Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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Category: death

#BlogElul 23: You turn my mourning into dancing

September 18, 2014 /
Today’s blog is dedicated to the memory of Mordecai Levow
my father-in-law


Yizkor on Yom Kippur is … not about human frailty or the futility of human endeavors. Yizkor on Yom Kippur is about the power of others to affect us, about our power to affect others, about the power of the dead and the living to continue to affect each other. Yizkor on Yom Kippur is … not simply about remembering the dead, by about attempting to effect change in our relationships with the dead and thus to effect change in ourselves and in our relationships with those who are still among the living.
(Rabbi Margaret Moers Wenig, in the CCAR Draft machzor, forthcoming 2015, Mishkan haNefesh, Yizkor service)

I’ve missed a number of days of Elul to blog because my father-in-law died last Wednesday. After his funeral in Florida on Friday morning, my wife and her sister returned to sit shiva at our home in Massachusetts. What happened over those days was a reflection of how love, healing, and change are truly what the rituals of remembrance are about, and enable us to do.  For those who joined us for multiple nights of shiva, the change that occurred over those days as memories and reflections were shared was quite evident, and powerful for many.
Without sharing the specifics here, the journey we took was one that first confronted the past, and acknowledged the challenge of engaging with memory in the face of difficult relationships. Yet, with the honesty of needing to acknowledge the challenges, the blessings that emerged from those life experiences were also evident.  On the following night, more family members gathered and a broader range of perspectives and memories were shared. There were many moments of laughter. There was a release – the laughter not only lifted the weight of some of the challenging memories, but also opened up the banks of memories that were positive and powerful. And so, by the third night, new stories had been laid bare and had risen to the surface. There were words of forgiveness, acceptance, and love.  By the fourth night, in a beautiful, spontaneous sharing and connecting of memories and reflections connected to the words of specific prayers as we davenned (prayed) the ma’ariv (evening) service, there was a sense of completeness. We were speaking of a life lived, and memories that we carry with us, but embedded into the heart of the tefilot that were so much a part of Mordecai’s being that, when advanced dementia had taken almost all else from him, davenning was the only activity that he could still do, in short bouts.
In the forthcoming CCAR machzor, Mishkan haNefesh, we find a version of precisely how we did our remembrances on the last night of shiva.  We are offered 7 paths, where readings, psalms and reflective texts are woven around the 7 thematic blessings of the Tefilah, or Amidah prayer, the central prayer of our Shabbat and Festival liturgy.  There is an abundance of material – many, many years worth of exploration and contemplation. There is a clear recognition that everyone remembers differently. There are ways to remember children who died too young. There is a prayer in memory of a parent who was hurtful. There are words to remember one who died violently. There are words to remember dearly beloved ones. And so many more.
As we return to Yizkor, year after year, we do not necessarily have to engage in the memories in the same way. With the passage of time, and the ways we remember may we, as invited by Rabbi Wenig in the reflection above, find the possibility to change our relationships with the dead, and thus effect change in ourselves and in our relationships with those who are still among the living.

Jewish Views of the Afterlife: Adult Ed class session audio now online

October 7, 2013 /

Starting with session 2, each week of a 6 week mini-course on Jewish views of the Afterlife are being recorded as audio files and are available to listen to online or to download and take with you via our Soundcloud account.  You can click below for immediate access. Please fast-forward to minute 2 to get past class member introduction and into the start of the program.  The remainder of the course will be uploaded as soon after each session (which takes place on Sunday mornings, 9-10am at Congregation B’nai Shalom) has been completed. ‘Jewish Views of the Afterlife’, by Rabbi Simcha Paull Raphael, is the primary text being used to identify all original sources and as the basic structure for the course.

A brief introductory sound file that summarizes what was presented in the first session will be available shortly.

#BlogElul: What is my purpose? #takeaseatmakeafriend

September 2, 2013 /

Every time I officiate at a funeral, and every time I hear a eulogy, the question of purpose in life arises for me. At each of those funerals and in each of those eulogies, I hear different answers to the question. What I have learned is that there is not ‘an answer’ to our existence. The meaning-making comes from the specific choices that each of us has made and the specific paths that each of us have travelled.

When you ask yourself the question, don’t expect to arrive at ‘the’ answer. But to live without regrets, to live mindfully, choosing your path in each and every moment, requires that we carry the question in our hearts at all times.  Only this can ensure that we don’t sleep-walk our way through life.

The sound of the shofar is our wake up call. Where are you? What are you here to do in this very moment?

What happens next? Reflections on Steve Jobs’ last words

November 3, 2011 /

In the last few days, many people have been talking about the eulogy that Mona Simpson, Steve Jobs’ sister, gave at his funeral. More specifically, her sharing of his last words:

The Huffington Post reported: In a stirring eulogy delivered at Jobs’ memorial, held at Standford University’s Memorial Church on October 16, Simpson revealed the last words Jobs uttered mere hours before he died. Her tribute to her brother was reprinted by the New York Times on October 30. According to the Times’ printed version, Simpson said Jobs had been looking at the members of his family, gathered around his bed, when he gazed past them and said,” OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.”

Much has been said by media pundits, blogged, and talked about in homes, over coffee and around water coolers, about what those last words might have meant. I’m not going to provide ‘the answer’, or even ‘a Jewish answer’. We simply don’t know. Way back in the Talmud (compilation of Rabbinic writings from approx. 0-500 CE), Rabbi Joshua ben Chanania said, ‘When they come to life again, we will consult about the matter.’ (Niddah 70b). Of course, this in itself might be understand as the declaration of a particular belief – that one day the dead will rise again. But this quote came to mind because, in effect, ben Chanania is also saying that we simply aren’t able to say with any certainty what happens after we die and until someone comes back to our world to tell us how it is, we’re not going to be able to reach any conclusions.

What is interesting to me is the widespread response to Steve Jobs’ last words. A few weeks ago I was discussing beliefs about God with some of my eighth grade class. One group that I was talking to largely expressed that they didn’t think they believed in something after death, but that they wished they did – they liked the idea, and found it comforting. In a recent discussion about death and dying at Fairfield University where I was a guest speaker, some students expressed belief in a heaven, but they no longer held to the idea that one would be judged and one’s destination depended on choices in this world. Perhaps there was just one ‘place’ where we all went, and perhaps it was more a transferral of energy or awareness, but not an actual physical place. Some expressed that it was in actions, family, and memory that we ‘lived on’, but only in those kinds of realms in this world.

While we may not be able to achieve clarity of answer, both the ideas we have and the questions we have about life after death are core questions that human beings have pondered since we walked on this earth. Every culture, every civilization, and every religion has had one or more ways of responding to the question. The great Jewish teacher and philosopher of the twelfth century, Maimonides, wrote extensively of the ideas found among the Jewish people in his introduction to Perek Helek. Maimonides was largely dismissive of most the mainstream ideas of his time, and implied that they taught us more about what people valued in this world than informed us of the truth of what happens when we die.

As a Rabbi, I’ve had enough exchanges with people about near death experiences, or the sense of presence of a loved one after they have died, that I have come to believe that something continues after our physical death on this earth. I’ve had personal experiences that have brought me to that place of believing in an energy – what some might call the Soul – that goes on. And, while I know those same experiences could be explained in other ways, I find my belief comforting and I believe it is comforting to others. An important part of my faith involves being able to live in the space of ‘not knowing’. I am able to experience the mystery of life and Creation in a deep and visceral way when I am able to occupy that space of not knowing. This is an important part of my spiritual awareness.

And so, while I don’t know what Steve Jobs, may he rest in peace, saw or felt in his last breaths, I hope his soul is united again with the energetic source of all existence. I hope it is quite incredible – the kind of incredible to which we might only be able to utter ‘Oh wow!’
Rachel Gurevitz

19 Elul. Contemplating life and loss

September 7, 2009 /

I was recently in conversation with a friend about the experience of being a rabbi and officiating at many funerals.  I was asked if and how I was affected by encountering so much loss and death.  While there is a great deal that could be said, and I’m sure many clergy would answer the question differently, the experience of officiating at funerals always leaves me contemplative, returning to some of life’s biggest questions.

When I speak to friends and family of the deceased, in order to gather impressions and stories for a eulogy, or when I listen to the eulogies of others delivered at the funeral, particularly when I did not personally know the deceased or did not know them well, I am often left with the feeling that I missed out by not having had the opportunity to experience this individual in my life.  It is a very powerful experience to hear how they were present in the lives of others, leaving one feeling a sense of their absence very strongly.  The message – every life is unique and every person is special and has contributed something to the life of others.

I am also drawn to spend some time recognizing the preciousness of people in my life and sometimes find myself stepping into the time when they will not be with me in this world.  I feel the potential of loss acutely, and my love for friends and family feels intensified in that moment.

I also find myself reflecting on my own life.  Am I living it the way I would want it to be remembered?  What is the source of my life’s meaning?

We must not wait for the funerals of our lives to contemplate these questions to find meaning in all the connections we have and the communities we are part of.  We must not wait until the end to tell others how much we truly loved them and cherished them in our lives, or how much we learnt from them.  On Yom Kippur in the medieval poem unetaneh tokef we are asked to contemplate who shall live and who shall die.  I don’t believe in a God who is willfully making those decisions about each of us.  But I do believe that every human being is unique and every life is special, and we are called upon at the New Year to return to who we truly are, recommit to connect more passionately and more deeply with each other.  Because this is the only life that we have, and this is where we will find ultimate meaning and, ultimately, find God.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

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