Los Angeles Jewish Home

Skirball Hospice chaplain Rabbi Aviva Winocur Erlick wrote an amazing article for The Jewish Journal. We decided to share it.

I work as an on-call hospice chaplain, and I am often paged following the death of a patient. I was called recently to support a rather large group who had just witnessed the death of a woman in her 90s, whom I’ll call Bea.

Bea had been not just a mother, a grandmother and a great-grandmother to family members, but a surrogate grandmother to others, who came to cry with the family.

I shared a prayer written to be read following a death, which includes the phrase: “even though her life was incomplete.”

Bea’s loved ones thanked me but then shared that they disagreed with the prayer. Bea’s life had been absolutely complete. There wasn’t a thing more that she or anyone else had wished she had achieved. They even showed me a video taken the morning of her death. Bea could be seen speaking calmly from her bed, wishing blessings to all of her loved ones, by name. She was clearly at peace with her circumstances and wanted everyone to feel the same.

This week’s portion, Chayei Sara (The Life of Sara), actually begins with her death. The second sentence of the portion reads: “Sarah died in … Canaan; Abraham began to eulogize for her, and to weep for her” (Genesis 23:2).

Commentators often take time this week to eulogize Sara, too. As it says in the Talmud, “Three days are for crying, and seven for eulogizing.” Weeping is essential, but eulogizing, telling the story of a person’s life, must not be put off too long. It is essential to the grieving process to experience both our sadness at the loss, and our faith that the life lived was good, worthy of recollection, an inspiration going forward.

The first sentence of the parasha seems to teach this point. To translate literally, it says: “And the life of Sara was the 100 years and 20 years and 7 years of Sara’s life” (Genesis 3:1).

Why the odd repetitiveness? Rashi, a medieval commentator, writes that it is because all of Sara’s years were equally good. The Sfat Emet, a Chasidic teacher, adds that this doesn’t just mean that no days were especially bad. For a righteous person, no day is any less spectacular than the most amazing day of one’s life. Every year, every day for Sara, was fantastic!

So how do we square this with what we know about Sara’s life: the pain of famine; the disgrace of having to bed local kings to save her husband’s life; the frustration of waiting into her 90s to birth Isaac; and the humiliation of growing to despise, and eventually evict, her servant Hagar and her husband’s first son, Ishmael, from their camp?

Apparently, despite all these hardships, Sara was also consistently happy. According to Jewish teachings, happiness is not the result of good news or pleasant circumstances. It is a matter of perspective. “Aizeh hu ashir? Hasameach b’chelko,” it says in the Mishna: Who is rich? The one that is happy with his lot.” Similarly, the Psalmist writes, “Mi haish hechafetz chayim? Ohev yamim lirot tov.” Who among you loves life? The one who wants to see good all his days.

Sara lived every day as a good day not because good things happened, but because she wanted to see them this way. She chose to be satisfied, to find reason for gratitude — as Bea did even on her deathbed. It is a mental exercise that these women model for us all, both on the physical and spiritual planes.

Being “happy with our lot” usually brings to mind the idea of being aware of, and satisfied with, our circumstances. If we choose to, we can find opportunities to appreciate, rather than take for granted or be chronically discontent. Call it an “attitude of gratitude,” a mindfulness practice or a legacy in the making.

Beyond this is the question of calling. Our “lot” or “portion” could just as easily mean our truest work, our destiny. God speaks to our hearts, and if we listen, we can live God’s work through our own. Sara served as half of the partnership that founded our religion, helping her husband Abraham to teach the word of the One God. According to Rashi, when Genesis says the couple traveled with the “souls they had made,” it meant the people who had been won over to the faith that was yet to be named Judaism. Sara was a Teacher of Israel.

May we all learn to live the life of the righteous taught by Sara and by Bea. When we pass away, may there be many who gather to weep, eulogize and dedicate their lives to what we taught, just by how we chose to live.

Shabbat Shalom.



The Skirball Hospice is a program within the Los Angeles Jewish Home's continuum of care.

Labels: Chaplain, Chayei Sara, Complete, Cross Post, Death, For the Spirit, Hospice Care, Jewish Journal, Life, Rabbi Aviva Winocur Erlick, Share, Skirball Hospice, Staff, Torah

Cross posted from the Daily News.


By Al Martinez, Columnist

The came like an army of saints, sometimes in multiples and sometimes one at a time.

Their mission was simple but compelling: to get us through a time of grief and anxiety.

I sing today of the Skirball Hospice program, medical personnel and volunteers working out of Encino to bring comfort to the dying and their families, in their homes, in rest homes or in hospitals.

They came to our house when doctors and chemo and machines could do no more for our daughter Cindy, who died last week of cancer.

Their job wasn't to keep her alive but to ease her gently into heaven without pain or the discomforts that often attend a person's last days. They bathed her, medicated her, prayed for her and held her hand.

One can imagine that kind of caring on a battlefield where a solder lay dying of his wounds in the blood and dust of combat, and being cared for by a medic or a hospital corpsman, because cancer too is a ruthless and mighty enemy with killing fields of its own.

The concept of hospice care is rooted in the 11th century as an element of moral compulsion to tend the terminally ill. Skirball Hospice began in Los Angeles in 2001 as a program for the Jewish Home funded in part by the Skirball Foundation. Its services are offered to the terminally ill and families 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Caring never sleeps.

We knew of them from Cindy's doctor, who recommended that she be placed under home hospice care, which is what she wanted, close to the things she loved, including three cats, Tigger, Sarah and Star, who rarely left her side.

A social worker came first, explained the insurance-covered, nondenominational program and then was followed by a multicultural army of nurses, assistant medical personnel, bathers, various other attendants and a rabbi. They were African-American, Asian, Latino, Russian and Caucasian. It didn't matter to them what our ethnic mix was. It never matters at Skirball.

Then came the drugs at various times, the morphine and tranquilizers and whatever else was required to sedate our daughter in her final weeks and to keep her free from pain. There came a hospital bed, too, a portable toilet, oxygen and items I've probably missed in the bustle of the process.

Some staff members appeared in person periodically and others as needed, responding to telephone calls deep into the night. They were there for us all in the final days of Cindy's life, holding our hand as well as hers.

When it became clear that the final moment was approaching, they sent a woman to bathe her and sit by her side until the night and the essence of Cindy merged at 1:35 a.m. I will be ever grateful to the hospice group members for the grace and gentility they displayed in guiding her into eternity. They are special.

Al Martinez writes a column on Mondays and Fridays. He can be reached at almtz13@aol.com.


Read the original column here.

Labels: Al Martinez, Cancer, Caregiving, Cross Post, Daily News, For the Spirit, Hospice Care, Jewish Home Services, medical staff, nurses, Palliative Care, Skirball Hospice, Staff, Volunteer