Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

The Talmud says that anyone who sleeps in a cemetery may be certifiably crazy. On the other hand, sometimes a visit to a cemetery can produce some interesting and unexpected changes in the lives of the visitors.

If you had to summarize your earthly journey in one pithy remark, what would you say? A classical medieval work, “Reshit Chochmah,” explores this question through a true story that took place in the anonymous author’s time.

Once there was a low-life who became infatuated with a beautiful woman. He used to fantasize about her in his dreams. Each day, he flirted with her, telling her how much he wanted to “get to know” her better. She ignored his overtures. One day, when he asked her out again, she told him to go to the cemetery—there, they would meet. Little did he realize the girl’s real message, namely—“Drop dead!”

Feeling jubilant about the prospects of romancing her, he went to the cemetery and waited. But she did not come. The hours had turned into days, but still, she did not arrive. As he began wandering from grave to grave, he saw how others had distinguished their lives by performing good deeds for the betterment of their communities.

He began wondering, “How will others remember me?” Then he decided that he too wanted to live a life that would earn him the respect and admiration from others. He began working on his character, and eventually became known for his piety—despite himself. [1]

We live in a death denying culture. Human civilization has loved telling stories about individuals who have “cheated death” and lived to talk about it. Yet, coming to grips with our mortality can help us live our lives with greater gusto and spiritual meaning. Accepting our mortality need not induce a sense of hopelessness or despair, but can serve to awaken us to the grandeur of truly living.

Each person’s epithet bears witness to the kind of life one has lived. When you visit your parents’ grave, or a spouse’s grave, often you see statements on the tombstone about their love—a love that not even death itself can conquer. That is why being buried in a Jewish cemetery may seem, superficially, rather quaint, but in reality, it binds you with your ancestors. It is also a place where your loved ones can come and visit and pour their hearts to you and God.

Modern man tends to view himself more as individual, than as a member of a community. Non-traditional forms of burial tend to isolate the individual, cutting that person off from the community and family.

Whenever I visit a cemetery, I like to walk by the graves and see the kind of people who are buried there; sometimes you will see a picture of a person from their youth; the epithets on the grave are even more remarkable, for in but a few short and pithy words, you have a statement that encapsulates the individual’s life. Epithets convey an important message to the living as well. President Harry S. Truman once said, “I always remember an epitaph which is in the cemetery at Tombstone, Arizona. It says: ‘Here lies Jack Williams. He done his damnedest.’ I think that is the greatest epitaph a man can have.”

A Jewish cemetery provides an important place for your children and friends to come and visit you. The soil of the grave is considered sacred ground in nearly all civilizations around the world—and for good reason—it is a place where you can honor your loved ones; it is ultimately the place where others will someday hopefully honor and remember you. Some of the ancients believe that the greatest immortality one can receive is when others remember you for the person you were.

In any event, the Jewish cemetery is a holy place because it preserves a memory of the people who have gone on to the world of Eternity. It is also reminds us that our time is limited in this world and we need to make the most of our lives, before we make our journey back for a homecoming with our pre-deceased families and friends. Continue Reading