The Shulchan Arukh, Jewish law code teaches, “We bury non-Jewish dead and comfort their mourners so that we follow the ways of peace” YD 370.1.2010. This week I did something that seemed natural to me. I facilitated and officiated at my first non-Jewish funeral. I didn’t hesitate. The 90 year old was the mother-in-law of my ritual chairperson. She wasn’t Jewish. She was supportive of her son-in-law and her daughter raising her grandchildren as Jews. She had attended Bnei Mitzvah, weddings, funerals. Even the annual Chanukah latke lunch and the 120th anniversary brunch. She hadn’t been to church recently although she was anointed in the hospital.

When I learned she was in the hospital last week, taken unresponsive while we were in services last Saturday, I knew I would spend Saturday night or Sunday morning at the hospital with them. When my ritual chair asked me to say a few words, well actually uncharacteristically more than a few words, I didn’t hesitate. Whatever you need.

Then I thought about the consequences. Would people judge us? I decided I didn’t care. Would people assume that they got better care than someone I know less well? Again I didn’t care. I would do this again, again under the right circumstances.

Our tradition teaches that “These are the ways of the Holy One: “gracious and compassionate, patient, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, assuring love for a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin, and granting pardon.” (Exodus 34:6). This means that just as God is gracious, compassionate, and forgiving, you too must be gracious, compassionate, and forgiving.” (Sifre on Eikev) It continues, “Follow the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 13:5). What does this mean?…The verse means to teach us that we should follow the attributes of the Holy One…As He clothes the naked, you should clothe the naked. The Bible teaches that the Holy One visited the sick; you should visit the sick. The Holy One comforted those who mourned; you should comfort those who mourn. The Holy One buried the dead; you should bury the dead. (Sotah 14).

It doesn’t say, only the Jewish sick, only the Jewish bereaved, only the Jewish dead. This, then, is the definition of compassion: visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved, burying the dead. This, then is what community does, reaches out and offers comfort.

After I offered or accepted, then I started to think. “What would the neighbors say?” “How could I make everyone feel comfortable?” “What would be most meaningful to the family–all the family?” I called my good friends, a UCC pastor and an Episcopal priest, a senior rabbi. All of them have been ordained for some 40 years each, so lots of experience. None of them had been asked to do a funeral service for someone not in their tradition. All of them thought it was possible. No one thought it was wrong. All were helpful.

Do you know that the outline for a funeral service is nearly the same. “Use Psalm 23, the Lord is my shepherd, and Psalm 121, I lift up my eyes to the mountains.” I was told, “Sometimes I use, “There is a time to be born and a time to die,” or a Woman of Valor.” There is a committal prayer. I chose to use “The Lord’s Prayer”, the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples and which is based on traditional Jewish prayers. I figured that would comfort the Catholics that were sure to be present. I have had it memorized since a 7th grade Hebrew School retreat where we learned a rock version. Of course, I stumbled over which is the Catholic version and which is the Protestant version. I am still not sure I picked the right one.

In all traditions, part of the function of the funeral is the eulogy, the telling of the stories about the person who died. It is part of how we keep their memories alive. It is part of how we keep them close.

Judaism teaches that burying a loved one is the last act of compassion, since it cannot be repaid. My hope is that by my congregation and me opening our hearts to people who were grieving we showed compassion, compassion without judgment and that we brought the family comfort.

Was it easy? Not entirely–more because I was worried that it would be comfortable for everyone. One person did say, “I didn’t realize she was Jewish.” another said, “I have never seen a rabbi lead the Lord’s Prayer.” The preparation took me a little out of my own comfort zone. Would I do it again? You bet. It was compassion. It was comfort. It was the right thing to do.