About Chevra Kadisha
Taharah is a centuries-old Jewish ritual for caring for the dead. Echoing the burial of Moses as described in the Bible, taharah emphasizes the purification of the soul and expedient, simple burial into the earth. It is a practice developed in the early first century CE, a time when the wealthy held lavish funerals while the poor, in embarrassment, felt their only recourse was to abandon their dead. Rabbi Gamliel, a greatly revered scholar of the time, was dismayed by the situation and declared that, as everyone is equal in death, funerals must reflect our common humanity.
A Chevra Kadisha (translated as “Holy Community”), is a community of individuals who perform various tasks in service to those who are ill or who have died, and their families. The Chevra provides meals, visits the sick, and will also arrange funerals. They work with the funeral home and the cemetery, organize the synagogue rituals, organize shiva (the week of mourning after a death) and provide food and comfort for the family. Certain members of the Chevra Kadisha will perform taharah. This is the ritual washing, purifying, and dressing of the deceased in plain linen garments in preparation for a funeral. There is a women’s taharah group and a men’s, in order to respect the modesty of the deceased. The liturgy of taharah guides the team as well as the soul of the deceased. At taharah’s conclusion the body is prepared for the earth while the soul is freed to continue its journey. As members of the taharah team we are deeply aware of the dual presence of body and soul, and every action is carefully performed with particular attention to respecting both.
I had never heard of Chevra Kadisha until attending a Yom Kippur service in 2001. Taharah had fallen out of practice in America, and almost all but the Orthodox Jews were unaware of it. So when our rabbi announced the need to re-establish the tradition in our Berkeley, California congregation I was intrigued. I attended the annual meetings of the Chevra Kadisha, but did not perform a taharah until 2003. Around this time, a dear friend of mine was dying, and she asked me to be on the team of women that would be attending to her. Not only was this my first taharah, but it was also my first encounter with a dead body. Engaging so intimately with the stark physicality of death and staying open to the intangible realm of spirit while working in a cold and clinical mortuary was confusing. But when the three full buckets of cold water were poured over the cleansed body I felt the power of ritual to connect me to life, death and the realm of our souls.
What follows the dousing is a careful dressing in simple linen garments and a shroud. When the body is lowered into a casket and its lid closed, we ask for forgiveness for any indignities we may have accidentally committed and we escort the metah, the deceased, out of the workroom to a place of quiet meditation where she will not be left alone until the time of her funeral. It is at this point that the team gathers, away from the metah, and we are free to discuss any issues that may have arisen and to express our gratitude for the opportunity to perform this mitzvah, this deed of lovingkindness, which supports both the living and the dead.