A lot of Jews want to be buried in Israel. They don't want to live here -- heaven forbid -- but they want a first-row seat after the fact just in case the Messiah shows up and there is the possibility of resurrection. I am sure that there are some genuine people who had a good reason for not living here but needing to take up a piece of the scarce and valuable burial real-estate while they wait for the big day when they get their just reward.
Yesterday my husband and I drove to Jerusalem to attend the funeral of my friend Lea S. Lea made Aliyah from Montreal two years ago, at 73. I would never have considered missing her funeral, but as soon as I realized that she was being buried in Jerusalem, instead of Ra'anana, I knew we were in for a funeral "event" and I was right. If the average Canadian or American participated in an Israeli funeral they would probably think that they were unsuspecting participants in a Candid Camera episode.
The funeral was scheduled to begin at 11:00 am, which in Israel is really just a suggested start time. True to form, everyone was in the parking lot of the gigantic cemetery on the outskirts of Jerusalem promptly at 11.
That's when the fun began.
The Hareidi-controlled Chevra Kaddisha in their black hats, long black coats and foot-long grey beards, drove up in their blue funeral van with Lea inside. One of them jumped out and started to explain to the crowd how we would have to get back in our cars and drive to where she would ultimately be buried. Yes, it's a huge graveyard. And frankly it more closely resembles a perpetual construction site than a peaceful graveyard. There's not an ounce of greenery to be found; rather what seems like miles and miles of Jerusalem limestone slabs.
So the crowd, who had all just finished finding parking spots, went back to their cars to drive to new parking spots about a kilometer away. Back the way we came and then left up a hill to an area that really wasn't that parking friendly.
We got out of our cars and started to walk.....and walk .... and walk, down a slight incline, turned right and headed even further down another incline. Probably another kilometer. At which point, the blue funeral van pulled up out of nowhere and flung open its back doors.
Then, right on the spot, the funeral began. The body was still in the back of the van and the participants were crowded in -- at least 12 deep -- behind the open back doors of the van. Various family members stood in front of the van's open doors and spoke. For those of us at the back of the crowd, it was almost impossible to hear. In fact, we almost missed the transfer of the body to the actual grave.
It's important to explain that there are virtually no coffins in Israel. Jews here are wrapped in shrouds for burial and placed directly in the ground. It is very disconcerting the first time you see what looks like a mummy in front of you. Your imagination really goes to work on the visuals. For some people, it is always unnerving no matter how many times they have witnessed it.
Yesterday I heard that burial land has become so scant that they are going to start burying couples in plots one on top of the other. In the Jerusalem cemetery they were building sort of an apartment building for corpses. I really don't want to think about that too much because it seems so desperate. Like hoarding gone mad. When my time comes I will be very glad not to know exactly what happens.
Which brings me back to the Jews who didn't want to live here but want a piece of the very meagre burial space that should be reserved for people who actually lived in the country and were active parts of Israeli society before they died. Call me crazy -- I am sure many will. I am sure I will hear about it for the next few weeks and some people will even cut me off their Rosh HaShanah card lists. Yes, there are exceptions, but I think that if you want to reap the benefits of something then first you have to do the work. Plus, Isn't a life well lived more important? It should be.
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