“Six months into my mid-career rabbinic ordination program at The Shalom Hartman Institute, I received a phone call from my very secular Israeli cousin sharing some sad news. ‘Niv’ (all names are changed to protect privacy) let me know that my sharp-witted, stylish, impossibly daring aunt Dina had passed away. Would I perform the funeral? He asked. It would be in the secular section of a private Ramat Hasharon cemetery, beyond the jurisdiction of the state rabbinate. Though I am an academic based outside of Boston, I was in Jerusalem for the first of three ordination program summer intensives. I called a rabbi friend, crammed in as much knowledge as I could, put on the only button-down shirt I had with me – white, unfortunately – and took the early train the next morning
My cousins are the kind of Israelis American Jews like me hold in awe. My newly-widowed uncle, Yishai, is a successful businessman who greatly distinguished himself in the military in the ‘60s and ‘70s. His quiet authority left room for Dina’s outsized personality; she was so bold and charming she once walked into a random party at a posh hotel and walked out arm-in-arm with Queen Noor…”
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