death

Divre Harav – May, 2026

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“Now Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered before Adonai alien fire, which He had not enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from Adonai and consumed them; thus they died at the instance of Adonai. Then Moses said to Aaron, ‘This is what Adonai meant when God said: 

Through those near to Me I show Myself holy,
And gain glory before all the people.’

And Aaron was silent.” (Leviticus 10:1-3)

In the face of sudden death, we are most often anything but silent. We cry, we yell at the attending medical staff, we demand to know why our loved one died. We want someone to be held accountable because surely the death was not inevitable, surely someone could have done something at just the right moment to stave off death.

And surely this is true, sometimes. But not always. So Aaron’s reaction is silence, and perhaps acceptance. And this is also an acceptable reaction. Through my work on the Corewell Health ethics committee, I’ve been thinking lately about the issue of medical futility. There comes a point when we will no longer be able to evade death. We might first face it for a loved one, a parent or spouse for whom we have been entrusted with the responsibility of making decisions when they can no longer speak for themselves. Ultimately, we’ll face our own mortality and the question, ‘Is is OK to accept that my body will die or am I obligated to fight to keep it functioning no matter how high the economic or physical cost?’

Judaism holds that life is precious, of infinite value. We are obligating to take care of our health and pay attention to competent medical professionals and get routine medical care such as preventative checkups and vaccinations, and visits to the dentist. Even the short term life of a person in hospice care is precious. We are forbidden to hasten death, even for someone who is actively dying. Judaism believes that the moment of death is in the hands of God. The principle of autonomy plays a larger role in secular medical ethics than it does in Jewish ethics, but there is a role for autonomy in our medical decision making as Jews.

We may evaluate medical treatment based on our ability to withstand the treatment. We may decide to accept the peace of palliative care in place of suffering through a more aggressive treatment. Or we may decide that the possibility of lengthening our days is worth the discomfort or pain of the treatment.

Aaron’s silence in Leviticus 10 might be coming from a place of deep faith in God’s judgment or a place of grief in which he was bereft of words. He might be holding back anger at Moses for trying to justify the loss of two of his children. We face the certainty of the death of those we love and our own mortality. Our society embraces taking an aggressive stance against death, fighting the good fight, but it is a fight we will inevitably lose. Fighting death is ultimately futile.

The lesson I want to take away from Aaron’s silence is that there will come a time to embrace death and to realize that our spirit will continue in some way even after our body no longer functions. Rather than defaulting to the language of combat, consider approaching death with wisdom. Working in partnership with my medical team, what are reasonable goals of care? How may I best live the life that I seek? When the time draws near, how may I most wisely accept death? 

Divre Harav – March, 2024

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In memory of Dale Krishef, Devorah bat Yoel u’Feigel.

Most of us will sit shiva for two major losses during out lifetime, that of our parents; and some will also have occasion to mourn the significant losses of spouses, siblings, or children. Shiva is an intense period of mourning, during which the mourner does not leave his or her home for seven days, except on Shabbat, when the public rituals of mourning are set aside. The mourner wears the torn shirt (or ribbon) during shiva as a sign of loss and we bring a minyan into their home. For a person who is deeply engaged in Jewish community, who is a regular part of a synagogue community, during shiva the community shows its love by reaching out with food and their presence. I can testify first hand to the power of this love and I am grateful to each person who went out of their way to come into our home during my recent shiva after their loss of my mother.

There is wisdom in the practice of Jewish mourning because it places the mitzvah of taking care of the mourner on the community and encourages the mourner to take time off to mourn and reflect.

Following the intensity of shiva, we say kaddish until 30 days after the burial, known as sheloshim. In the cases of the loss of parents, that 30 day mourning period is extended for a year (although most people stop saying kaddish after 11 months). In my case, I am trying to take the prohibition against attending or listening to programs of entertainment fairly seriously, at least for sheloshim. In the normal course of my life, I use entertainment to distract me from my thoughts. It might elevate my thoughts to a higher level, if I am watching a program of substance, but more often, it is the equivalent of cotton candy – no substance, lots of sugar, a distraction with no content of value. When living under a digital entertainment blackout, I find that at least some of the time I am reviewing memories of my mother, along with my father and other family members who are no longer with us. Some memories are pleasant, but many carry levels of regret and sadness. That’s what mourning is about: sitting with the memories, experiencing and processing and sifting through the sadness to find the hidden beauty underneath.

The custom of marking the anniversary of a death, known as yahrtzeit, by saying kaddish is an additional way that we might continue to observe the mitzvah of kibbud av v’eim, honoring one’s father and mother, or showing the same kind of honor and love for the memory of spouses, siblings, and children. There are two parts to this custom. First, I’d encourage you to come to the synagogue on the Shabbat on or before the yahrtzeit to say kaddish and also, if you are comfortable, to receive an aliyah. Second, to help the synagogue gather a minyan of people on the evening or morning of the yahrtzeit itself to say kaddish.

Finally, four times a year we include a special memorial service in the Yom Kippur and Festival services, known as yizkor. This is an additional opportunity and reminder to spend a few minutes thinking about your loved ones and saying prayers in their memory.

Hebrew (and Yiddish) Words of the Month:

  • Shiva – “seven” The seven day mourning period beginning with the burial.
  • Sheloshim – “thirty” The thirty day mourning period beginning with the burial.
  • Kaddish Yatom – “orphan’s Kaddish” The Kaddish assigned to mourners.
  • Yahrtzeit (Yiddish) – “anniversary” The anniversary of a death according to the Hebrew calendar.
  • Yizkor – A memorial service.

On the Death of An Enemy

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What do you do and say when your enemy falls?

Do you follow the advice of Proverbs 24:17, ” If your enemy falls, do not exult; If he trips, let your heart not rejoice?”
Or do you follow the advice of Proverbs 11:10, ” When the wicked perish there are shouts of joy.”

Do you follow the practice of the Pesah seder and spill drops of wine and tears over the loss of life?
Or do you sigh with relief that a man dedicated to evil and death has been eliminated from our world?

Do you bless God, the righteous judge?
Do you bless God who breaks the enemy and humbles the arrogant?

Did you rejoice, or would you have rejoiced on this day 66 years ago when Hitler’s death was announced?
Did you take a breath in wonder at the coincidence of Osama Bin Laden’s death on that anniversary, on the oh-so-grim day that we remember the Shoah?

Along with that sign of relief and that grateful breath, let me just say that I am grateful to our President and our armed forces for their persistence. May it be understood as a message to Islamic fascists that attacks against our country will not go unpunished.