CHAYEY SARAH 5782

One of the hardest things a rabbi does is writing a eulogy. You don’t have much time to think about it or prepare for it. And not everyone’s life is that interesting or fulfilling. You speak to people when they’re most vulnerable and you don’t want to exaggerate to the point that people won’t believe you.

I remember as a young rabbi doing a funeral for someone I didn’t know. The family told me all sorts of things about the deceased that I repeated in my eulogy. Halfway into the eulogy, the people listening started laughing, especially when I reviewed how wonderful he was! I was so embarrassed. Now I’ve learned to use my listening skills when I speak to the family to hear not only what they say, but what is not said. So, most of the time I try to make the deceased sound good, even if they didn’t always look good.

Delivering a eulogy is one of the things Father Abraham iroduced to the world. Last week, we read about the Akeda, the Binding of Isaac—when Isaac was almost slaughtered on the altar by his father Abraham. In this week’s Torah portion, when Sarah heard about this, she died. The Torah (Gen. 23:2) then tells us, Abraham came lispod l’Sara v’livkota (to eulogize Sarah and to cry for her). From these words the Shulchan Aruch Code of Jewish Law (Yoreh Deyah 344:1) learns: Mitzvah g’dola l’haspid al hameyt (It is a great mitzvah to eulogize the dead).

Tradition tells us that ideally—like with Abraham eulogizing Sarah—the eulogy should be given by a member of the family. Then tradition tells us that, like Abraham, livkota, a eulogy should make people cry. The truth of the matter is, we don’t follow either of these things.

Usually today, when a member of a family rises to speak at a funeral, you can sense people saying to themselves, “Oh no, it’s going to be so long. It’s not necessary. I can read this tribute online on the Dressler Funeral Home’s website.” Let me ask you, if a person lives 80, 90, 98 years…is she not entitled to 10 or 15 minutes of grandchildren, children and friends speaking about her? What’s the rush? We’re never going to do this again for her.

The truth is, today we don’t deliver long eulogies and we don’t deliver eulogies that evoke tears. Why? Too often, when a person lives so long—and the last years are so difficult—there’s already been enough crying. In some ways the family has already sat shiva. But the reality is that when a person passes away, they should be eulogized anyway.

Not like the R. Bernard Funeral Home in Memphis, Tenn. In response to the Covid pandemic, this funeral home is now offering families a safe way to say goodbye without having to leave your car. Just simply drive into a long carport, stop by a large window, and view the open casket on the other side. Each car is allotted 3 minutes to say their goodbyes. Owner Ryan Bernard said he’s seen his business increase 50% since the pandemic. For us, however, the Code of Jewish Law is clear: Mitzvah g’dola l’haspid al hameyt (It is a great mitzvah to eulogize the dead) 

The question is, when we deliver a eulogy, who is it for? There’s a debate in Jewish tradition about whether a eulogy is delivered to honor the living or is it delivered to honor the dead? We believe that after death, the soul of the deceased hovers over the body and cannot begin its return to the World of the Souls, to Gd, until the body is returned to its source, mother earth. Talk to a member of the Cheva Kadisha that prepares a Jewish body for burial, and they’ll tell you they can sense its presence of the soul while they prepare a body.

This has many implications for in Jewish law—from simple respect, to not being allowed to do things in the presence of a body and soul that it can no longer do like eating, or amazingly enough, learning Torah. Also, the eulogy must be presented in a manner that recognizes that the deceased is listening. What should we say in a eulogy?

 I read of a minister—Reverend Scott Mansfield of New Mexico—who, when he delivered a eulogy, did something every rabbi, priest and minister has wanted to do at some time in their lives. He told the truth—the whole truth and nothing but the truth! He got up and gave a eulogy that will long be remembered. He related how this person was so difficult, a rough, unfriendly, gruff, simply put—a rotten old man!

And you know what happened? The family sued him! All because he said in his eulogy: the deceased was “living in sin,” “lukewarm in his faith,” and that “the Lrd vomited people like Ben out of His mouth to hell!”

So, if you’re a rabbi and you hear that you can get sued for telling the truth, is it ok for you to stretch the truth a little bit? Jewish law says you most certainly can and should. The Shulchan Aruch Code of Jewish Law continues: [when you say a eulogy] Mazkirin midot tovot shebo (Make mention of the person’s good attributes), try and focus on the good. And then come these important words: Umosifin bahem k’tzat, rak shelo yaflig (and you can exaggerate a little bit but don’t go overboard). That’s quite a statement! You don’t have to tell the whole truth; you can stretch the truth a little bit. I have a feeling every rabbi, minister or priest has done that at some point in his career.

As for me my friends, you can feel assured, I don’t remember a eulogy where I ever said a bad word about the deceased. If the family tells me he was “stubborn and crotchety,” I would say he was “strong-willed and determined.” If the family tells me that she “acted like a witch,” I would say she was “superhuman.”

Once a member of the congregation asked me, “You know rabbi, I listen to what you say about people when we honor them or at a eulogy. You say, ‘This one was so great and that one was so great.’ Come on rabbi, you know what they were really like.”

         And I said to him, “I know, but you don’t have to worry. When the time comes, I’ll lie about you too!”

I say to all of you, if I’m still around when the time comes, I’ll tell the truth. But, if necessary, I’ll stretch it to bring out your better side. However, what I will say still depends on you and what you do with your life. But let me tell you this, the eulogy doesn’t last. In a few months or less it’s forgotten. You know what does last? The words that are written on the tombstone. And if you look at tombstones, you’ll see that none of them make mention of someone as being famous, or well-known, or powerful or even charitable. It says things like he was a “loving husband, devoted father, loving grandfather, good friend, she brought light wherever she went.” That’s the way we’re really going to be remembered. So, when you think about it, I don’t write the eulogy, you do! No rush, but let me suggest you start thinking about it now. Amen!