It’s the very end of Genesis, and it’s the end of Jacob’s life. It’s the end of our story as it’s told about a group of families, before we move into the community formation of Exodus. Jacob is about to die, and he brings his son Joseph close to him, asking one final favor. He asks Joseph to make a promise that he will treat Joseph with “chesed v’emet.” It’s followed by the specifics of that, a promise that Joseph will bury Jacob in Canaan with the other ancestors and not in Mitzrayim, where Jacob will die.
But this phrase itself is rare - chesed v’emet. Kindness and truth. The commentators teach us that emet - truth - means the things we are obligated to do, and that chesed - kindness - is going above and beyond. The context here is burying, honoring, and showing love for the deceased, and indeed, that’s what these words have come to mean in our tradition. Because we call the mitzvah of taking care of the dead a “chesed shel emet” - a kindness of truth, or the truest form of kindness. It’s the most giving act we can carry out, knowing there is nothing received in return. We don’t just bury because it’s the right thing to do, we go the extra mile to tend to people, in their last physical moments on this earth, with the greatest form of love, of kindness, of care.
I’ve thought about these words often in the last several weeks as our community has had several deaths. Loving family members, community pillars, threads in our tapestry of who we are as a people. And it feels only right that the way we engage with them at the very end is through abundant love. In telling their stories. In carefully and lovingly putting dirt on their grave, even if it’s in the pouring rain. In preparing a body for burial. In getting a home ready for shiva. In feeding the family of mourners. Deaths are never easy; they nearly always feel sad even if they aren’t tragic. And one way that we can give ourselves comfort is knowing that we went above and beyond, that we offered someone the greatest chesed, the greatest kindness, in the last moments when we could.
These words - chesed v’emet - they don’t show up very many times in the Torah, but one of the other times is one we know well. On holidays we recite, over and over, “Adonai, Adonai, El rachum v’chanun, erech apayim v’rav chesed v’emet.” We declare that God is one who is full of chesed v’emet - kindness and truth. We recite these words repeatedly in the hopes that if we remind ourselves of Godly attributes, we too might embody them. So in these last several weeks when we have offered such loving, attentive care to beloved community members, we have not just treated them in the way that is expected of us. We have not just treated them with kindness. We have treated them in a Divine way. We have cared for them in the way we imagine God caring for people. And for that, I feel a small amount of comfort. Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Sarit
