Facing Finitude

While it's true that much of life is uncertain, one thing we can all be sure of is that one day, our lives will end. We don't know how or when it will happen (hopefully after many happy years), but it will happen. How can we possibly prepare for this ultimate change? Judaism offers us several models. Below, we share some of our favorite Jewish teachings. We've learned so much from studying them together and invite you to find a friend, discuss these options together, and see what comes up for you. One way we prepare for our end is by reflecting on death every year on Yom Kippur.

Yom Kippur is our tradition's holiest day. Once a year, we live through a symbolic confrontation with death that is designed to focus our attention on life's fragility. Many Jews dress in white as a reminder of traditional Jewish burial shrouds, which are also white garments. In synagogue, we recite the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, which includes a detailed list of the ways one might meet their death in the coming year ("…who by water, and who by fire…"). Our tradition doesn't stop at an annual High Holy Days reverie. The Talmud shows us that even our Sages wrestled with how best to prepare for death.

One of the most beloved stories from the Talmud begins like this:

Rabbi Eliezer told his students, "Repent one day before your death."

They asked, "Does a person know which day they will die?"

Rabbi Eliezer responded, "A person should repent today, for perhaps tomorrow will be the day." (Talmud, Shabbat 153a)

Different individuals take away different lessons from this. We suggest exploring it with a study partner (chevruta). For Rabbi Laura Geller, this story urges us to live fully; for Rabbi Beth Lieberman, the passage emphasizes the importance of acting in good faith. The Talmud could also be considered an example of yet another way we can prepare for the end of our lives: sharing our wisdom with future generations.

Passing on our knowledge is an incredible gift to those we love. Rabbi Lieberman shares this story:

My grandmother, with whom I was very close, used our conversations through the years to pass on some of her worldly knowledge. One memory in particular stands out: I was in my twenties, crying into the phone as I told her about a recent breakup. She listened to me for what seemed like an eternity as I sobbed and sniffled between my tortured words. Then she said, "there are plenty of other fish in the sea, but there is only one you, and the right one for you is out there somewhere. I know it."

Aside from the happy fact that she ended up being right, my grandmother gave me a tremendous gift: the understanding that every one of us is unique and carries a beautiful music in our soul that allows us to connect with others in meaningful and important ways. This belief is now a part of me, one unforgettable example of my beloved grandmother's most cherished values and beliefs.

We can also pass on the legacy of what we have accomplished and learned by writing an ethical will or "forever letter" - a letter to those we leave behind, passing on our ethical values and ideals.

Ethical wills go back to the biblical story of the patriarch Jacob blessing his sons on his deathbed. The tradition of leaving instructions or wishes for future generations continued over the centuries in different forms. Parents wrote letters to their children to prescribe a set of behaviors and religious practices that would help them live meaningful lives. Today's ethical wills are part of a long tradition of Jewish practice.

Rabbi Elana Zaiman, in her book "The Forever Letter," teaches a modern way to do this:

Communicate what we believe to those we love . . . to share our personal experiences, histories, and stories, to highlight our values, to forgive and to ask for forgiveness, to state hard truths, to state our ultimate truth, [and] to offer blessings.

Zaiman emphasizes what is important to keep in mind while writing a forever letter:

We do this not to convince [our loved ones] to make the same choices in their lives that we made in ours, though we might hope they do (. . .) We do this to explain ourselves, to connect, and to make an offering of love that we hope will help our words to be heard from a place of love.

So, put these time-tested strategies on your bucket list:

• Reflect on the symbolic confrontation with death on Yom Kippur.
• Listen to our Sages: act as if today were your last, delving into the "how" and "why" with a study partner.
• Share your values, beliefs, stories - and advice, love, and blessings - with your loved ones.
• Create an ethical will to pass your knowledge and experiences to future generations.

Remember: for this transition, like so many other difficult experiences, Jewish tradition is here to help guide us.