So today I officiated my first funeral in the time of social distancing. My clergy colleagues have been doing this for weeks, they’ve been thru so much more. I’m in awe. But I wanted to share. Mostly to process. Partially to inform. Thread.
On the eve of #YomHaShoah #HolocaustRemembranceDay I was the only non-cemetery employee present for the burial of a most incredible woman, may her memory be a blessing.
She witnessed kristallnacht as a young teen in Vienna. She escaped to Palestine, eventually setting in Manhattan and raising a family with her beloved. She was incredibly kind. She was beloved. And she loved so many. Her experience burned in her a sense that nobody should suffer.
If her funeral would have been when we weren’t all locked down I’m not sure there would have been less than 500 people who came. But it was during NY on Pause, and so everything was different.
She died Sunday morning before dawn. Cared for, but without family, friends, or clergy. She had fallen last week, broken hip. When you are 95 and you fall and break your hip, it can be replaced but the rest of your body can’t handle it.
Things seemed ok for a couple days. She went to rehab, I even dropped off a care package. At the front door of the facility to a bunch of kind, mask and glove wearing security personnel. Not even clergy allowed in.
She was emailing, calling, FaceTimeing. But her condition began to worsen and she it seems made a decision. It was time. She would let go of life, and return to her husband’s side after losing him 6 years ago.
And so my role began. I put in the customary call to the funeral home, and spoke to an answering service. I expected as much, I’ve read of how busy they are. Still, I never expected what I was to hear.
I’d say a typical day at this funeral home, they have 1-3 deceased to care for. Members of Jewish burial societies called Hevra Kadisha come to perform Tahara, a ritua cleansing and dressing of the body. It is the most dedicated and conscious act, to perform these rites.
Not this day. Tahara is not happening. It’s not safe.
Typically the body is watched until burial. Guarded by members of the community.
Her son called me heartbroken. No Shmirah allowed. No guard. Her body, like ours is to be alone.
The funeral director called me back. If you think, or know anyone who thinks this isn’t a big deal. Who thinks this is just a flu, have them speak to a NYC funeral home. Remember I said they typically have 1-3 deceased to care for?
They had 13. They didn’t know when she would be able to be buried, the cemetery would let them know date and time. This funeral home alone had 6 already heading to that particular cemetery.
Later in the day they called, somehow she would be able to be buried the following day. Today. I would accompany her burial, alone.
Now this is partially because she has no immediate family in NYC, 3 people could have been there. But like I said, in another time dozens of people would have made the drive out to be there.
So I, like my colleagues have been for weeks prepared my mask, my gloves, and my rabbis manual and prepared to head out. Oh, and I set up the zoom meeting so her family could ‘be there.’
The Rabbis manual doesn’t have advice for this btw.
The cemetery office had a list on the door of burials for the day. Close to 30. Nobody was allowed in the office building. And aside from funeral attendees, the place was desolate. It’s jarring to see a place both busier than its ever been and more empty than ever.
I got there super early to wait for the hearse, but then the funeral director called. Wanted me to know her casket and body would arrive by suv, they were out of hearses.
Out. Of. Hearses.
She arrived. And we waited our turn. In the meantime I had the family on zoom, they shared memories, saw faces they didn’t see often. They caught up. It was beautiful, and so very sad.
Finally it was our turn. I followed the suv to the plot, there were the typical sites: employees of the cemetery, a large hole in the ground, a large pile of earth. There was her husband’s stone.
Got out of the car, prepared the people for what was about to happen and here we were. They took her to her grave, lowered the simple pine coffin into the ground, and then they all left.
I didn’t expect that. I thought we would fill in the grave as is customary. Jewish tradition does not like to leave an open grave. But here we were. The suv driver let me know this is how it is now. No time to fill in graves until all are dug for the day.
So I was alone. Next to an open grave, with a whole family on zoom. I told them I was going to put them down for a moment while I used my hands to put some earth into the grave. And there I was. On my knees, alone, pushing earth into her grave.
Not too much, but enough. I heard the familiar thud of diet hitting a coffin. Something finally feeing normal.
Then I got up. Performed the memorial prayer for her. I had called her up to the Torah so many times, I knew her Hebrew name by heart. And the family, together but apart recited the mourners Kaddish.
I never believed that things like Kaddish, requiring a quorum of 10 to be said would be ok over zoom. Times are different now. It’s ok. And it’s beautiful.
I’ve been home much of the day since. Taught a class even. But I’ve never been this emotionally spent from a burial. Then again, I’ve never been to one like this. Anyway, just wanted to share.
When you clap for the essential workers tonight, make sure you are thinking of the funeral home and cemetery employees who are burying more dead than they ever imagined. Think of the clergy who are finding every way they can to care for the bereaved.
And think of this amazing woman. Who saw and survived the fires of the #Shoah. Eyewitness to the worst of humanity. And still, she became the best of humanity.
