The Most Unexpected Call: A Rabbi Leads a Far-Left Activist’s Funeral

“Can you run my mom’s funeral in four hours?” Rabbi Yoni Lavie said yes—then discovered who she was.

(Photos: shutterstock, Tomer Neuberg / Flash 90)(Photos: shutterstock, Tomer Neuberg / Flash 90)
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Rabbi Yoni Lavie, a lecturer for teens, parents, and educators on educational and Torah topics, and a writer on various platforms, shared about an unusual funeral he was invited to lead. 'My mother passed away this morning,' an unfamiliar person wrote to Rabbi Lavie on WhatsApp. 'The funeral is in four hours, and it really matters to us that you run the ceremony. Can you? We’ll pay whatever it takes.'

Rabbi Lavie says he glanced at his calendar and saw that with a little effort he could fit the event in between a lecture and a meeting.

'I don’t take money for this,' he wrote back, 'but if it’s important to you—I’ll come. I’d be glad if you told me a bit about your mother.'

The man thanked him warmly, and a minute later, instead of calling, sent Rabbi Lavie a link to the deceased’s Wikipedia entry.

Rabbi Lavie opened the link and was stunned. 'I almost fell off my chair. She was a far-left activist who dedicated her life to fighting the ‘occupation.’ She supported dismantling the settlements and establishing a Palestinian state, and organized joint events with families of terrorists. She was among the founders of a far-left party and a fierce fighter against ‘religionization,’' the rabbi shared.

'I didn’t understand why, after all that, they were turning to a rabbi to conduct a Jewish ceremony, but in a conversation with the son it became clear that she came from a traditional family and, although she raised her two sons as secular, she asked to be buried in a Jewish ceremony.'

'At 3:00 p.m. I arrived at the alternative cemetery in Tel Aviv and was struck by the size of the crowd that packed the place. I looked right and left, searching for acquaintances, but aside from a few Knesset members from the far left I didn’t recognize anyone. I proceeded to lead the ceremony, and after my opening words I invited those delivering eulogies.'

'The next few minutes were difficult and jarring for me. One after another came impassioned speeches about the deceased’s actions against the ‘cruel injustices of the occupation’ and sharp condemnations of the ‘terrible current government.’'

'I wondered whether it was a mistake on my part to agree to take part in such an event, and what I could say without risking accusations of ‘religionization.’'

The rabbi added: 'But then I thought again: Yoni, the family invited you here. The deceased herself came from a traditional background and asked to be buried in a Jewish ceremony. If anything, see the beauty in the fact that even people whose way of life is so different from yours don’t give up on a Jewish burial according to the tradition of Moses and Israel.'

'I stepped up to the microphone, looked straight at the crowd—especially the Knesset members from the left—and did exactly what I do at every funeral: I spoke with them about the Jewish perspective on life and death. I explained that the value of existence isn’t the time that passes between the moment we’re born and the moment our time comes to leave this world, but the content a person pours into those years.'

'I spoke with them about how a person is not only a body but, first and foremost, a soul, and even when the body is laid to rest in the earth, the soul continues on to a better place. I invited the two sons to perform keriah and to recite: Baruch Dayan HaEmet. The crowd rose to its feet as I handed the sons a page with the Kaddish prayer, and all those present answered ‘Amen’ out loud. From there we accompanied the coffin, reciting passages from Tehillim, toward the grave, where we said the prayer El Malei Rachamim.'

'The deceased remained silent the whole way. But I have a feeling that from the place where her soul is now, she was actually glad that after all the years she fought ‘religionization,’ at least at our funeral there was ‘religionization’ in the strictest sense, in the presence of leaders of the left who listened attentively and said Amen.'

The rabbi continued: 'As we parted, the two sons came up to me and said: ‘Rabbi, we are deeply grateful. We couldn’t imagine a more dignified and beautiful way to say goodbye to Mom. Maybe you could still accept payment?’ Of course I refused, gave them a brief overview of the customs of shivah, and we parted with a firm handshake.'

'I washed my hands as I left the cemetery, my thoughts racing. It’s unbelievable how far apart Jews can be—and yet so close. How vast the gap can be over the course of entire lives, and still, at the decisive moment, a point of connection emerges that unites us.'

'I thought that, in a way, even in her life that woman acted from ‘Jewish motives.’ She believed with all her being in peace—which is certainly an important value—and fought against what she perceived as immorality. Even her fight against ‘religionization’ stemmed from how she perceived religion. Of course, there may be a huge gap between all that and truth and reality, but from her perspective she devoted her life to what she thought was moral and wanted to make the world and life in this country better.'

'And after all is said and done, yes, she lived her life as a secular woman and raised her children that way, but in death she wanted to be buried as Jews have been throughout history: according to tradition and law, with her sons saying after her: ‘Yitgadal v’yitkadash shmei rabba’,' Rabbi Lavie concluded.

What’s the point of living if we all die in the end? Zvi Yehezkeli meets Rabbi Daniel Cohen for an honest, hard-hitting conversation about beginnings and endings, birth and death.

Tags:Jewish burialKaddishfuneralTehillimIsraelleft-wingRabbi Yoni Lavie

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