornings, and oftentimes at Shabbat Minchah service. The laws of transporting a Torah scroll, however, are quite complex, so this custom may vary from community to community. Some consider it a lack of respect to move the Torah from its permanent resting place to a temporary location. Therefore, in some communities, the Torah will not be provided at all, or it will be provided only when there is a minimum of three separate readings during the shiva.
If Shabbat intervenes, the mourners go to the synagogue for prayer services. The custom is for the mourners to wait in the vestibule, outside the sanctuary, until the congregation has sung the Lecha Dodi prayer. Then, the mourners enter the sanctuary, and the congregation greets them with the consolation prayer:
How to Run a Traditional Jewish Household Page 29