Tuesday with the dead people.

Date: Sat, Jan 5, 2013 at 9:28 PM

Subject: Tuesday with the dead people.

It was a sunny day, Tuesday. I had a vacation due to the fact that my work requires me to call people who take vacations at the end of December. It’s strange being on vacation when everyone else is working – or trying to find work. It is strange living in a country where most people speak one language and you speak another. Even living in a town with more native language speakers doesn’t help – since I work in my native language and my wife and children speak to me in my native language.

I had been avoiding this trip for sometime – longer than I cared to admit. Everytime we had guests, they would ask me if I had been there… and I hadn’t yet been there. I was struggling with the idea of going. For you see, I just don’t like graveyards. Call me silly, but hanging around dead people just isn’t what I call a fun time. And it’s not supposed to be. Look, I know as well as the next guy, that really, we’re not praying to them. We’re supposedly using their "merits" to help our prayers get to G-d. It sounds so unJewish, but Yehoshua Ben Nun was reported to have gone to the graves of our forefathers. And when we say, G-d of Avraham, G-d of Issac, G-d of Israel, why are acknowledging on some level, that indeed, Judaism has intermediaries within the faith. Again, it’s not exactly intermediaries, but it’s "keelu" "Like"; and that’s always bothered me. Besides, G-d knows my thoughts before I even have them, since I wouldn’t have them without Him giving them to me – right? I mean don’t we believe that G-d is the Knower, the Known, and the Knowledge (or whatever the order is); it’s in this weeks parsha for crying out loud. But that wasn’t the real reason I hadn’t gone to the graveyard.

The real reason is that I don’t want to admit that I needed to go. What need? No one there is my relative needing me to say kaddish for them. I’ve never met anyone buried in this particular graveyard. Never. I’ve heard stories about some of them – and was surprised to learn some of the other people who are buried in the same place as this particular grave. Yet, people seem to go to the grave of the person that I had been avoiding.

It’s strange to go to a Jewish graveyard. You’re supposed to tuck in your tzizzit (if you’re wearing them); and you wash your hands, Kohanim don’t go to graveyards – and in fact it’s kind of questionable for regular Jews to go to graveyards, I mean their a place of tumah, and we’re an "am kodesh" a holy nation. But yet, people go. And there I was. Standing there. The sun was shining, it was in the high 50s, low 60s, which for the first week in January is considered to be warm. Maybe the climate really is changing?

Anyway… I walked down the rocky hill with it’s rolling grass and weeds, and unmarked graves, and marked graves, and famous graves and probably non-famous graves; and I thought – why am I so against going? Maybe it will do me some good? The point is to make you realize that – well – I’ll be there one day myself. It’s to bring you to "teshuva" that’s it. Because if you think that the stones are listening, you might be committed – well, in the circles I travel in, the stones do listen. And it’s not "crazy" or irreligious to believe that the people (what’s left of them) are somehow helping your prayer reach G-d.

I stood there and looked at the Tzaddaka boxes that surrounded his tomb. There was a guy sitting there – a live person – collecting Tzaddaka. So I could give to the box, or I could give to the person. I gave to neither.

Then, there was two people sitting – literally next to him (the dead person in the box); and talking about what a great tzaddik he was, etc. In hebrew, which, mine is finally getting good enough to understand some of the conversation – that I wasn’t apart of.

Their eyes were shining as they spoke with love of the Tzaddik inside. One of them slapped the tomb and kissed it ! If you think I am kidding, than you’ve never been to a Jewish graveyard. People slap the tombs and kiss them. Okay, not everyone, but this guy did. He he was dressed in "religious" garb; and looked very much like a person who spent alot of time reading Jewish texts, and living a Jewish life. In short, religious. The other person, who he was speaking to, also looked religious, but more in a newer, fresher, way, like he was journeying to the tomb to get something…. but all he got was the guy collecting Tzaddika and the other guy sitting reading Tehillam. So, they spoke together as if they’ve known each other their whole lives. If you saw their eyes, you would understand. It turns out that it was first time they met – yet – that familiar love was there – and perhaps – just perhaps, it was the Tzaddik inside that brought it out. Definitely the Tzaddik in the box was why they were there.

Okay, you’re probably getting mad at me for being so trite. I should have more Kovod – honor/respect for the dead; especially a Tzaddik. It’s just hard for me to connect to this idea that this particular person is anymore (or was) anymore important than anyone else. Or especially considering that in the same graveyard there is a prophet from the Bible ! buried in the same area, yet, even I – I didn’t know that until I went there that day. And I told other people, "hey did you know that this particular prophet was buried in the same graveyard as so-and-so?" Many people did not. So, what’s up? Isn’t there a Jewish axiom that the earlier people were greater than the later ones? And a PROPHET of G-d !!! A person who G-d actually SPOKE to; I mean I’d think if there’d be a grave that had tzaddaka boxes and people hovering around it; it’d be that guy. But, alas, that’s not exactly how it works sometimes. Go jump in a lake, I can’t explain it either. I’m the guy who doesn’t even like going to graveyards; so how can I explain to you why some graves get more – err – popular ? than others? it makes no sense. But then again, we are taking about the Jewish people right?

Even Moses calls us ‘stiffed necked’ — back to the grave. So, I am still standing there. Then, this married couple comes with their baby ! to the grave. Talk about strange. You know, where I came from people take their kids to gun shows and horse racing; and a restaurant called Hooters. To me that’s normal. Normal where I came from is guys marrying guys, okay, that’s the new normal.

I stood there for quite sometime – then I moved to other graves of the people that I thought might not get a lot of visitors, including, the author of the Shulchan Aruch. No one ever talks about him. It’s always the other guy. Anyway, I went down the hill to pay a visit to the author of the Shulchan Aruch. The two of them actually were alive at the same time (for a brief period); ! ! Can you imagine that ! WOW.

Here I am at his grave and still thinking of the other guy; so not fair. I got to his grave; and he also is surrounded by Tzaddaka boxes; and – well, no one was sitting around collecting. There were two people standing at the grave. One was talking and the other was listening. It was not exactly a mirror of what I saw above; but very close. It was very strange. If I could describe it, I’d be an excellent writer. I tried to verbally describe the scene to my wife what happened at the graves; and even that was not the full picture.

G-d arranges everything right? So it had to be that these four people needed to be in the graveyard at the same time as me – and don’t forget the married couple with their baby, the guy collecting Tzaddaka… all there… just for me?

? I sat there and thought of that. The sun was still out, the birds were still chirping, the light breeze blew across my face..

and I just started to cry.