Who Is A Jew?:The Question of Patrilineal vs. Matrilineal Descent

The Status of Children of Mixed Marriages

They say if you ask 2 Jews a question, you’ll get 3 answers. But when it comes to the question of what defines a person as a Jew, that’s a whole other story….Is it one who is born of a Jewish mother only? Or is it when either parent is Jewish? What becomes of the status of children born to mixed marriages when one parent is Jewish and the other is not? Is it DNA or is it defined as one whose heart follows and observes Torah?

These questions will you get an array of answers, opinions and a whole slew of controversy over the subject and depending on what branch of Judaism you follow, is yet another interpretation….

But a bit of research has uncovered some explanation of why for centuries a person’s status as a Jew was decided through the patrilineal line (e.g. Abraham, Isaac and Jacob) and then became the defining factor in who was a Jew through the matrilineal line somewhere after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 A.D.  Read some of the excerpts below from the Reform Movement.

The following is an excerpt from the Report of the Committee on Patrilineal Descent adopted on March 15, 1983 (Reform Movement’s Resolution on Patrilineal Descent)

“Both the Biblical and the Rabbinical traditions take for granted that ordinarily the paternal line is decisive in the tracing of descent within the Jewish people. The Biblical genealogies in Genesis and elsewhere in the Bible attest to this point. In intertribal marriage in ancient Israel, paternal descent was decisive. Numbers 1:2, etc., says: “By their families, by their fathers’ houses” (lemishpechotam leveit avotam), which for the Rabbis means, “The line [literally: 'family'] of the father is recognized; the line of the mother is not” (Mishpachat av keruya mishpacha; mishpachat em einah keruya mishpacha; Bava Batra 109b, Yevamot 54b; cf. Yad, Nachalot 1.6).”

“In the Rabbinic tradition, this tradition remains in force. The offspring of a male Kohen who marries a Levite or Israelite is considered a Kohen, and the child of an Israelite who marries a Kohenet is an Israelite. Thus: yichus, lineage, regards the male line as absolutely dominant. This ruling is stated succinctly in Mishna Kiddushin 3.12 that when kiddushin (marriage) is licit and no transgression (ein avera is involved, the line follows the father. Furthermore, the most important parental responsibility to teach Torah rested with the father (Kiddushin 29a; cf. Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De-a 245.1).”

To read the full text go to: Source: http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Judaism/patrilineal1.html

The following is an excerpt from the responsum on this subject from the Central Conference of American Rabbis (Reform), the full text of which may be found through this link: http://data.ccarnet.org/cgi-bin/respdisp.pl?file=38&year=carr

“We should contrast the rabbinic position to the view of the earlier Biblical and post-Biblical period. Patrilineal descent was the primary way of determining the status of children in this period. The Biblical traditions and their early rabbinic commentaries take it for granted that the paternal line was decisive in the tracing of descent, tribal identity, or priestly status. A glance at the Biblical genealogies makes this clear. In inter-tribal marriage paternal descent was likewise decisive (Nu. 1.2, l’mishpehotam l’veit avotam); the line of the father was recognized while the line of the mother was not (mishpahat av keruyah mishpahah, mishpahat em enah keruyah mishpahah, B. B. 109b; Yeb. 54b; Yad Hil. Nahalot 1.6, etc.).”

“We should also recognize that later rabbinic tradition did not shift to the matrilineal line when conditions did not demand it. Therefore, the rabbinic tradition remained patrilineal in the descent of the priesthood; it was and remains the male kohen who determines the status of his children. The child is a kohen even if the father married a Levite or an Israelite. Thus lineage was and continues to be determined by the male alone whenever the marriage is otherwise proper (M. Kid. 3.12; Kid. 29a; Shulhan Arukh Yoreh Deah 245.1).”

“Kriah” or Rending a Garment in Grief

The ancient practice of tearing clothes is a tangible expression of grief and anger in the face of death.

Reprinted with permission from The Jewish Mourner’s Handbook (Behrman House), by an editorial committee chaired by Rabbi William Cutter.

Kriah is a Hebrew word meaning “tearing.” It refers to the act of tearing one’s clothes or cutting a black ribbon worn on one’s clothes. This rending is a striking expression of grief and anger at the loss of a loved one.

Kriah is an ancient tradition. When our patriarch Jacob believed his son Joseph was dead, he tore his garments (Genesis 37:34). Likewise, in II Samuel 1:11 we are told that King David and all the men with him took hold of their clothes and rent them upon hearing of the death of Saul and Jonathan. Job, too, in grieving for his children, stood up and rent his clothes (Job 1:20).

The child, parent, spouse, and sibling of the deceased perform the act of Kriah. It is usually done at the funeral home before the funeral service begins. If a black ribbon is used, the funeral director provides it. Kriah is always performed standing. The act of standing shows strength at a time of grief. A cut is made on the left side of the clothing for parents—over the heart—and on the right side for all other relatives. Sometimes people choose to express deep feelings of grief by cutting on the left side for relatives other than their parents.

As the tear or cut is made, the family recites the following blessing:

Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam dayan ha’emet.

Blessed are You, Adonai Our God, Ruler of the Universe, the True Judge.

The torn garment or ribbon is worn during the seven days of Shiva (but not on Shabbat and festival days). Some people continue the practice for the 30-day period of mourning (Sheloshim).

(c) Behrman House, Inc., reprinted with permission, www.behrmanhouse.com.

The Meaningful Tradition of Unveiling a Monument

The custom of placing a monument over the grave of a departed person is a very ancient Jewish tradition. The Book of Genesis, for example, records that Jacob erected a tombstone (Matzevah) over the grave of his wife Rachel. From Biblical times onward, wherever Jewish communities have existed, Jews have continued this practice of erecting a memorial in honor of their deceased.

The monument is erected to indicate clearly where a person is buried, so that family and friends may visit the gravesite. It is also a way of remembering and honoring the memory of the person who has died.

Today, we refer to the ceremony of formally consecrating a tombstone as an “unveiling”. While this ceremony has no origin in pre-modern Jewish life, this has become an acceptable practice today.

An unveiling takes place during the first year after death. There are no strict guidelines for the timing of an unveiling, and, while families may choose a date at any time after the end of the Shiva, it has become a contemporary practice to schedule this ceremony for some time between the end of Shloshim, the thirty day period of intensive mourning, and the first Yahrzeit, the anniversary of a death.

Psychological Function of the Unveiling

The unveiling is a mourning ritual which serves a very specific function in the healing process of the bereaved. It is not simply a perfunctory ritual, but rather, like the funeral, Shiva, Shloshim and Kaddish, the unveiling provides mourners with the opportunity for emotional and psychological healing.

The physical act of erecting and unveiling a monument allows for the expression of the sad and painful emotions of grief. Family members gather together, often from cities which are miles apart, and continue their mourning as a family, lending each other comfort and support in dealing with their grief.

For individuals who were not able to attend the funeral or Shiva, the unveiling ritual provides yet another opportunity to grieve and to acknowledge one’s loss. Although painful, this realistic experience of grief can, over time, be very healing for mourners.

During the unveiling of a monument, as one sees the name of a beloved family member etched in stone, there is a stark realization of the finality of death. The impact can be quite jarring to some, and yet, at the same time, can provide a further opportunity to accept the reality of the loss. Thus, the unveiling ritual allows mourners to face death and loss realistically, and to affirm a commitment to life and to living.

The unveiling also allows the bereaved family members to honor and to recall the memory of their departed. It is a chance to continue to reflect upon the significance of that person’s life, his or her accomplishments, and the people who were important. In a sense, through the unveiling, the memory of a person’s life is etched permanently into the collective memory of the Jewish community

The Unveiling Service

The service for the unveiling of a monument is a short and simple one. It consists of the recitation of several Psalms; the actual removal of the veil from the memorial; the recitation of the Malei Rachamim (the Memorial Prayer) and the Kaddish. A Minyan (a gathering of 10 Jewish adults) is required for the recitation of Kaddish; however, if there is no Minyan available, the Kaddish is omitted.

At the unveiling it is certainly appropriate for a family member to choose to speak about the person who has died, or to read a supplemental poem or prayer.

Many choose to appoint an officiating rabbi to conduct the unveiling, however, this is not mandatory. The JCAM office has information on how to conduct an unveiling. Please feel free to contact our office and request and unveiling packet to guide you in this important and meaningful ritual.

My First Taharah

My First Taharah

by Anonymous

Imagine for just one horrible moment that you have died. Your soul is hovering over your body, and you are frightened and confused. “What is going on? Am I dead? What happens now?” You see two strangers come in and start preparing your body for burial. At this point, you realize that in order to meet your Creator in perfect purity your body must be prepared a certain way, and they are doing it all wrong.You want to beg them to send you to your destination prepared correctly, but no one hears your pleas.

This is not a nightmare. It is a true story, and I felt that this was what was going to happen to my husband’s beloved aunt.

She lived and died in a small town where there was no chevra kadisha (”holy society” that prepares Jews for burial in accordance with Jewish tradition), and due to circumstances beyond our control, there was no way to transport her body to a place where she could be prepared properly. So I was left with a choice: I could either allow her be buried in a state of impurity, or I could perform the taharah (purification process) myself…

Performing a taharah was definitely the most frightening thing I had ever contemplated doing I’m the type of person who can’t look at a dead animal, let alone see a person who has passed on. I always speed up and look the other way when I pass any type of accident, and refuse to watch scary or violent movies. I even faint at the sight of blood. Performing a taharah was definitely the most frightening thing I had ever contemplated doing, but denying her a proper Jewish burial was out of the question.

My husband and I live in Miami, and were scheduled to leave for the town where the funeral was to be held before sunrise. I knew Jews were prepared for burial in a very special way, but had never really wanted to know how this was done. Now, I had to learn how to perform a taharah in the next few hours. I called my rabbi, and he referred me to a woman, who I now think must be part angel.

She took me to a funeral home for a “taharah crash course,” and just walking through that door was torture for me. There, she gave me the ritual instructions, and a video in which a taharah is performed on a dummy, and gave me the supplies I needed. After this, she took me to see a body that was ready for burial, but I found myself unable to enter the room where the dead body was, and all my doubts and fears started haunting me. If I could not see the body of a person I did not know, how in the world was I going to be able to see my sweet aunt’s? I told the woman to just explain the ritual and prayers to me and that I would somehow muster the courage later. Seeing how distraught I was, she offered to help me at the site by guiding me on the telephone every step of the way. What a brilliant idea!

Still shaking I went home, read the ritual instructions and prayers many times, and watched the video with the dummy, until exhaustion.

As soon as I went to bed, my heart and mind start racing. I did not sleep for one second that night, and as soon as my husband woke up I told him I could not do it. Again, we started to look for alternatives. We called more rabbis, more associations and more foundations, to no avail. There was no option, other than letting her be buried impure, than doing it myself.

A person cannot perform a taharah alone. The ideal number of people is four, but in this case, that was not an option either. The only other Jewish woman who could help me was my sister in law, and she was even more fearful than I was. There was no choice and she bravely volunteered. I could see the pain in her eyes. She loved her aunt dearly and having lost her was hard enough. It was a long road trip, so I, the taharah “expert,” had enough time to explain the procedure to her.

We arrived at the funeral home and watched the video for the last time. Before we went inside the prepping room, I took a moment and prayed to G‑d with all my might. I asked for courage, love, light, guidance and every positive thing I could think of. I begged G‑d to help me perform this ritual perfectly so that the deceased could enter her heavenly home in purity. Then, my sister in law and I entered the chamber. At that moment I realized my cellular phone had no service, and I panicked. How was I going to call my “angel-woman”? I found a telephone, connected it, and it worked!

Until that moment I had not even dared to look at the covered body on the other side of the room. I called my support lady, put her on speaker phone, and started the taharah.

It seemed as if my soul had taken over and knew exactly what to do As soon as we started the ritual and the corresponding prayers, I went into a daze and started feeling a special love; peace and serenity encompassed my whole being. Everything flowed perfectly. It seemed as if my soul had taken over and knew exactly what to do. I wasn’t afraid to look, or touch, or do anything. I was doing something beautiful and so very important. The last act of kindness!

When we finally finished and left the room, my husband told us we had been in there an hour and a half. It seemed like only a few minutes, as if we had surpassed time and space.

After the funeral, when I finally had a moment to think, I remembered that I had been taught that preparing a body for burial was the ultimate act of kindness, because you can never expect anything in return from the deceased. But in this case, I felt as if I was the one that benefited most of all. What an opportunity it was for me to learn about our totally awesome religion and what is really important in our life. I am a different person since that day, and I hope that G‑d will help me deserve to stay this way.

When I got home, I felt as if I needed to encourage everyone to do a taharah if necessary, and this is the reason I wrote this true story. Believe me, if my sister in law and I were capable of performing a taharah, anyone can. It is not scary or gory, and our fears are much worse than performing the act itself. It is an incredibly beautiful spiritual experience, and nothing can be more important than sending off a soul to join G‑d with love and caring, and pure again. Every Jew has this right, and we should never allow another Jew to be buried without a proper taharah. If even one Jewish soul is buried with a taharah because of this story, sharing this experience has served its purpose….

Jewish Cemetery Etiquette

Jewish Cemetery Etiquette

The following is an excerpt from Author Maurice Lamm’s highly respected book, The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning.

The subject of proper conduct at the cemetery is generally neglected. The consequence of this neglect is, frequently, gross impropriety and a super-abundance of superstition. There are two basic principles that can serve as a guide to correct Jewish etiquette on a cemetery. These are:

Kalut Rosh (”Levity”)

The holiness of the cemetery is equivalent to the holiness of the sanctuary. Our actions within its confines must be consonant with the high degree of this holiness. Also, because the graves in the cemetery are places from which we may derive no benefit at all, we are restricted from lounging in the area. Kalut rosh is a spirit of levity and undignified behavior. Under the category of the prohibition of kalut rosh, the following points must be observed, and should be followed not only at the gravesite, but within the boundaries of the entire cemetery.

1. Eating and drinking may not take place on the cemetery. This holds true for unveilings as well! The frequent, but unfortunate, frivolity that marks such occasions should certainly be discouraged. It is a violation of every code of honor.

2. Dress should be proper to the occasion and the place. One should not dress to impress relatives who attend. When one visits the cemetery or the grave of a deceased, it is certainly not the time for scant or frivolous-looking dress, athletic attire, or work clothes.

3. One may not step over or sit on the gravestone that directly covers a grave. One may, however, sit on seats near the graves or on roadside railings and gates.

4. Flowers that, perchance, have blossomed on the grave itself may not be picked for use at home. Naturally, trimming the grave is permissible and commendable.

Lo’eg Larash (”Slighting of the Dead”)

As noted previously, indulging in pleasurable activities, even religious observances, that the deceased or any of the other occupants of the graves once enjoyed participating in, but now cannot, represents a “slighting of the dead.” Thus:

1. One should not study Torah, or recite the Psalms, or conduct formal, daily services within approximately six feet of a grave.

2. One should not carry tefillin or a Torah with him into the cemetery.

Memorial Gifts

Those who wish to honor the dead, or their survivors, may do so in a genuinely religious spirit. They may bring a token of their esteem with them during shiva or send it through the mails.It is not in keeping with the traditional spirit for this memorial gift to be flowers or fruits. It is more significant and more useful to contribute a sacred article for synagogue or school use. This might include Bibles, prayer books, scholarly works, Torahs and Torah ornaments, etc. These will usually be acknowledged by the synagogue or school immediately so that the mourners will be notified of the gift during shiva. Donating to charities at the time of the funeral is an ancient Jewish custom. The custom has three roots in our tradition:

• The biblical verse, “Charity saves one from death,” is meant to be taken not only literally, but in the spiritual sense, that one who is evil is not considered to be truly alive. Charity saves from “spiritual death.” The association of charity and death here is a direct one.
• Charity symbolizes the unity of all Israel. Contributions of time and effort and substance for the good of the community are expressions of unity. At the funeral it symbolizes the anguish felt in common by all Jews for the family of the deceased.
• The mystical tradition, embodied in the Chapters of Rabbi Eliezer, says that because of charity will the dead be resurrected in the world to come.

It is in the spirit of dignity, and in keeping with Jewish tradition, to make such contributions as memorials to the dead, rather than to bring outright gifts to the mourners. Naturally, if the deceased felt close to a specific charity, such as a medical research program, it might be wise to contribute to that fund. The memorial gift may be selected by the giver or left to the discretion of the mourners.