Six months into my mid-career rabbinic ordination program at The Shalom Hartman Institute, I received a phone call from my very secular Israeli cousin sharing some sad news. “Niv” (all names are changed to protect privacy) let me know that my sharp-witted, stylish, impossibly daring aunt Dina had passed away. Would I perform the funeral? He asked. It would be in the secular section of a private Ramat Hasharon cemetery, beyond the jurisdiction of the state rabbinate. Though I am an academic based outside of Boston, I was in Jerusalem for the first of three ordination program summer intensives. I called a rabbi friend, crammed in as much knowledge as I could, put on the only button-down shirt I had with me – white, unfortunately – and took the early train the next morning.  

My cousins are the kind of Israelis American Jews like me hold in awe. My newly-widowed uncle, Yishai, is a successful businessman who greatly distinguished himself in the military in the ‘60s and ‘70s. His quiet authority left room for Dina’s outsized personality; she was so bold and charming she once walked into a random party at a posh hotel and walked out arm-in-arm with Queen Noor. 

Their sons Niv and Eyal are gigantic, tattooed surfers and skydivers who vacation in the Maldives and the Philippines and have thriving careers in tech. I would be showing up for the funeral in my kippah, perhaps under cover of performing the service, but in fact as my new self, having started wearing it on October 8th, and having become more observant since. I was not sure what they would think. 

Niv picked me up from the train station. I met with him, Eyal, their wives, Ofra and Tali, my bereaved uncle Yishai, and a close family friend. We looked through family photographs, shared memories and tears. Dina had a complicated relationship with Judaism; the family did not want a religious ceremony. Fine, I said. In that moment, I was willing to help design whatever would be meaningful for them. She had studied English literature at Hebrew University and had worked as a teacher. Was there a poem she particularly liked? Not really, they said. We cycled........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)