Yesterday I went to the funeral of my mates’s father. He died suddenly of a heart attack brought on by an aneurysm. I’m uncomfortable writing about it because I promised myself I wouldn’t use this journal to write about sad stuff. And this was sad stuff. My mate had been flying back from Israel and found out his father was on life support when he got off the plane in Sydney. They kept him alive long enough so that my mate and his sister could say their farewells…

Judaism buries its dead within 24 hours. For anyone curious, this is based on a Law in the Torah that says you shouldn’t keep a deadman hanging – (Bury the executed on the day they are killed Deut.21:23). We draw from this a Kal Vachomer – that is the rule of How Much More So. The logic goes something like this. If by law you are a meant to bury a criminal on the day he is executed, than how much more so should you bury someone who has never committed a crime. Of course, that piece of logic is based on the assumption that burying someone immediately is a good thing.

Which it is.

The grief is profound is those first 24 hours, and the hardest part is burying the dead. In Judaism we don’t go for the expensive casket. Everyone is buried the same way – in a simple pine box. I’ve always detested Hollywood’s depiction of Jewish burials, because they pretend they’re really Christian burials just with a Rabbi. They’re not. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Jew bury their dead. Once the speeches have been made. The pall bearers take the body to the plot. They then lower it into the ground. It is a Mitzvah for a male to shovel in the dirt. I can’t do it. I find it too disturbing. Though, I made an exception for my Grandfather when he died over a year ago.

Men crowd around the site and shovel, shovel, shovel. The sound of dirt hitting pine, like rain pattering against steel, is the catalyst for the mourners to cry. Hearing that sound brings home the fact, more than anything else, that they will never see that person again.

Once the dead is buried, the Kaddish is said. And a few Tehillim as well. Friends and family then gather around the mourners and offer support.

I wasn’t going to write all that… but it just came out. The concept of singing, or playing a song, or having a wake – all of these ideas are alien to Jewish burial. Jewish death is about deep reflection, about understanding your connection to the departed and his/her spiritual link to God. It’s very humbling. (Of course, I’m not saying that’s exclusive or unique to Judaism, only that the rituals behind a Jewish burial place emphasis on these things).

I promised I would not write LJ’s like this. But I’ve broken my rule.

This man, this very nice man, died suddenly. And while I’ve been to a few funerals (too many) I’ve never been to one where the person has died without warning. The atmopshere is different. The sadness is tinged with a surreal shock. He can’t be gone… I only just saw him the other day… he was so healthy.

I’ve broken my rule.

Last night we sat and we spoke about all things metaphyscial. It was good. It was liberating. It was also draining. I hate being reminded of my mortality.

Anyway, I don’t have a poetic way to end this… back to normal services next time.

May we only live in joy and happiness and blessings.