Why G-d created dogs

Towards the end of his career, Rabbi M. Robert Syme, of blessed memory, would often ask me to take him on Shiva calls, which I was more than happy to do. Once, a longtime member and dear friend of his died and the family asked him to officiate. The deceased had a grandson who was six and a half years old and was described to me as being very sensitive, wise beyond his years and very curious about death. Rabbi Syme suggested that the family contact me and arrange a meeting and tour of the Chapel to help the child make sense of his grandfather's death.

As I sat with this young boy, I wondered where this glowing assessment came from, as he appeared to barely listen, asked no questions and seemed disinterested in any discussion involving his grandfather's life, his death and Judaism's approach to life after death. Although he came to the funeral, I saw little of the gifted child described in my initial meeting with his parents.

Rabbi Syme and I visited the home where Shiva was being observed. As Rabbi Syme sat down, the boy approached us with information that I hadn’t known about. “My dog died,” he announced.

As I began to comprehend the reason behind the child’s previous silence, Rabbi Syme asked, "What was your dog's name? What kind of dog was he?"

For the first time since meeting this young boy, I saw his eyes light up. He described his dog with an enthusiasm not previously shown in the discussions about his grandfather. When the boy finished telling Rabbi Syme about his dog, Rabbi Syme asked him, “Do you know why G-d created dogs?” The crowd gathered in the family room stopped all activities and conversation. You could have heard a pin drop.

The boy responded, as I believe everyone in that room might have, with, “No, why did G-d create dogs?” Rabbi Syme answered, “There are three reasons. First: dogs teach us how to give unconditional love. You can be mad, furious with your dog and he will still snuggle up with you through your anger, regardless of the seriousness of what indiscretion he might have performed. Second: dogs teach us humans how to receive unconditional love. I have noticed that when families go through illness and bereavement, the family dog is there through thick and thin, giving and receiving love at a time when we need it most. And finally, and most importantly, dogs teach us how to lose.”

The boy looked puzzled and said, “I don't understand.”

Rabbi Syme continued, “You see, the average person in the United States lives about 78 years. The average dogs lives 11 years. What dogs teach us is we can bring them into our family and love them unconditionally from puppy to old age. And when we lose them, as difficult as it is, we can reflect on the gift of love given and received, shed our tears, cherish our time we were blessed to share, and realize that life, as difficult as it may seem, must go on. This is why G-d created dogs.”

The silence in the room spoke volumes. As we left the home, you could sense that everyone who shared this experience felt enriched by this exchange between a young child and his Rabbi. As we buckled our seat belts, I looked at Rabbi Syme and demanded, “Where did that come from? That was brilliant!”

Rabbi Syme explained that, when rabbis are posed a question for which they have no answer, they respond by writing a sermon. Once he was asked by a young child, “Why did my dog die? Didn't G-d love my dog?” Rabbi Syme didn't remember his exact response, only that he felt it was not something he was comfortable with. So, he wrote and delivered a sermon later entitled, “Why G-d created dogs,” a sermon he continued to deliver and one that has probably been repeated by everyone who was in that family room that day.

“What happens to bodies in the ground?”

In 1989, while I was being treated for cancer at the University of Michigan Comprehensive Cancer Center, I received a call from an elementary school in Northville. The staff asked me to speak to the school after a beloved teacher had lost her battle with breast cancer.

As was my usual routine, I talked about what had happened and how we could memorialize this teacher in a meaningful way for the school and her family. When I opened it up for questions, the theme seemed to go in the one direction of this subject that made me uncomfortable - what happens to the body in the ground? I was used to answering openly and honestly almost any question I asked, but the concept of explaining decomposition to a large group of elementary school students made me a bit uncomfortable.

I left feeling frustrated that I couldn’t respond to these questions with the same ease that I felt these kids deserved. When I arrived at my appointment at the hospital that day, I shared my frustration with my oncologist. He offered to call a professor who, he promised, despite his lack of bedside manner was a gifted teacher he was sure could help me handle this topic.

I met the professor in the cafeteria and he looked at his watch, signaling he was in a hurry. I explained the experience I had just come from and he said, “So, you want to know what happens to the body in the ground?” I confirmed that was my goal.

Here is the conversation exactly as it happened.

“Our bodies consist of two-thirds of what?” “Water,” I quickly replied.

“What's the other one-third?” I thought about it for a brief moment and somewhat guessed, “Bones.”

“All right, let's review what we've learned. Your body consists of two-third’s water and one-third bones. What happens when water sits still with nowhere to go?” he asked. “It evaporates,” I replied. “What's left?” “Bones,” I responded and then he asked, “Can I go now?”

I was stunned that the one issue that caused my only sense of discomfort could be explained so easily. As he walked away, he turned around and added, “Oh, by the way, make sure they know it doesn't hurt!”

In my blog, “Helping parents tell kids the truth about death,” I stated that the difference between physical death and spiritual death is that, with physical death, it is fact: there is no mystery. The only mystery for me was this explanation and, in less than 60 seconds, that was solved.

Talking to kids about spiritual death

In my previous blog, I mentioned that, if you are able to distinguish between Physical Death and Spiritual Death, you are most of the way home to a message that a child can comprehend. Physical Death is fact: there are no mysteries and we understand it. You should experience little difficulty in explaining the concept of "THE BODY STOPS WORKING." Spiritual Death is an entirely different story.

Spiritual Death has no simple road map to navigate. Your definition of what you believe happens when someone dies is your individual belief - no one else’s. So, ask yourself: “What do you believe?” and you will have your answer to the mystery of spiritual death. This is your explanation and no can claim you are either right or wrong: it is simply your belief.

As I have been telling kids for 30+ years, I have been involved in thousands of funerals and no one has ever called, written, faxed, texted or twittered back to me exactly what lies ahead when our time on earth comes to an end. So, just how do you explain spiritual death? Although your own approach likely will be necessary for a complete explanation, here is mine.

If I see Steve and Nancy at a restaurant and I know them, I can approach them, say hello and ask how things are going. How am I sure that these two people are Steve and Nancy? How do I know WHO they are? By their appearance!

So, I explain to kids that, when we bury someone, we bury the WHO of the person who has died. When we walk away from the grave, what we take with us is the WHAT of the person that died - what he meant to you as a grandfather; what he meant to your mother as a father; what he meant to your grandmother as a husband. Those are relationships that are exclusive to each person. That relationship was yours and is yours for the rest of your life. When you think of that person for any reason, his spirit is there with you. Death changes a relationship; it doesn't end a relationship.

A very important thing to remember is that you probably have a different view of spiritual death than your spouse and other members of your family. It might be wise to examine those different ideas, so you can present them as your beliefs, your husband's beliefs, your mother's beliefs, etc. Respect each of these beliefs as individual and never as right or wrong.

I very seldom can get out of a room or a class without being asked what I personally believe. So, here is my belief: My wife and I had a daughter who died in January of 1978 at eight months old. I explain that, although I can't necessarily define it, I do believe in something beyond the grave. I can't believe that our only contact with Alicia was her time on earth. I do believe we will be reunited. I can't prove it, but I believe it. I feel the same about my mother and father and other relatives who have gone before me.

This is my belief, I can't prove it and, as I tell the kids, if I'm wrong, I've been wrong before and I'll be wrong again. I just won't be able to tell anyone about it.

Helping parents tell kids the truth about death

In discussing with parents what approach to take with their children, it is very revealing to find out what, if anything, they have told them. So, when we finally come face to face, either at home or at our chapel, I usually ask the kids if they know what happened that brought us together. “Grampa died.” “Gramma went to Heaven last night.” Whatever explanation is offered, I am well on my way to simplifying the concept of "physical death."

“Let me explain what has happened – your Grandfather's BODY STOPPED WORKING: His heart stopped beating and his brain stopped working, so nothing in the body works. He still has eyes, but he can't see; has a nose, but can't smell; has a mouth- can't talk, can't eat; has ears, can't hear; doesn't have to pee and poop any more.”

When a young child hears that Grandfather doesn't have to pee and poop any more, they realize he's really dead.

“Why doesn't Grandpa need his body anymore? Because it doesn't work. We don't need his body anymore. Why - it doesn't work. So, we have to do something with the body. Do we hide him in a closet, put him in the basement, or the trunk of a car? What do we do with the body?”

Most children are aware of the answer to that question, but they and their parents have never really considered this one: "Why do we bury people?"

The answer? “We have 6.8 billion people who live in the world today. But there have been hundreds of billions of people who have lived before us. If we didn't do something with the body after it stopped working, you and I would live in a world of dead people!”

After a chorus of Yuks and Oooohhhh's, a very simple explanation of physical death has been achieved.

What makes it easier to explain physical death and to comprehend it is that physical death is a fact. We understand it; there are no mysteries connected to physical death. We know what happens to the body over time.

In my next blog, I will tackle a far more complicated concept of death, that of "Spiritual Death," what people BELIEVE happens when a person dies - is there a heaven, a soul, an after-life?

Is my child too young to attend his grandpa’s funeral?

How old is old enough? How young is too young? I am asked these questions constantly by parents trying to determine if their child should attend a funeral.

Although I am aware of a child's age being a factor to take into account, a far more important consideration is the relationship between the child and the deceased. Are there older siblings attending the funeral? The reality is that I have met four year olds with greater maturity than some six year olds. There are six year olds I feel more comfortable having attend the service than some who are eight. This is why I have made it a practice to meet face-to-face with children and explain what happens from the time of death until the time of burial. I will tell them not only what goes on, but also discuss why, often introducing them to a tradition that has been the cornerstone of our faith for generations.

Let me make a very important point. By interacting face-to-face with the children, I may be looking at them, but I'm also talking to the parents. Many times, the parents are hearing about these traditions for the first time, along with their kids. Prior to their visit, parents will express concern about whether their child could possibly deal with the concept of death. My response is, "What is it that you understand about death that your child doesn't?" My job in that meeting is to offer clarity to everyone in that room, regardless of age.

What is it that kids are afraid of? The same thing that adults are afraid of: the unknown. Over the next several blogs, I will discuss Jewish tradition in a way, hopefully, that will make you appreciate the beauty of a tradition we’ve handed down, “L'dor V'dor,” from generation to generation. I will explain the concept of “physical death” and “spiritual death” and how, by separating the two, you will find a compass that can guide you for years to come.

Finally, I will share the gifts I have received from the 30 years and thousands of kids who have continuously challenged me and reinforced the importance of being open and honest, even when our instincts may suggest otherwise. I cannot put into words the feeling I get when mothers or fathers ask me to take their kids on a tour of the chapel and proceed to relate how they remember decades ago when they themselves sat, listened and toured our facility. Their memories are still with them of how they were prepared and encouraged to attend a funeral when, years before, their own parents were not given that opportunity.

Involving children in the grief process

I was recently asked to explain my passion for involving kids when their family suffers a loss. This blog will not only explain the roots of my interest in this subject, but also will be the beginning of a series intended to assist parents in helping their children navigate through what is often a painful and confusing time.

I was nine years old when my grandfather Samuel Techner died. Samuel was lovingly known to his family as "Pa Sam" and was a larger-than-life figure to me growing up. As his health began to deteriorate because of leukemia, it was obvious that his days might be numbered. Initially, my brothers and I could visit him at Sinai Hospital. Then we were able to speak briefly on the phone with him. Eventually, it became a situation where my parents would report back to us that Pa Sam was very weak, but the doctors felt they could make him better.

I came home from school one day and saw many of my aunts’ and uncles’ cars outside. Sadly, I concluded that Pa Sam's battle with leukemia had come to an end. I walked into the house and learned that I was correct - Pa Sam had, indeed, died. Incredibly and inexplicably, my parents had chosen not to tell my two older brothers or me that Pa Sam had died, and the funeral and burial had already taken place. My parents had concluded that a full seven-day shiva period with morning and evening services at our home was all that was required for my brothers and me to get through this time.

My brothers and I, along with our similar-age cousins, had far more questions than we had answers. And yet, there seemed to be no one to help us understand what happened, why he died and even where he was buried. Nobody. Death was just not talked about in 1960. Pa Sam's dying left a void, not only in my life, but also in those of so many grandchildren, nieces and nephews who had loved and admired him.

When the opportunity arose for me to become the third generation of this proud family business, I couldn't help but think of the only significant loss I had experienced to date. Ironically, my family had been served by the business I was about to join. I knew that the way Pa Sam's grandchildren had been treated many years before was not a standard I felt comfortable with. I applaud Ira and Herb Kaufman for their support and in taking a bold step in unfamiliar territory for the funeral profession. They put their faith in a 23-year old with a great deal of passion, but little experience in the industry and, from then on, children’s feelings became an important consideration in the way deaths are handled here.

A dear friend of mine, Rabbi Harold Loss once said, "If out of something negative comes nothing positive, consider it a wasted opportunity." I think of Pa Sam each time I am privileged to sit with a grieving family and their children, and hope to help them understand the process and the traditions that have guided us for generations.

What do we do with leftover food from the shiva tray? Ah, the eternal question!

The Jewish people have always got one thing right – the tradition of sitting shiva following the death of someone. We gather together as a community, providing strength and support of friends, family and neighbors, to help the bereaved get through the process of grieving. It is cathartic and enables the mourners to set time aside to dwell on the passing of the loved one, before picking up the "busy-ness" and stress of normal daily life.

Those who have sat shiva or have visited a shiva house know there are several rituals involved. Who hasn’t noticed the pitcher of water outside the open front door for those returning from the cemetery; covered mirrors; the memorial candle; and low chairs for the mourners? Serving a meal of condolence (seudat ha-havra'ah) to mourners upon their return from the cemetery is a message from friends that life must go on.

And what would a shiva be without the ritual of food? Most pivotal moments in Jewish life, from a baby’s bris, a youngster’s bar- or bat-mitzvah, to Shabbat and holidays (except fast days), incorporate eating. Food is a tried and true component of both happy and sad times. It’s comforting and universal.

At a typical shiva home, friends generously band together and organize shiva trays to be delivered from area caterers and delis to the bereaved to free them from cooking. In some cases, the family is given several trays over the course of the shiva period. The food is traditional, with cold cut platters and hot meals being the norm. It is meant for the family, although some will invite visitors to eat with them.

There is often plenty of food left over and it seems a waste to throw it away. But, before you package some up for tomorrow’s lunch at your own house, be aware it is not proper for visitors and other family members to take food home from a shiva house. Is there an alternative?

Certainly there is. It is acceptable and commendable to donate the food to a charitable cause. There are several area soup kitchens that would appreciate it. . Contact them and arrange to drop the food off to them. Some of their clients may never have tasted kugel or latkes before, but thoroughly enjoy them, I’ve been told.

Updating my Dad

As Father's Day approached and the 29th anniversary of my Dad’s death is about six weeks away, I was thinking about bringing him up to date over lunch. The conversation might go as follows:

“How's my cute little grandson Ari doing?”

“Ari was 16 months old when you died, Dad and he's now 30, married, expecting his first child, our first grandchild and your first great-grandchild.”

“What does he do to support himself?”

“He and your other grandson Chad, who’s 28, own a golf club manufacturing company called Scratch Golf. They started it from scratch and have become a force in the golf industry worldwide.” I envision my dad smiling from ear to ear, not only for their apparent success, but having two Techners successfully working together.

“Just the two boys?"

“No, Dad. We also have Stephanie. She's 23, has her degree in Sustainable Agriculture, manages a farm and she and her boyfriend have dreams of owning their own farm.”

“Does she even look like her mother?”

“Hard to tell their high school graduation pictures apart.”

“Your mother must be proud.”

“Yes, Dad, she was proud. Mom died peacefully six years ago after a decade-long battle with Alzheimers. She loved those kids.”

I would then tell him of his other two sons – my brothers – his four more grandchildren and how each is in a very good place. He would have been so happy to know the Techner name was going strong.

“Dad, brace yourself with this news. This country just elected its first black President. Gas is at $3.00 a gallon, down from $4.00 a gallon last summer. Remember General Motors? It’s in bankruptcy court and was taken off the New York Stock Exchange because the value of its stock no longer warrants a place on the exchange. Chrysler is also in bankruptcy, but it looks like Fiat's going to own them. Oh, and Merrill Lynch, the company that handled your stocks, is gone. Bunches of banks and insurance companies have imploded - the government’s trying to save them by pumping a couple hundred billion their way to save them -that's billion with a B.”

Dad asks me about the device was on the table. “It's a cell phone, Dad. I can virtually call anyone anywhere in the world on it. Oh, I can also email and send texts all over the world. It's really pretty handy.”

“Where's the wire to hook it up?”

“That's why they call it a cell.”

I can see he is overwhelmed. I want to tell him about 9/11, but what is the point? I just hope that, knowing we are all well, he can rest in peace, assured that his legacy to his family is safe.

Smoking Regulations at Home and Abroad

When I asked my son Ari what he wanted for his 30th birthday, he replied, “A golf trip to Scotland with my father.” Great strategy for, if he had said a golf trip to Scotland with a friend, what would have been my response? This seemed rather doable.

As I contemplated previous trips to Europe, I recalled the difficulty of visiting places in countries with no restrictions on smoking where seemingly everyone smoked. I have been a non-smoker my entire life and am quite uncomfortable when someone lights up within smelling distance of where I am sitting.

To my absolute delight upon arrival, I learned that Scotland had now become a non-smoking country, as least for public buildings, restaurants, hotels and other public venues. I can report a fabulous trip with incredible golf, great memories and only one offense with the whole smoking issue. That was my caddie at St. Andrews Links, as he sauntered the course rolling his smokes with a parade of jokes that made him a walking comedian.

I left asking myself why Michigan is unable to enact laws with the same restrictions? I wonder why non-smokers must be subjected to second-hand smoke, when it is hard to refute the argument that it is dangerous to those exposed to someone's burning cigarette or cigar? I pray on behalf of my children and grandchildren that the legislators of Michigan find a way to join the many states and nations that believe their citizens are entitled to clean air in public places.

David Techner, Funeral Director

Marable’s Legacy

The funeral announcement started off simply: “Marabel Chanin, 88, of Detroit, died on 26 December 2008.” It then went on to say, “The funeral was held at Graveside on Thursday, 21 May 2009 at 2:00 PM. Rabbi Harold Loss and Cantorial Soloist Neil Michaels officiated.” Why, you might ask, was the funeral date almost five months later? After all, aren’t most Jews buried within a few days of death?

Marable was one of those people who fall through the cracks. Somehow it happens, a sad reminder of today’s busy, less personal world. She lived alone in Detroit and died alone of natural causes, the only person on her street, away from family and friends – so much so, that her body lay unclaimed in the Wayne County Morgue for months. It wasn’t until a distant relative saw a story about her on Fox 2 and put two and two together, that her passing could be properly celebrated.

And what a moving ceremony it was! Somewhat strange, but very moving. Not one person who attended actually knew Marable and most weren’t Jewish. They came out of respect for her, because they didn’t want her to be buried unheralded, without anyone caring.

Something needs to be done for all the Marabels out there, Jews and non-Jews alike. Brad Edwards from Fox 2, Phil Douma who is the executive director at the Michigan Funeral Directors Association (MFDA), and I are currently working with MFDA on an initiative to get all unclaimed bodies identified and buried. We are hoping to have funeral directors donate their time and a basic casket. Maybe that will be Marable’s legacy – to help set in motion a community effort where nobody dies alone or is buried alone. In fact, the first step is underway: a fund is being set up with donations that were given in Marabel’s honor to be used to help other individuals like her.

David Techner, Funeral Director

Out of Town Arrangements

A husband and wife walked in to The Ira Kaufman Chapel the other day to pre-arrange their funerals. They are in perfect health and have been spending winters in Florida for a little more than a decade. This winter two of their inner circle of friends in Florida died unexpectedly. It left them uneasy and feeling very unprepared about what to do if they were suddenly in the same position.

Their two children live out of town and they had not selected cemetery space. Their biggest question was, if death occurs in Florida, whom do they call first - the Florida funeral home or The Ira Kaufman Chapel?

My answer to them was to contact us. We would call our colleagues in Florida with whom we work regularly. I took statistical information required for a death certificate as well as what is required these days for newspaper notices. They had no interest in selecting or paying for their funeral ahead of time, but left assured that, if something were to happen, they were armed with the knowledge and confidence to navigate through the experience. I am certain they will also encourage some of their other friends to prepare themselves for a contingency like this.

David M. Techner
Funeral Director

Is the Funeral Industry Recession-Proof?

It seems appropriate that one of my earliest blogs should be about the economy, since that seems to be first and foremost on everyone's mind these days. We are facing an unemployment rate approaching the highest it has been in my lifetime, the Dow reduced to half its worth in a very short period and real estate numbers a fraction of what they were just a few years ago. Confidence in the future is at an all time low.

In discussing a recession versus a depression, an MSNBC host was asked to explain the difference. "When your neighbor loses his job, it's a recession. When YOU lose your job, it's a depression. Whatever your definition, the one certainty is that our community is experiencing great pain.”

Almost daily someone will tell me, either when I am out in the community somewhere or at the Chapel, that the funeral business is one not affected by the economy - a recession proof business. Think about this for a moment. We meet and interact with families experiencing pain. Never has there been a time when people have come to us hurting so deeply in addition to the grief they are experiencing over the loss of their beloved family member. As in every business, we face challenges in continuing to offer services that have meaning while being sensitive to economic hardships facing our entire community.

David Techner, Funeral Director

A Funeral Director On Blogging

A funeral director blogging on his funeral home’s Web site. This is nothing I could have ever imagined when I graduated from Mortuary School 35 years ago. Yet, what a wonderful opportunity to inform, to educate and to share ideas, while the community is navigating The Ira Kaufman Chapel Web site seeking the time of a funeral, shiva information or where a family wishes contributions be directed in memory of their loved one.
 
As I begin my journey in the blogosphere, I ask for your input. If you would like me to blog about any particular topic, let me know. My greatest fear is that I will run out of things to write about. My wife and children assure me there is no danger of this happening. Just in case they happen to be wrong, feel free to email me with your thoughts, dmtec51@msn.com

David Techner, Funeral Director