The High Cost of Dying

The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles recently published an interesting article about the high cost of dying. The following excerpt is relevant to Chesed Shel Emes.

For the indigent, the Jewish Community Burial Program, offered through Jewish Family Service of Los Angeles, provides a traditional Jewish burial at no cost... (The toll-free contact number is (887) 275-4537.)

"No one should have to make an un-Jewish and undignified choice because of cost," Funeral Practices Committee chair Hyman said.

Additionally, some cemeteries, including Hillside and Mount Sinai, do not charge for the burial of a child. "The family has enough tzuris (trouble). They don't need any more," Mount Sinai's Lawrence said.

My question is, does anyone know of any New York area cemeteries that don't charge for the burial of a child?

Once You Pop You Can't Stop Redux

I just watched a short online video by Rabbi Yaakov Salomon about the designer of the Pringles Can being cremated and having his ashes placed in an empty can (click here to watch). I wrote about this last month (see here) and was happy to see Rabbi Salomon discuss this as well. (Full disclosure - Rabbi Salomon is my wife's uncle).

Rabbi Salomon argues that while someone's last wishes are important, they shouldn't always be followed. He tells the story of a league of bowlers, who on their graves it is written, "they lived to bowl." This isn't a fitting way to be remembered.

So I ask you, what would your last request be? Would your last wish be something profound, like Randy Pausch's, who wanted to insure his children would remember him, and learn from him, while he is gone. That sounds a lot better than a pringles can or a bowling bowl.

The Last Lecture

I was inspired by Randy Pausch. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Dr. Pausch was a professor at Carnegie Mellon University who passed away last week from Pancreatic Cancer. Dr. Pausch's story became an international phenomenon after he gave his "Last Lecture" this past September, with the knowledge that he would be dead by now. The lecture has been seen by millions online, translated into different languages, and inspired a best-selling book.

What makes Dr. Pausch's story amazing is that even when he was staring death in the face, he lived his life to the fullest. He loved his life and loved living it. He loved his wife, his kids, his students, his profession. He loved the gifts that were given to him.

He was lucky. Many are not.

He was given the opportunity to package a legacy to leave for his children. Through his lecture and book, he has left a personal manifesto for them. He had the time to prepare personal letters and videos for each of them. To take them on vacations and to leave them with memories. He had the time, and the knowledge that it was being taken away from him.

We all know that life is a gift. When we wake up in the morning, the first words out of our mouth's are Modeh Ani, thanking Hashem for returning our souls to our bodies for another day on His great earth. However, we don't always live with the constant realization that our time is precious. We go about our day-to-day lives. We make life routine.

The message from Randy Pausch is to live life to its fullest. Take advantage of every day. We should take the time to commit our thoughts about life to writing or video for future generations. We should build a legacy of words that are a reflection of our actions.

When Dr. Paucsh gave his lecture, it was in front of 400 people. His real target audience was a group of 3, his children. His reach has extended to millions around the world, regardless of faith, age, race, or sex. That is a true legacy for his children. We should learn from him, and be inspired to improve our own lives.

The Last Lecture
The Last Lecture (Amazon.com)

Reinterment

Hirhurim Musings recently posted a write up of the laws of disinterring a body. On occasion, HFBA has dealt with disinterment requests, and while each case is addressed on its own merits, the Hirhurim article is a solid overview of the topic. Click here to view it.

Standing By Myself With Thousands By My Side

On Sunday June 30, I officiated at a funeral. And like all of the other funerals where I've officiated, I was alone with the grave diggers. And once the grave was filled in, and the diggers left, it was just me. While this is tragic, I had a tremendous realization at that exact moment, that I wasn't alone at all.

G-d was standing with me, giving me the strength to assist Him in escorting the deceased to the Next World. This person's deceased relatives were with me, welcoming their loved one. All the deceased at Mount Richmond Cemetery were there as well, in a special section of the next world, for those who suffered in this world. All the recipients of Meis Mitzvah were there as well.

When we perform a mitzvah, we're partnering with G-d. Our doing G-d's will is a manifestation of G-d's greatness in this world. And when a mitzvah is performed, those connected with it show up for the occasion, physically or meta-physically. They want to partner in glorifying G-d's name.

It's been said before but it bears repeating. When a person is buried by the Hebrew Free Burial Association, that person had to have some special merits to ensure they were taken care of. When someone dies, it is only through the good fortune of having an experienced social work, a compassionate landlord, a perceptive public administrator, that people come to us. So when a person is lowered into the ground in this world, the next world pays attention. "Who is this special person?" "I want to escort them as well."

So while I was standing by myself, I was standing with thousands, and more importantly, with G-d, performing his work. To paraphrase Pirkei Avos, "if not HFBA, then who?"

It Would Be Even Sadder...

In 1996, the NY Times wrote a profile about Rabbi Shmuel Plafker, the Cemetery Chaplain of the Hebrew Free Burial Association.

As he shoveled dirt onto the coffin, the rabbi [Rabbi Plafker] philosophized about his job. "This might be sad," he said, "but it would be even sadder if she had been sent to the potter's field."

This one line sums up the mission of HFBA. Our cases are tragic. Yet, something is right. Somewhere, our clients had a merit that ensured that they received a proper Jewish burial.

(To read the complete NY Times article, please click here)

Once You Pop You Can't Stop

Growing up, there was a great commercial for Pringles with the catchphrase, "Once you pop, you can't stop." The expression referred to popping open a can of Pringles. Unlike traditional potato chips, which were bag packaged, Pringles were dispensed in a cool can. I never gave thought to the Pringles Can until earlier this month when I saw the headline, The Man Buried in a Pringles Can.

Fredric Baur, the creator of the Pringles Can, wished for his ashes to be placed in a Pringles Can upon his death. As written in the aforementioned article

...when Frederic Baur died after a battle with Alzheimer's, Larry [his son] and his siblings stopped at Walgreen's for a burial can of Pringles on their way to the funeral home. "My siblings and I briefly debated what flavor to use," Baur says, "but I said, 'Look, we need to use the original.

Ignoring the Jewish view of cremation for a moment (for the record; against), we've become a society that belittles death and deceased. Solemn funerals are old fashioned. The trend now is for a custom casket, preferably one emblazoned with the deceased's favorite team's logo. Or a casket that when opened plays music from the deceased's favorite band. Or a can of Pringles (preferably Original Flavor).

A discussion needs to start about proper burial rites. Last week, I attended a Volunteer Conference for Baby Boomers. An elderly non-Jewish person came up to me and said,

When I die, I want a Jewish funeral. There's so much extra today that's ridiculous, and expensive. I just want a plain box and a plain service.

I'm not advocating Jewish burials for everyone, but I think people need to stop and recognize the waste in today's funeral market, as well as recognizing that despite the deceased's request, a Pringles Can is not a proper final resting place.