The Gift of Giving

I try very hard never to pass on the opportunity to help someone or perform a mitzvah. The chance to do something good for others, in my opinion, is a gift that should never be wasted.

In Jewish thought, the word mitzvah has many nuanced meanings. It can refer to the 613 prescribed mitzvahs from the Torah, which includes the Ten Commandments and the other 513 important commandments.

It also can mean acts of charity or kindness that people do in a civilized society to help others and make the world a better place.

And so I found myself in just such a situation this week. One of our closest family friends, plural because they’re a couple, lives in Albuquerque, NM, where they work in a non-profit and as a hospice nurse, respectively.

Hospice work is a very special kind of mitzvah all to itself, supporting and caring for people on their last journey. One of my friends, the nurse’s partner, sent me a text that was a bit cryptic: “Do you know if there are any groups that support Holocaust survivors?”

My response was this: “In what capacity? Honestly, there aren’t very many survivors left.”

My friend’s wife, the nurse, had just such a survivor as a patient. She has no living relatives, and to manage her estate, she had turned over power of attorney to a neighbor. As she was approaching her death, the hospice reached out to the neighbor to learn what the plans for her funeral and burial would be. My friend was told that they would like her to be cremated and have her ashes scattered somewhere. Thank goodness, my friend immediately called her partner to ask her to call their favorite Jewish person to find out if this was “OK.”

NO, Not OK

Not ok on several levels. First of all, observant Jews, and in this case, I suspect the term “observant” applies pretty far down the spectrum of possible levels of observance. Meaning that Jewish people who are Reform or on the liberal side of Conservative Judaism are probably more likely not to want to be cremated than they are too inclined to light Shabbat candles.

Ideally, when Jews die, we are not embalmed, there is no autopsy, and we go into the ground as soon as possible in nothing but a shroud. These days in the US, that’s typically not allowed, so we do plain a casket as possible, no metal nails, nothing in the grave that won’t decompose.

There’s a process involved that includes washing the body and wrapping it in the shroud. This process is considered one of the greatest mitzvahs a person can do because it is the one kind of deed that cannot be repaid. The time between death and burial is often 24–48 hours. During that time, people are with the body at all times. The point is to care for the body in the 24 hours or so between death and burial to comfort the person’s soul and ease them to the next world.

SO NOT OK

During the Holocaust, millions of our people were killed and processed like some human garbage. The Nazis industrialized murder and did so in a way that dehumanized the victims, from the time they entered the camps to the time thee incinerated in ovens, their bones pulverized, and their remains dumped in pits — the very antithesis of respect and Jewish practice.

With this in mind, the idea that a woman who survived one attempt to incinerate her by organized murderers should not have it happen to her now, on direction from people who care about her. However innocent the intentions are.

The bottom line is that you can’t cremate Jewish Holocaust survivors. You just can’t.

Some Goodness

I was on a work call when I got the texts. Without thinking, I excused myself from the meeting and quickly started researching. Most biggish cities have a Jewish Federation. Albuquerque, how, does not. From what I could gather, the Federation there folded a few years ago for reasons that… I’ll leave that alone, not germane to the story. I also don’t want to be the source of misinformation about a situation that I know nothing about.

If there is no Federation to call, what’s next? A synagogue? There are a few options in Albuquerque: Reform, Conservative, and Chabad. I am involved with the local Chabad here in St. Paul. That’s probably another blog about a kid who grew up in a Reform Shul in Stockton, where the choices were Reform or… Reform or go to a church.

The bottom line is that Chabad rabbis are passionate about serving the Jewish people spiritually and culturally. After a quick chat with my Rabbi, I called the number on the website, and, as expected, the Rabbi himself answered the phone.

I introduced myself and got right to the issue. As it turned out, the Rabbi was aware of the problem, but he couldn’t get permission to visit the patient or enter the facility. I put him in touch with my friend, the patient’s nurse.

It took 10 minutes for me to get the following message:

I owe you lunch or liquor or whatever you want. The Rabbi just called. He is amazing, and we’re doing what’s right for the patient thanks to you.

Wow, but I’m not surprised.

Followed a few minutes later with:

He was super nice. He reached out to the neighbor. I spoke to the Neighbor this afternoon, and he was in tears when I talked to him. He said he didn’t know how important burial was, and was so thankful for the rabbi. He is meeting the rabbi in person Tomorrow afternoon, and I’m gonna follow up with both of them afterward. Seriously, today made me want to cry and become Jewish. Just amazing what you all are doing.

For the record, “We” aren’t doing anything.
And the coup de gras:

Seriously, today made me want to cry and become Jewish. Just amazing what you all are doing.

And finally, today:

Just a quick update. Our survivor passed away this morning. I spoke to the Rabbi, and it sounds like they have everything in place for her to be flown to New York. The Rabbi said they want to give her the highest honors, and that would be going to New York. If the power of attorney agrees otherwise they will bury her here.

I’m going to call this a good day’s mitzvah with the following caveat: it’s all Chabad in this case. All I did was make a call. Now, my old boss at Target tells me all the time — we’re still in touch — that the one (and there really is only one) thing I do well is connect people. I seem to know whom to call, who can help who, who might like to know who, all that good stuff.

I’m just glad I had an opportunity to do something right for someone.