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Joe Reiser

A Jewish perspective on death, the supernatural and closure

The 8th of Iyar (May 4th) commemorated the 8th yahrzeit (anniversary) of my father’s passing.  As I reflect and gather thoughts each year, a very real awareness sprung to mind.  In two short weeks, I will have lived 70% as long as him.  On paper, I should have accrued 70% of his wisdom, 70% of his intellect, 70% of his analytical aptitude and so on.  However, this is not the case.  No matter how much I learn, grow and experience, I find myself exponentially behind him by almost every measurable metric.  My father was a man of very few words, but when he did speak, people listened.  When I went to him for guidance on any issue or asked how I should proceed in various situations, he always had the answer, or at least was able help me draw a logical conclusion – with very little perceived effort.  Now that he has passed on to Olam HaBa (the world to come), I am not able to seek his insight, and this has left a very large void directly in life as well as my family’s.  His grandchildren will only know him through stories and family videos.

From a Jewish perspective, unequivocally, death is not the end, rather a change from physical and spiritual energy to only spiritual.  But was does this mean, especially for the living?  After my father passed, I remember wanting just one more conversation.  Just one more text message.  Just one more piece of advice.  Even though his death was not sudden or unexpected, saying a final goodbye is always hard.  Naturally, I pondered many things.  Are we allowed to speak with those in grave for final closure?  Is this possible?   Do the dead know what is happening in this world?  More importantly, do they care?  The Torah recognizes even under the best of circumstances death is never easy and we are given very specific methods on how we care for our deceased, show them respect and honor their memory.  We are also given a very specific prescription on how to comfort those directly impacted.  Why?  Many religions focus their belief system on or around death – which is not the Jewish way.  We are warned in Vayikra (Leviticus) explicitly not to imitate the ways, practices and customs of the other nations, specifically, the Egyptians and Canaanites.  Even though these ancient religions are long extinct, there are various modern day occult practices which emulates their ways trying to communicate with the deceased through amulets, trinkets or rituals.  The Jewish faith has our own customs, and believe it or not, our own approved supernatural practices.  Every time we recite a Bracha (blessing), learn a tractate of Torah, perform an act of kindness – especially tzedakah (charity), remember the departed for the good they made in this world, forces we cannot see, touch, smell, taste or hear intervene on our behalf in Shamayim (heaven) and are remembered by Hashem on the Final Day of Judgement.  However, our focus and attention should be this world and the living.

But is speaking with the dead possible?  As with most aspects of our religion, the answer is ambiguous and not straightforward.  On one hand, Maimonides states this is not possible and is a waste of time to try.  Correctly, he said all our energy should focus on Hashem and serving him without distraction.  Conversely, the Ramban said it is possible and very dangerous.  However, both draw the same conclusion using the Torah as their guide.  Using witchcraft or occult practices to usurp the natural order is strictly forbidden (Leviticus 19 and 20, Deuteronomy 18).  Even if communication with the dead is possible, it cannot yield any positive results.  One of the most fascinating and bizarre instances in the entire Tanach (Hebrew Bible) which mentions the supernatural involves King Saul, the deceased prophet Samuel’s “ghost” and a shadowy witch from the Village of Endor.  After Samuel dies and is buried, King Saul is left without a Navi (prophet) and desperately seeks divine council because the Philistine army has assembled a massive force against Israel and the King is not sure how to proceed (1 Samuel 28).  Foolishly, King Saul found a reluctant sorcerer who conjured the deceased prophet’s spirit through necromancy (magic or witchcraft), which is punishable by death (Exodus 22).    After Samuel’s spirit is temporarily revived, it is very clear King Saul made a grave mistake.  The prophet was furious his rest was interrupted, and he berated the King for going against the Torah.  In his final prophecy, Samuel told the King he along with all his sons would die the next day in battle and Israel would be conquered.  Indeed, this is what transpired.  There is much debate if this story is literal, figurative, made up by the witch or Hashem performed a miracle which allowed this to occur, but it is quite clear the outcome was disastrous.

Given we know how horrifying the consequences may be, why do Jews recite Tehillim (Psalms) at the cemetery and ask Tzadikeem (holy individuals) who have passed to elevate our prayers?  Why is this not a forbidden act?  Our sages point out enormous distinctions between this form of communication with the deceased and King Saul’s.  First, when we engage in this behavior, we are not expecting a response from the deceased – only their assistance in elevating our tephilot (prayers) to Hashem.  Second, we are not expecting information about the future or wanting divine guidance like King Saul.  Our concentration in this regard usually revolves around teshuvah (loosely translated as repentance) or other spiritual matters while not asking for anything in return.  Third, we are trying to form a closer tie to Hashem through immersing this world with the world to come.  At no point are we trying to circumvent the natural order.  Jewish tradition teaches a portion of our Neshama (soul) remains where we are buried, and seeking a physical connection from those who have departed is natural and holy, provided our spiritual energy is channeled correctly.

However, an important two-part question arises.  Do the departed know what is happening in this world or care?  Instinctively, we would like to believe so.  However, this might be nothing more than wishful thinking and a psychological coping tactic for us who in Olam HaZeh (this world) to feel better while not necessarily based on Torah teachings.  As stated earlier, answers are not concrete, and various verses seem to contradict each other on the surface.  The Talmud goes into this topic extensively, but there are three examples in the Tanach specifically I would like to examine.  In Sefer Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), we are told “the dead know nothing.”  If looking at a cursory reading of the verse, the answer is a resounding no – the dead do not know what is happening.  However, there are many ways to interpret this passage, and a literal reading may or may not be correct.  For example, after Satan told Avraham’s wife Sarah her son Yitzhak (Issac) was taken to a mountain as a sacrifice, she was overcome with so much grief, she died instantly.  The very next Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, means “The Life of Sarah,” even though it describes her death.  The Parsha’s (Torah portion read each week in Synagogue) opening verse says, “The life of Sarah was one hundred years, twenty years and seven years; these were the years of Sarah’s life.”  If we are to interpret Ecclesiastes literally, it should say Sarah died at the age of 127, but it does not.  A possible message here is even in death, a righteous person especially, never truly dies.  Indeed, if this is correct, a vested interest in this world would be a given.  Conversely, even though a wicked person might be alive physically, it is as if their Neshama (soul) is dead.  A third instance I would like to highlight is our matriarch Rachel – who died while giving birth to Benjamin at the age of 36.  Instead of being buried with the other patriarchs and matriarchs in Hebron, she was buried on the side of the road in Bethlehem.  How could it be the “Mother of the Jewish People” was given a seemingly casual, halfhearted and lackadaisical burial on the side of the road with significantly less sacredness?  In Sefer Yirmiyahu (Jeremiah) we are given the answer.  After the destruction of the first Temple by the Babylonians in 586 B.C., Nebuzaradan, one of the most senior, high-ranking officers under the abhorrent King Nebuchadnezzar, led the Jewish people into exile.  As the Jews were forcibly removed from their land, the road taken marched next to Rachel’s grave.  The prophet says, “A voice is heard on high, lamentation, bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children, she refuses to be comforted for her children for they are not (Jeremiah 31:15).”  In the next two verses, Hashem tells her she need not cry because her children will one day return to the land of Israel delivered from the enemy.  Ultimately, the answer is not conclusive either way.

Even if the dead do have clairvoyance into the world of the living, do they care about Earthly matters?  Before giving insight into this question, it is prudent we look at this topic from a spiritual 360-degree point of view lens rather than what would like to believe.  Our soul wants nothing more than to be with Hashem.  Even though Judaism is a religion centered around life, we recognize everyone will eventually depart this world.  When Moshe himself asked to see Hashem, he was told no one may see me and live (Exodus 33).  However, in death, we are privileged to see the true vision of the divine.  In fact, this is one of the reasons the eye lids of a deceased individual are immediately shut.  Eyes which have perceived the glory of heaven should not be exposed to the austerity of this world.  Ultimately, being with the creator is what our Neshama desires.

Even though I cannot give concrete answers, I propose they are not relevant.  Hashem gave the Torah to the living – not the dead.  While remembering those who have departed is absolutely a good thing, we cannot dwell or concern ourselves with what the departed may or may not think or may or may not approve.  We have our own lives to live in this world, and when our time to pass on the next world does come, Hashem’s plan will come into full clarity.

About the Author
Joe Reiser has a B.S. in Education from Northern Illinois University as well as a M.S. in Computer Information Systems Management from Northwestern University. He taught in Chicago Public Schools for three years before transitioning to IT.
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