Of the 150 chapters that comprise our people’s first and greatest prayer book, the biblical book of Psalms, only one of those chapters is attributed to the greatest Jew of all—Moses. That is Psalm 90, which contains humanity’s fervent appeal to God: “Establish for us the work of our hands!”
Moses’s appeal is not just for temporal prosperity, as some might interpret it. It is much grander than that. He is saying, “Let me know that my life has meaning beyond the days I have spent on earth. Let me be sure, O God, that the years of my earthly journey were not in vain. Let me know that in some way I live on.”
We express that same hope every time we visit a cemetery and every time we place a monument marker at the grave of a loved one.
One of the questions people ask me most frequently is, “Rabbi, what really happens to me after I die? Do we Jews believe in life after death? Do we believe in heaven or hell?”
The simple answer to the question is, “Yes! We do!” Rabbinic literature speaks of olam ha-ba, “the world to come,” as a place where the righteous receive reward and the wicked are appropriately punished.
“Why then,” the questioner retorts, “do we hear so little of this in Jewish life while it is at the center of every Christian service or funeral that I attend?”
The answer points to a significant and honest difference between Christianity and Judaism as they developed. Our daughter religion was very much centered on the afterlife. Achieving salvation after death was the primary goal of living as classical Christianity understood it. If one believed in the saving power of the life, death on the cross, resurrection, and ascension to heaven of Jesus as the Christ (which is simply a Greek word for “Messiah”), then one’s eternal salvation and reward were assured.
For Jews, questions of afterlife have always been much less central. Our primary focus has always been on this life. Our primary goal in living is not to attain salvation in the world beyond, but to make the world in which we live as good a place as we possibly can.
In recent decades, we Jews—Reform Jews in particular—have so submerged mention of the afterlife that many Jews frame their question to me as an assumption. They say, “We don’t believe in life after death. Do we, Rabbi?”
Again, I would assert, “Yes, we do!” For Jews, attaining the reward in olam ha-ba (“the world to come”) does not depend on what we believe. It depends on how we act. It does not matter what we believe or do not believe about God. It is a matter of how we live our lives.
We are also very fuzzy on the details. Our focus has primarily been “Live your life here on earth as well as you can. And the afterlife, whatever it will be, will take care of itself.”
Still, our hearts yearn for a more specific answer to the question “What happens after I die?” I shall share mine with you. I divide my response into two parts: what I hope and what I know.
I hope, and in my heart I believe, that good people receive, in some way, rewards from God in a realm beyond the grave. I hope that they are reunited with loved ones and live on with them in a realm free of the pain and debilitation that might have marked the latter stages of their earthly life.
Speaking personally, my father died at age fifty-seven; and my mother, who never remarried, died at age eighty-eight. She was a widow for more years than she was married. My fondest hope since her death is that they are together again, enjoying the things they enjoyed on earth and as much in love with each other as the day they stood beneath the chuppah to unite their lives.
I hope, pray, and even trust that they are young, strong, and vigorous—not weak and frail as they each were before they died. I hope and pray also that, in some indescribable way, they are able to feel and share the joy of the happy events that our family has shared since they left us.
I cannot of course prove that any of this is true. Yet there is warrant for these hopes in the annals of Jewish tradition. There are enough wonderful stories attesting to an eternal reward for goodness in the world beyond to allow me to cling tenaciously to my hope and belief.
Beyond what I merely hope, though, there is an aspect of afterlife of which I am absolutely sure. Our loved ones live on in our memories, and those memories can surely inspire us to lead better lives.
At the beginning of Noah Gordon’s marvelous novel The Rabbi, the protagonist, Rabbi Michael Kind, thinks of his beloved grandfather who died when he was a teenager and recalls a Jewish legend that teaches, “When the living think of the dead, the dead who are in paradise know they are loved, and they rejoice.” As I said, I hope but certainly cannot prove that it is true. But I can reformulate that legend into a statement that is unimpeachable: When I think of my dear ones, I know that I have been loved, and I rejoice. I rejoice in and try to live up to the life lessons they taught me. I rejoice in the memories of happy times I shared with them. I rejoice in the knowledge that I am a better person because of them.
Not long ago, I decided to dedicate two seats in the rear of our sanctuary at Congregation Beth Israel in memory of my parents. I chose those seats because they mark the exact spot in my boyhood synagogue where my parents’ reserved High Holy Day seats were located in the sanctuary of Temple Sharey Tefilo in East Orange, NJ, where I grew up.
Every time I look at them, it is easy to imagine them sitting there. During silent prayers and when the cantor sings, my heart overflows with wonderfully inspiring memories.
On Yom Kippur and on the last day of our Sukkot, Passover and Shavuot festivals, we say Yizkor prayers for the same purpose: to draw inspiration from the wonderful memories that fill our hearts and minds when we think of those whom we have loved. We long for them, and we want to be worthy of them. The acute presence of their absence reminds us that life is finite and calls to us to make each day count in living up to their ideals and doing what we can to make the world a better place.
I believe we can—if we listen—hear them call to us as God called to Abraham in establishing the sacred covenant of our faith: Be a blessing! Study and follow God’s instruction! Practice and teach those you love to practice righteousness and justice!
And then when we turn their words into our actions, we know—we absolutely know—that our loved ones are immortal and that they live on in a very real and special way.
13 thoughts on “What Happens After I Die?”
Beautiful….and I believe true of our beloved pets, as well.
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Thank you so much, Ellie, for your response. You know, I had never thought about pets, but I believe (meaning I hope) you are right!
Very thought provoking for me. I often think that my parents are looking down on me from somewhere and somehow share the joys and tribulations of my life they have missed, since they are gone.
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Thanks so much, Kati! This idea has been a source of great comfort to me, and I am glad that yu feel the same way! Shabbat Shalom!
Your congregants really ask *you* what *they* believe? That might be the saddest thing I’ve heard today.
You have clearly led a life without much sadness.I did not say they ask me what “they believe.” They and others do often ask me what”Jews” believe. Glad I could clarify this for you.
I’d like to think that all those I love and who have gone before me will extend their arms and hearts to me when I pass beyond the veil of this life.
Heaven for me is spending the eternities with them. I pray that’s what it really is.
Blessings to you Rabbi Stephen.
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Dani, thank you for this beautiful thought. I share your prayer!
I have heard you speak on this subject on more than one occasion and i have read this in the past. My general reaction is, thank goodness i am Jewish, and it allows multiple interpretations of things. The question, is do you remember why i am Jewish after growing up in an interfaith household. Well, first i believe in God. Despite having two degrees in science, i definitely do. In fact, in some ways i use my knowledge of science to prove that there is a suprrnatural force out there. For how else does the earth have just the right amount of oxygen and nitrogen to sustain life? How else does the simple process of cell division cause new life to come about and the multiple regenerations of body cells that sustain our life happen. To me there is an outside force that causes this all to happen because it is far to coincidental for everything to line up. As one patient who was a scientist said to me, “if you want to have proof there is God, go study science!” Using that same science, i ended up as a Jew for two other reasons. That which Christians, my father’s religion believe so importantly, i cannot believe. The whole jesus story from immaculate conception to death on a cross saving people’s sins is completely not believable to me. So is the concept of life after death not believable to me. Another rabbi told me, that i do because i believe that we carry memories of our loved ones after they die, and our lives our impacted by them.Well yes, but i don’t believe anything beyond that. Why? Back to science again. That which makes us who we are is in the frontal lobes of our brain. Once breathing and a heartbeat stops aka death, the heart no longer pumps oxygenated blood to the brain, and that which makes us who we are is gone…except for the memories on the survivors and the impact we left on the earth. I do respect that there are many people who totally disagree. There are beliefs of heaven, reincarnation, becoming one with the earth and sky, etc. And what i like about being a jew is that there is room for multiple beliefs in the same religion, and that i can go along not believing in an afterlife, you can believe it, we can both be jews, and appreciate that what really matters is that we strive to make the world better than how we found it. And for what is is worth, i work to keep my loved ones memories alive. I use the kiddush cup thay my great grandparents received for their 50th wedding anniversary for every Shabbat, every festival, and every family simchah. But they both died before i was born. I also work to keep my aunt’s memory alive. You probably remember me saying something about her. She died during my 1st year of college after a long battle with cancer. We both knew before she died that i intended to be a nurse because that was what i was in college studying, but neither of us imagined that the experience of watching her sick would inspire me to specialize in oncology. My oldest child’s middle name was my aunt’s name. (All of my kids first, middle, and Hebrew names are of deceased family members) And i always, always where my aunt’s ring that she gave me a few months before she died. Check out my right hand sometime, i will show it to you, and tell you the story behind it.
Thank you, Lisa, for your thoughtful reflection. I am eager to hear the story behind the ring!
Reblogged this on Finding Ourselves In Biblical Narratives and commented:
To the legacy of David Benamy, in whose loving memory I have the honor of speaking this Shabbat
Thank you Rabbi, this is lovely and I am reminded how important it is to live our lives well and let the future whatever it may be take care of itself. As you say our loved ones live on in our memories… I remember asking my husband a long time ago whether he believed in life after death – his response was that our children live on after we’re gone, and I find that very re-assuring in that in this sense there IS life after death!
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Susan, thank you for this kind and wise thought. And sometimes, when we least expect it it, we can see that we do live on in our children!