Rebels, Rule-Haters & Breakers, Transitions & Truths

Last Friday I officiated at a funeral for a woman whose approach towards death had been gradual, even a slow death can feel abrupt for people in mourning.

Also with a slow death, there can be opportunities to share secrets, but not this time; this woman was well guarded. She was buried with lots of secrets, leaving her bereft daughter with added pain, I’m sure.

This woman had hated (at least) two things in life: rules, and the color black.

Rules, because, well, there are people that don’t like being told what to do. And black because it reminded her of death.

So what do you do for a woman who hated rules when Judaism and Jewish ritual are so chock full of them, and when black is (for Jews and others) traditionally the color of death—but they’re the one who is actually dead this time?

Here’s an added irony; her own daughter “digs up dead bodies” for a living, as described by her mother. (The daughter is an archeologist who does prevents developers from desecrating the dead. She’s the one putting the stops on builders whose only objective is profit, and are unconcerned about impinging on old grave sites in New York City, like those buried in a Potter’s Field or a Black cemetery from slave times.)

You can tell by the way she described her daughter’s work that this woman was brash, funny, and headstrong. She’d refused to sit on a low chair, for instance, as is Jewish custom, while sitting shiva when her husband died.

I actually think people disregard or reject certain rules and rituals when they don’t understand their value, and that’s kind of sad to me as a rabbi because, you know, I specialize in these, and know they can be helpful.

Nonetheless, this woman said things her way, did things her way, and insisted on getting her way. I tend to appreciate rebels—as long as they’re not hurting anyone else.

Still, headstrong as she was, guarding her secrets and making her own rules, she was described with great love as “a pain in the ass.”

But I believe she was loved because a lot of love came from her—towards her own daughter whom she defended fiercely, toward a neighbor’s child, or toward her daughter’s friends. She was “very popular” and could be found sitting at the kitchen table with one of those friends, chatting away, probably giving over some kind of wisdom, advice or support a young person needed. She was open. You could talk about sex with her, for instance, probably “against the rules” at the time.

Rules or no rules, she obviously passed on the Jewish value to “love your neighbor as yourself” to her daughter who values the bones of the dead no matter how much money or power they had, and gets to insist on it because of the laws set in place that protect everyone, no matter how little power or money they had when they were alive; all are equal, made in the image of a God she didn’t believe in.

Though she didn’t like rules, in my mind, she was a person with a sense of order, and thus a sense of beauty, because she loved cleanliness and kept her house immaculate. Maybe it made her feel some control in a chaotic, anarchic world.

Taking all this into account, I decided we would break the rules at her funeral, and bring beauty into it in a way she probably would have appreciated; I suggested that everyone wear her favorite color, red.

And when her daughter didn’t want to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish, among other things, I said fine, of course (though I wish I could have helped her understand the value in this ritual, but it wasn’t the moment).

Speaking of transitions and rules, there’s been an abrupt change in the type of narrative in the Torah over these past few weeks. Up until now, it was pretty much a storyline of conflicts in families and their challenges, of God being absent or showing up, of finding one’s leadership skills (Moses), and a (very slow) transition from bondage to freedom for the Israelites over 400 years.

We suddenly find ourselves in a world chock full of rules; God presented the Israelites with the Ten Commandments at the foot of Mt. Sinai to a quaking congregation too afraid to look.

Yet they accept in unison, saying they will listen and do as God says.

Last week, a whole slew of new laws were added. Not as fun for reading, but they are essential clues to creating a just and caring society. (For instance, don’t give more weight to the testimony of a rich man over that of a poor man.)

Neither the Ten Commandments nor the ensuing laws all make total sense to our modern sensibilities, so okay, they may need some updating. Alternatively, they may need to be thrown out completely; rather than debating the best way to treat your slave, maybe slavery is just completely unacceptable.

This week there is a list of instructions (also not such fun reading) on how to construct the tabernacle, the temporary home for “God to dwell amongst” the people as they make their way through the desert after escaping from the Egyptians. This tabernacle requires very precise measurements.

But the part to pay attention to, in my mind, is that there is room for a great deal of beauty, with special threads for hangings, and precious metals for special implements.

Yet, what do we do with all this in a world filled with skepticism, where a mobile home for a God most of us don’t believe in might seem totally absurd, and where we definitely don’t feel "God dwelling amongst” us?

With all that’s been happening over the past weeks, all I’ve been able to think about is the cruelty we’re seeing in the world, including the possibility of another war, and the pain that comes with it. I honestly haven’t known how to respond other than being aghast and heartbroken by the capacity for ugliness humans contain.

As we approach the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States, the laws that were created over these past two and a half centuries, some that took great struggle to pass, laws that were supposed to create a more just and fair society, even if they’ve done so rather poorly and very imperfectly, are being struck down or totally disregarded by the current administration. Meanwhile, those carrying out the wishes of this current administration would probably say they are “just following the rules” (as did the Nazis).

There has been a pointed effort to lead us to believe that either there is no such thing as truth, or that the truth is unknowable. Meanwhile, the truth is either being distorted or buried.

I guess we could see it as witnessing the dismantling “God’s House” as opposed to building it up.

I tend to love people who love breaking or disregarding rules. We need rebels in a world full of rules.

So here’s my conclusion about how to judge if a law is helpful and should be kept in place, and I’m going to borrow some language from a spiritual leader anonymous to me (though you won’t know which language it is):

If it makes you more responsible and mature, more sober, more honest, more inwardly silent, more meditative, then it can be valuable.

If it considers all human beings as equally worthy of justice regardless of wealth or power, then it’s useful.

If it forces greater cooperation, and doesn’t turn belonging to a group into an identity that shuts people out or makes them feel superior, then that sounds good.

On the other hand, if it seeks to erase painful history regarding oppression or elimination of a specific group, if it puts more power and money into the hands of a few, and leaves out the many, then something terrible has gone astray.

In fact, I think those politicians who wield religion to justify their abuse of power and certain populations could learn a lot by reading the laws of our Jewish Bible. “Love your neighbor as yourself” and “Made in the image of God” would be a good start as they break into people’s houses, chase them, kidnap them, beat them, sometimes kill them, and deport them, ignoring the courts that tell them it’s all illegal.

It would do them some good to stop, quake a little in their shoes, and declare finally that they will listen and act as God tells them.

We are in a very intense transitional moment, watching as our country perhaps approaches a slow death, and maybe that’s necessary. Transitions can be painful, and this one is no exception.

Meanwhile, as part of it all, many truths are being buried along with many secrets, which we can’t allow to happen.

There are laws and rules that may be a pain in the ass, like the ones this archeologist helps enforce, but they may be helpful to an entire society, even if we don’t really know how. The important thing is to be open and allow ancient wisdom to come through.

We just need to remember: “The truth does not need a tribe or applause; it stands even when no one is watching, in solitude.” (From the same unknown-to-me author.)