The Day of Praise

For as long as men and women have been being born, they’ve had birthdays. Birthday parties are not that ancient, but they do go back at least 3,500 years (the book of Genesis mentions a banquet in honor of a Pharaoh’s birthday back in 1534 BCE). The interesting thing about birthday celebrations is that, for much of our history, they were not in vogue.

This is not to say that there are no sources in Torah hinting at the necessity of celebrating one’s birthday. True, the Talmud speaks of the specialty of a person’s date of birth as a time of empowerment and opportunity for him or her. And one of the most important days of the Jewish year is Rosh Hashanah which commemorates mankind’s birthday. But as a rule, Jews did not celebrate their birthdays. In fact, while the dates of passing (yahrzeit) of the great figures of Jewish history are recorded and commemorated, their dates of birth are mostly unknown.

King Solomon gave voice to this attitude when he said, “Better the day of death than the day of one’s birth.” On the face of it, this seems a rather negative view of life. But upon deeper contemplation, this sentiment expresses the classical Jewish attitude that, “Deed is the paramount thing.” Simply stated, man’s true worth and significance has to be measured by actual achievement, rather than one’s future potential. True the newborn infant may be brimming with genius and talent, but he or she has not yet done anything with it. So what’s there to celebrate? Who’s to know whether the potential will be realized? Or that is will be utilized toward good and G-dly ends?
In fact, even if potential was so important, the birthday would still not be the time to celebrate. Since many months before the fetus emerges from the womb, it already has hands and feet, a throbbing heart and a thinking brain. Perhaps, the party should start as soon as we get the news of pregnancy! (Obviously not!)

In contrast, the day of a person’s passing is the culmination of his or her mission in life. This is when the sum total of his or her achievements have been actualized, so that they wield their combined influence on our lives. This is why the yahrtzeit of a great person, such as a tzaddik, is such a special occasion: for when we celebrate a life, we do so at its point of greatest impact upon the world.

I would like to offer another perspective concerning the day of death. As many have pointed out, the term yahrzeit, is not Hebrew, but rather a Yiddish term that cannot be more than a thousand years old. There does exist however another term to describe the final day of life, and while not of the Holy tongue, is much more ancient - “Yom Hillulah”. Literally, the name means, “Day of Praise.” How can one explain this unusual term?

Albert Einstein is reputed to have remarked, “The illusion that we are separate from one another is an optical delusion of our consciousness.” You look at yourself and you look at me, and you see two entities. But matter is not really “solid” or clomped in bodies; it is a vast amalgam of infinitesimal points, each exerting a complex web of forces and counter-forces on its fellows. A “human being” is no more or less a distinct entity than an atom in his body, the planet he inhabits, or the universe as a whole.

Physically, there is no real division between your body and mine. But there is a deeper reality than that described by the laws of physics. At the heart of the Torah’s vision of life is the idea that every individual human being has a soul, a distinct spiritual identity, and a distinct mission in life.

This is what comes into its own on the day of one’s passing. Not one’s physical existence, not their vitality, and not their potential. While the neshama always exists, is alive, thinks and feels, it is smothered by the needs of the body. It can only hear that which the ears catch. It can only see that which the limited eyes can perceive, etc. While it may in reality be a distinct entity, a thing unto itself, it cannot act on its own. Thus the soul’s passage from the body marks the point at which your soul regained its freedom.  More importantly, it fused with the source of all souls, Hakodosh Baruch Hu, the One Above.

All of this brings us into an interesting paradox. The human being while alive craves individuality. This deep seated desire operates so that the body is unencumbered by social responsibility. While it is true that there are other drives within man that lead him to commit himself to familial or communal relationships, they are not spurred on by the body, but rather by the soul. It is that spark of holiness within us that wishes to connect to a spouse, a child, a friend.

So the physical body wants to be an isolationist free to pursue its hedonistic values, yet it cannot ever rid itself of other people or society imposing and butting in, On the other hand, the soul wants nothing more than to cleave to its heavenly abode, from whence it was sundered from all of its fellow souls, and it cannot do so because it is imprisoned by the limitations of the body.  All of this changes the instant the body releases its stranglehold on the soul. Not for ourselves, but for the soul we thus revered this as the “Yom Hilulah - Day of Praise”.