MY SITE
Figuring Things Out3/28/2023 “You’ve just changed our tradition,” remarked one of those attending the funeral I’d just conducted. At the end of the ceremony, I’d asked those in attendance to form two lines back to the cars for the mourners to pass through. “Normally, the mourners sit in the chapel, and we all go up to them and wish them long life. But that’s okay—you’re teaching us something new.” I was absolutely speechless! Here I’d just altered a long-standing practice of the community, and I was being congratulated on doing it differently. How utterly surprising! My first funeral in Birmingham was for a long-time 86-year-old member of the synagogue. The service and burial took place at Witton Cemetery, about 4 miles/6 km from the synagogue. The very large Jewish section is owned by the Orthodox synagogue Singers Hill, with a small area set aside for burials by Birmingham Progressive Synagogue. Julie, who works for the congregation, called me up last week and offered to meet me at the cemetery so that I could familiarise myself with the place and practices. This was my second time attempting Birmingham roads, and it was just terrifying. Honestly, I’ve concluded that Birmingham drivers are among the best in the world. This is the only possible way that I’ve avoided a collision so far! There is a certain randomness to how lanes appear and disappear, often right in the middle of roundabouts/traffic circles. You think that the lane you’re in is going to get you onto the correct road, and then lo and behold you need to be one lane over to the left, but there’s a car there, so you go all the way around the roundabout again and make a second attempt. Signs telling you the speed limit seem to be much less common than speed cameras. I just travel the same speed as everyone else and hope for the best. I’ve given up on Google Maps and switched to Waze after google told me to use the right lane to turn right and then gave 10 seconds notice to cut over three lanes to the left. Even Waze is a bit worrisome, but not quite as bad. After fifteen minutes of white-knuckled driving, I pulled up to the cemetery and gave myself a high five. Witton Cemetery is just lovely. It helps to have a good supply of rain to keep the grass green, as opposed to the much drier cemeteries in South Australia. The graves are much less packed in, and so there is a sense of spaciousness and serenity that I really appreciated. Near the entrance to the Jewish section there stands a small chapel, which Margaret refers to as the ohel--or tent. The structure apparently is as old as the cemetery itself, which dates back to 1868. The stained glass windows are just beautiful. I was also touched to see a plaque memorialising those from the community who had died in the Blitz and whose bodies had never been found. I met Julie and also Glenn, the caretaker of the cemetery. Glenn has exactly the right sense of humour for his job, and he is also clearly very good at what he does. He explained to me about the electric bier, which has been known to go rogue on occasion. This worried me a bit until I saw him wink at me. They both explained how much of the service would take place in the chapel, with the burial to take place near the end of the ceremony. I learned from Julie that no mechanical digging equipment is utilised at the ceremony; the graves are dug entirely manually! Funerals normally do not take place before noon to allow a minimum of four hours to prepare the grave. This family had consented to allowing me to bury old prayerbooks with their father. I brought along four large paper bags to go in the grave. Family members assisted with filling in the grave, and then the cemetery staff filled in the rest.
Armed with a pretty good eulogy and a copy of the prayerbook used for funeral services, I felt well prepared for the funeral—until I got there! Then I realised that I had very little idea of what to do. Should I have the congregation escort the coffin to the chapel or wait inside? At what point should we move from the chapel to the grave? When would we go back? I suddenly worried that there might be a dozen or more moments in the service when I might “get it wrong.” Each community has certain expectations of some rituals, and none more than funerals. I was so grateful to the kind member who reassured me that although I’d done it differently, that was completely acceptable. In the end, it was a beautiful experience for me and hopefully everyone else too. We had four generations of family members present, including a gorgeous six-month-old baby. More family members joined us on Zoom from as far away as Arizona. It felt like a wonderful celebration of a life well-lived.
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Leave a Reply.Rabbi Shoshana Kaminsky has been the rabbi of Beit Shalom in Adelaide, South Australia for the last sixteen years. She's very happy to be serving Birmingham Progressive Synagogue for the next three months.
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