Birth or Death? A Reflection for Parashat Chayei Sarah, Friday 6 November 2015

One of the most interesting aspects of moving about during one’s lifetime, of living in various countries, is the opportunity to see and experience the different customs.  And sometimes, seeing and experiencing the different levels of importance that are attached to specific customs.  And trying to understand it all.

          Take birthdays.  When I was a child, I looked forward to birthdays.  What child wouldn’t?  You get presents, and get to invite your friends to a party.  Where you, the child, are the centre of attention.  It’s all about you.  To a five or ten-year-old, that is a powerful feeling.

          With the reaching of the age of 13 – at least in Jewish circles – the birthday party is replaced by something far more meaningful.  Bar Mitzvah.  Now Bar Mitzvah does sometimes seem like a birthday on steroids.  Instead of being the centre of attention for his immediate family and friends, the child is now the centre of attention for the entire extended family and not only other children, but even all the adults in the congregation.  If that isn’t powerful, I don’t know what is!

          In my memory, the whole birthday thing pretty much became irrelevant after my Bar Mitzvah.  I remember no parties.  I do remember milestones.  Like, once past my 15^th birthday, I could get my restricted driving license according to Florida law.  So I did.  And once past my 16^th birthday, I could get an un-restricted license.  So I did.  And from my 18^th birthday, I could legally drink alcohol.  So I did.  And could register to vote, so I did.  And was required to register for Selective Service, so I did.  But there were no more parties, no more ‘big deals.’  Perhaps my mother may have prepared a favourite dinner to treat me on my birthday.  Or maybe the family went out to a favourite restaurant.  But parties and excessive celebration wee for children. 

As for my parents, one parent would remind me that the other parent’s birthday was approaching, so I would go out and buy a card, or produce one myself.  And perhaps buy a gift.  A small gift.  But birthdays were never big occasions.  I guess 55 was something.  I could join the AARP – American Association of Retired Persons – and use my membership card to get discounts for hotels and restaurants.  So I did.  But then I gave up my membership in the AARP because of their gushing endorsement of Obama Care.  Given the train wreck that that Obama Care has been – which was of course predicted by many astute analysts who were dismissed at the time as Republican shills – I feel vindicated.

          As an adult, I’ve had friends who made a bigger deal of birthdays.  But not such a big deal.  In other countries where I’ve lived, things seemed pretty much the same.  Birthdays are, by and large, for children.

Here in Australia, it seems that birthdays for adults are a much bigger deal than in other countries where I’ve lived.  I’m not going to speculate on why that’s so.  It’s just an interesting difference in life Down Under.  For example, a friend here celebrated her 40^th birthday with a big party in an event venue, including a catered meal and a karaoke show.  And that friend is someone who complains about constantly struggling financially.  I attended the party – and, in case she happens to be reading this, I enjoyed it! – but the idea of having such a party under the circumstances remains a mystery to me.

Here, it is common to even celebrate the birthdays of those who are no longer with us.  In a sense, I get it.  If Dad’s birthday was an important annual family occasion when he was alive, keeping track of its annual occurrence and celebrating it even after Dad is gone, is a way to keep alive the fondest memories.  I’ve seen friends drink a toast to a departed parent, or some such activity, on their birthday.  But in the Jewish world generally, the more prevalent custom is to use the person’s yahrzeit as an occasion for keeping memories alive.

Of course, the word yahrzeit means nothing more than ‘anniversary.’  But as a code word in Jewish life, it means the anniversary of someone’s death.

In civil life we keep alive the memories of notable historical figures by declaring a holiday on their birthday.  In America, for example, we celebrate the birthdays of Washington, Lincoln, and Martin Luther King, Junior.  And then for others, we have no ‘official’ holiday on their birthdays, but we do note their annual occurrence.   But in Jewish life, we tend to celebrate the achievement of notables by marking their yahrzeits.  Perhaps you’ve seen video of the hubbub over Rabbi Nahman’s yahrzeit in Uman.  Or the fuss over Reb Schneerson’s in Brooklyn.

A gentile colleague once asked me about this difference of custom.  I told him that the point of remembering someone’s yahrzeit as opposed to their birthday, is not that Jews are obsessed with death.  Rather, that we commemorate one’s death because that’s the date when their life ended, and in doing so we are making a statement.  We are acknowledging the totality of what their life was.  Every day between their birth and death added to create their life.  It’s not that I think our non-Jewish neighbours miss this point.  It’s just that Jewish life may be more pregnant with symbology.  In any case, that’s what we do.  When we go through the process of burying and mourning the dead, we are in effect taking a ‘time out’ to contemplate the totality of what that person was.  And will eternally be.

So this Shabbat, we read from Parashat Chayei Sarah.  Which means ‘the life of Sarah.’  But the portion begins with the death of Sarah.  And proceeds to Abraham’s efforts to procure for his wife’s remains, an eternal resting place.  And his mourning of her.  Because all of that serves to point to the totality that was her life.  In honouring his departed wife’s memory by seeing to the details of her death, Abraham models for us the importance of ‘going through the motions’ because it helps clear the deck for the real business of internalising the memories.

When we honour the departed by noting the anniversary of their passing, we accomplish an important goal:  the goal of memory.  Of course, we remember our departed loved ones at other times.  Any occasion can evoke such memories.  I can’t tell you how many seemingly-random events have reminded me of the loss of my father.  Or my grandparents.  Including birthdays.  But when we note their yahrzeit, and allow the community to share the occasion with us, we are making an important statement about the value of one’s life.  And the important way that each person touches so many of those around him or her.  Which is surely what Abraham had in mind when he engaged in the activities chronicled by this week’s Torah reading.  Shabbat shalom.