"...and Joseph's hand shall close your eyes." (Genesis 46:4)
As the note in Etz Hayim indicates, this is "a reference to the custom that the eldest son or nearest relative would gently close the eyes of the deceased." Those of us who have never witnessed a person dying may presume, as Hollywood until recently has led us to believe, that all people die with their eyes closed, but that is not true. In fact, Jewish law specifically forbids anyone from closing the eyes of the deceased until it is absolutely clear that the person has indeed died (determined until modern times by cessation of breath and heartbeat), for our ancestors feared that closing the person's eyes would hasten his or her death. Once the person has died, however, the first act of kindness (hesed) that relatives perform for the deceased is exactly what the Torah describes here - namely, closing the eyes of the deceased (S.A. Yoreh De'ah 339:1).
All of the rituals following death are based on the value of kevod ha-met, honoring the dead person. We retain a sense of modesty after death, and so men deal with a male body and women with a female body. The people attending the body, the hevra kaddisha, "the holy group," wash the body first for purposes of hygiene and then ritually, and they then clothe the body in shrouds. Someone (called a shomer, a guardian) stays with the body overnight, for we do not abandon the person even in death. Because the body disintegrates rapidly after death, the body is buried as soon after death as possible and in a closed casket (or, in Israel, in the shrouds covering the deceased fully). After burial, the seven-day period of mourning (shiva) begins, in which friends and family of the deceased and the community as a whole create a minyan for morning and evening services in their home, attend to their practical needs, and help the immediate relatives voice memories of the deceased, which is the psychological work of mourning. All of this is how the Jewish tradition has us express honor for the dead person.
In contemporary times, for a variety of reasons, many people are electing to cremate their dead relatives rather than bury them. For most, it is a matter of money. Although prices for both burial and cremation vary widely by region, a recent New York Times article (Kevin Sack, "In Tough Times, a Boom in Cremations as a Way to Save Money," December 8, 2011) quotes a price of $1,600 for a cremation that included "a death notice, a death certificate, and an urn bought online," in contrast to "the $10,000 to $16,000 that is typically spent on a traditional funeral and burial." This factor is, of course, exacerbated in times of economic distress, such as our own.
Another factor that figures in the thinking of some people is ecology. Cremation saves land. Depending on what happens with the smoke of the crematorium, it can even be done in an environmentally protective way. That same article mentions that "To broaden cremation's appeal to the environmentally minded, and to comfort people fearful of fire, the company is marketing a new 'biocremation' process that dissolves the body with chemicals."
Yet another factor is modern living conditions. As that same article maintained, "the family plot had become anachronistic in today's transient society and that cremation afforded relatives and friends more time to gather from afar for a memorial service."
Given these very real issues, why do we Jews insist on burial? One reason goes to the heart of how the Jewish tradition understands us. In American ideology, each of us owns our own body and thus may decide how to dispose of it when we die. In contrast, the Torah asserts that God, as Creator of the world and us within it, owns our bodies: "Mark, the heavens to their uttermost reaches belong to the Lord your God, the earth and all that is on it!" (Deuteronomy 10:14). Similarly, "The earth is the Lord's and all that it holds, the world and its inhabitants" (Psalms 24:1). Thus we do not have the right actively to destroy that which does not belong to us.
Another reason, of course, comes from Jewish law. Based on the theological conviction just described, traditional Jewish law requires that we bury our dead rather than cremate them. This is not only the Orthodox approach. The Conservative Movement's Committee on Jewish Law and Standards has explicitly ruled that cremation is forbidden by Jewish law, and the Reform Movement's Committee on Halakhic Inquiry strongly discourages it.
An historical concern is also relevant. In a community that has witnessed the cremation of six million of our coreligionists by the Nazis, how can we do that to our own family members, those we know and love? All the messages that cremation transmits about how we think about our deceased are wrong.
Finally, a recent article in the Los Angeles Times raises yet another issue. The author, James Channing Shaw ("My Turn: The Cremation-versus-Burial Question," December 5, 2011), a dermatologist at the University of Toronto, identifies himself as a Protestant whose parents specifically asked to be cremated. Scattering his mother's ashes raises questions about his own choices. Interestingly, he says that his marriage to a Jewish woman and thus his exposure to Jewish practices on death and mourning has sensitized him to the values embedded in Jewish practice. In the end, despite carrying out his mother's wishes, he says this:
I keep memories of my parents close. However, I suspect that actually visiting a grave site would carry more meaning than memories alone. I picture a simple headstone with a succinct epitaph. I picture the site surrounded by trees, rain, songs of birds, even those twitchy squirrels that frustrated them over the years in their garden. I wish I had such a place to visit.
So how do we deal with the important reasons that people choose cremation, especially the predominant one - money? I am a Past President of Los Angeles Jewish Family Service. It was founded in 1854, and one of its two first programs was providing Jewish burial for free for those who could not afford a Jewish burial. I am proud to say that that program continues to this day. People who apply for this program are vetted to make sure that they indeed cannot afford to bury their dead, and they are asked to contribute what they can, but each year some 50 people are served by this program. It is made possible through the cooperation of the Jewish cemeteries in town, who alternate in accommodating these people and share its financial burden. This is, to put it bluntly, "putting our money where our mouths are" as a community in asserting that burial is the Jewish way, and I would encourage every community to make such arrangements. Indeed, when the Board was asked whether as part of this program it would sponsor cremations for those who want that but cannot afford it, the Board's answer was "No," for we are, after all, Jewish Family Service, and burial is the Jewish way.
In the end, as God assured Jacob in this week's Torah reading, we all want to be treated honorably and lovingly when we die. The Jewish way to do that is through burial and Jewish mourning rites. We as a community must ensure that every Jewish family can honor their dead in the way Jews have always done.
Shabbat shalom.