Rabbi Michael L. Kramer
Irving was in hospice surrounded by his friends and family. As he was lying there, he noticed that his wife had baked his favorite apple cake sitting on the table. He called over his daughter to his side and asked her, “Honey, could you please get me a slice of that delicious cake that I love.” The daughter went to the table, came back, and said to Irving, “I’m sorry. Mommy, says it’s for the funeral.”
Olam-ha-ba (i.e., the world-to-come). I don’t know, and I hope I don’t find out for a while. In their book, What Happens After I Die?, Rifat Sonsino and Danny Syme offer many different concepts of life after death from both traditional and contemporary points of view.
There is a great range of Jewish thoughts and theories. There are those who believe that life ends after we die. Freud believed that a future life was an “illusion.” Freud viewed belief in an afterlife as childish and according to the two authors, “a way of retreating from this world into a world of myth and fantasy.”
The Torah, while not definitive in its views, talks about Sheol, a place where the dead reside, but it is not dogmatic about it. The prophet Ezekiel in his chapter about the Valley of the Dry Bones draws a powerful picture of the Jewish community resurrected, and there are a few brief references about resurrection, including in Daniel, that hint at a later view into a future life.
This belief in resurrection made its way into early rabbinic view of the olam ha-ba. Good people, when they died, would enter Gan Eden (heaven) and those who transgressed would go to Gehinna (hell). We find the concept of resurrection entering into modern times. There are references to resurrection in our prayers (m’hayei meitim), though it was largely rejected by early Reform Jewish thinkers.
Today, a common view of life after death is that we live through the deeds we have done through our lives. Quoting Rabbi Bernard Raskas, Sonsino and Syme write: “I believe that a person lives on in his or her family . . . I believe there is a form of immortality in the institutions we build and the causes we espouse . . . I believe in the immortality of friendship and helpfulness.”
My father, a rabbi and my mentor, told a story about a man who had died and was taken to the afterlife where there were two rooms. In both rooms people were sitting at giant tables where they were served a feast. In one room each person had a giant spoon. They struggled to feed themselves and were extremely frustrated because they weren’t able to reach their mouths. In the other room they also were given enormous spoons. However, in this room they were satisfied because each person was able to feed the person across the table. My father taught that one was a picture of heaven, and one was a picture of hell. Our heaven and hell on earth are determined by how thoughtless and selfish we are or how caring and helpful we can be to others. Heaven and hell are in this life, and it is our responsibility to do good.
Whether or not it agrees with my view that heaven and hell are in this life, I believe it is my responsibility as a rabbi is to give comfort and support to those in mourning whatever their beliefs in afterlife, and that is what I try to achieve.
