Rehearsing Death
When Sogyal Rinpoche came to The West from Tibet, he was shocked to find that for all its technological achievements, modern Western society had no real understanding of death or a way to deal with it. “I learned that people today are taught to deny death, and taught that it means nothing but annihilation and loss. That means that most of the world lives either in denial of death or in terror of it. Others look on death with a naïve thoughtless cheerfulness, thinking that it is nothing to worry about: ‘It’s not a big deal, it’s natural, I’ll be fine.’ That’s a nice theory until one is dying.”
We stand now in the shadow of more than 6,000 sudden and terrible deaths, and our response moves from denial to fear, and we tremble in our profound vulnerability. What better time to look into the mirror of Death? Sogyal Rinpoche says that, “Death is a mirror in which the entire meaning of life is reflected.” This gazing into the mirror of Death is exactly the practice of Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur is called a “Rehearsal for Death.” We fast from food, drink, sex, washing, and wearing leather as a way to detach ourselves from the physical body and to experience the nakedness of our existence without distraction. It is even the custom to wear the clothes that you will be buried in. For the whole day of Yom Kippur, we act as if it is our last day, our only day to face the Truth, forgive ourselves and each other, remember who we are and why we were born. Yom Kippur reminds us that we are all dying. There is no time for regret, worry, fear, no time to put off facing the truth, or to delay thanking our beloveds. On Yom Kippur each moment takes on an urgency. We walk through most days only half-alive. Yom Kippur, like every real encounter with Death, urges us into the fullness of living. On Yom Kippur, Death becomes our rebbe.
I have known this rebbe and his teachings. Working for hospice I have sat with dying people, softening my heart to their suffering, facing my own fear so that I could be present and calm. I have witnessed the great light and the expansion of consciousness that happens after death. With death I have known the presence of a Great Mystery which is at once awesome and inviting.
When my father lay dying last fall, I called on every shred of wisdom and strength so that I could witness and help guide his soul through this passage and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Looking back on this passage I see that the stages that my father went through in his dying are also what we need to move through on Yom Kippur if we are to be re-born into a new year when the shofar announces the closing of the gates at Ne-ila.
The first stage in my father’s death was moving from the medical to the hospice model. My Dad suffered from an incurable disease that effected both body and mind. The hidden blessing in this was that my only real connection with him was through the communication of his soul. The doctors could keep patching him up and sending him home. Each new symptom could be treated with a medication and then the side effects of the medication could be treated with another. My sense was that his soul was trapped and yearning for freedom. Moving to the hospice model meant stopping all medications that were meant to fix something, giving comfort, and trusting the process of dying.
And now on Yom Kippur we also stop medicating. How often do we live by the medical model —feeling tired? Have some coffee. A little sad? Maybe some chocolate will help. Bored? Turn the TV on. Feeling empty? What would fill the hole? Feeling lonely? Maybe sex would help. Our fast on Yom Kippur is like leaving the technology of the hospital, going home to our families, and knowing how fragile we are. And like hospice we seek the comfort of the precious Tradition we have inherited and learn to trust this process of dying into new life.
As my father lay dying, I sang to him, read the psalms, held the straw and glass as he sipped at the only nourishment he could swallow. And then I realized that it was his soul that was asking for my attention. During the next ten days I took three journeys to the place between worlds where my fathers soul hovered.
In the first journey I asked him to remember what he loved. Kahlil Gibran said, “You would know the secret of Death, but how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of Life?” During his long illness, my father had lost his connection to the “Heart of Life”. In that place between worlds, far enough from his suffering, my father slowly began to remember what he loved.
Our journey also depends on that remembrance. What is your passion? What do you love? Where is your gratefulness? If because of bitterness or cynicism or the complications of survival or the dimming force of grief you have been cut off from your own life force, your own great love, then you must re-claim that love, and reconnect through what you love to your essence. (Ivdu et HaShem B’Simcha). We are commanded to serve God with joy. Only then can we come into The Presence. Where is your joy?
On the second journey I took to the place between worlds where my father’s soul hovered, I saw that he was undertaking the immense project of a life review. Scene after scene flashed by, and he was so taken up by the drama and color of his story, that he barely noticed my presence there. He was transfixed by the grandeur, the joy and the anguish, the twistings and turnings, the complexities of a life.
On Yom Kippur, we also let our lives flash before us, and through this review we glean the wisdom of compassion for ourselves and for others whose lives are just as amazing. And from the process of this life review we begin to gain a wide perspective on life itself.
On the third and final journey I took to the place between worlds where my father’s soul hovered, I saw that he had turned away from his life and was facing the wide expanse before him. He had received a glimpse of the light of Oneness and it was drawing him forward with great Love and tenderness.
On Yom Kippur there is a great turning, a facing of death and a return. In ancient days the High Priest turned away from the entire created world and entered into the Holy of Holies. There he surely faced death. A rope was tied to his leg in case he couldn’t return. When he came out from the Holy of Holies, the high Priest spoke the Great Name. After facing the Infinite, the great Void, he had the power to heal and cleanse the people with one word. On Yom Kippur we trace the journey of the High Priest and see through his eyes. One glimpse of that infinite expanse can heal us and make us into healers.
On November 6th my father died. I officiated at the funeral, mourned and sat Shiva with my family and then came home to continue my process of grieving. A week later, my mother called to tell me a strange story. My Dad had been very attached to his wedding ring. More than fifteen years ago he lost that precious ring and decided to buy another one to replace it. He lost that one too, and as his illness progressed and he went through ring after ring, finally my mother decided to stop buying rings. Sometimes during his illness my Dad would cry out in despair, “Where’s my ring? Where’s my ring?”
Well, two weeks after my father was buried, my mother heard a knock on the door very early in the morning. It is the garbage collector and he is holding a ring in his hand, saying, “This fell out of your garbage.” My mother took the ring and gave him a reward. She examined the ring and saw that the year of their wedding – 1945 was engraved inside. This was the original wedding ring that was lost some fifteen years before! My mother who is a very sensible woman tried to find an explanation for this but ended up calling it a miracle. She wears the ring on a chain around her neck every day.
I took it as a sign of the crystal clarity that my father’s soul had attained. He could locate his ring, a symbol of his love, place it in the hands of a garbage collector that would return it to my mother. And it rests there now on her heart.
Sh’ma Yisrael! Pay attention to the essential unity! And then you will love “what is” with all that you are. Place this truth upon your heart (al l’vovechah).
Teach it to your children. Speak of it always — when you’re sitting in your house, when you’re journeying, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind it for a sign on your hand and keep it visible before your eyes. Inscribe this truth on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
May this Yom Kippur be the occasion for just such a miracle: that Death becomes for you a mirror in which the entire meaning of life is reflected and magnified, that this day awaken the power of your love, that whatever preciousness that has been lost through the tumult of life be returned to you and placed in a moment of clarity on your open heart.
©2001 Shefa Gold. All rights reserved.