Teshuva and the Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, Ha'azinu / Shabbat Shuva 5781: Rabbinic Intern David Chapman

We are nearing the end of the Aseret Yamei Teshuva - the ten days of teshuva, return. Tomorrow night, we will recite Kol nidrei, and in about 36 hours, we will conclude Yom Kippur with the Ne’ilah service as we imagine the gates of teshuva closing. 

Right now, though we are still in limbo.  The Talmud offers us the image of three books opening on Rosh Hashanah -- There is the book of completely wicked people - rasha’im, who are immediately sealed for death, the book of completely righteous people, tzaddikim, who are immediately sealed for life, and then … there is  the sefer shel beinonayim … the book of people in the middle.  

Does anyone remember the movie Airplane?  There’s a great bit where the flight attendant comes through offering reading material. A woman asks “Do you have anything light?”  And Julie Hagerty says, “How about this leaflet, “Famous Jewish Sports Legends”?  That’s how I imagine the two books of completely good and completely bad -- basically leaflets. But the third book, of people in the middle, is like the encyclopedia.  That’s all of us, right?  We’ve had moments of tzaddik and moments of rasha.  For us, the judgment is suspended during these ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

During these days:  We ask ourselves, what have we done in the last year that we regret.  What are we holding on to that is no longer serving us?  How can we use these 10 days as an opportunity to wipe the slate clean? Those three books spoken of in the Talmud can be helpful metaphors. We don’t have to believe that we will literally be struck by lighting to ask, What is the effect of considering this in-between time as a matter of life and death?

We are nearing another conclusion as well, and another story about life and death: Parshat Ha’azinu, which we read this week, is the second to last portion of the Torah.  Moshe -- as we know, and as he knows -- is nearing death.  Indeed, the beautiful poem that comprises most of this parsha, sometimes called the Song of Moses, is uttered on his last day on earth.  All of Deuteronomy, in a sense, is Moshe’s attempt to prepare for his death.  He issues final instructions, offers blessings, warns of curses, and ties up loose ends before he takes his final breaths.  

It is fitting that our Jewish calendar superimposes the life-or-death consequences of Yom Kippur against the backdrop of Moshe’s last days.  

Every culture on earth has a different approach to preparing for death. It’s well known that in most Western societies, we push death offstage. We don’t want to think about it or see it.  Yom Kippur briefly brings death -- or a ritualized version of it -- back into our line of vision.

But there are completely different approaches -- cultures that normalize preparing for death.  One approach has taken the form of the latest home-cleaning fad:  Yes, I’m talking about the Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.

This is the title of a book and a method by Margereta Magnussun that has swept the country over the last year. (Have any of you heard of it?)

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning is … exactly what it sounds like: cleaning up your stuff to prepare for your eventual death.  Magnassun’s approach is the opposite of Marie Kondo’s method of decluttering, which had its own moment a few years ago.  Marie Kondo asked us to hold up each object we own and ask “does this spark joy right now?”  And if the answer is no, you throw it away.  How many of you Kondo’ed, or half-Kondo’ed or quarter-Kondo’ed, your homes when it came out?  I think I about ⅛-Kondo’ed.

The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning is a bit different -- You don't ask, does this spark joy for me right now, but rather -- is this something that someone will want after I die?  Every single item you own must pass that test. Anything that doesn’t -- better to throw it out yourself, so your loved ones don’t have to later on.

This may sound incredibly morbid -- it did to me at first.  But Magnusson tells us that Swedish Death Cleaning is not supposed to be a sad activity.  It’s about the legacy we hope to leave on earth. It’s about how we want to be remembered. It acknowledges the truth that Moshe knew so well -- some of our work will remain unfinished. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try -- as Moshe does in our parsha -- to tie up the loose ends as well as possible.  Despite its name, Swedish Death Cleaning really isn't about death at all.  Like Yom Kippur, it seems like it’s about death, but it’s actually about life.  In both cases, preparing for death helps us clarify how we want to live today.  

We will, G-d willing, make it through the fast.  And after that, it’s up to us to live out the changes we’ve been promising to make.

Magnussun gives us several steps to complete our Swedish Death Cleaning.  Each step connects to this season of teshuva, and to the end of Moshe’s life.

Step 1) Be Mindful of time.

According to Magnusson, the time to start this work is now, no matter your age or your state of health.  Our Jewish calendar gives us several concentric circles of time to complete our teshuva.  There is the day of Yom Kippur, itself.  There are these 10 days of teshuva. Then there is a longer arc that begins at Rosh Chodesh Elul, when the shofar blasts begin.  Then there is an even longer arc, from Tisha b’Av in August through to Hoshannah Rabba at the end of Sukkot in October, which is when we believe that the gates which started to close at Nei’lah finally shut.  And if that’s not enough, the Talmud records Rabbi Yosei saying that we are judged by God every day.  And not to be outdone, Rabbi Natan insists it is actually every hour.  The point is, we don't have to wait for a certain day on the calendar to do teshuva, to make positive change in our lives.  Just like we don't need to wait until we know death is coming -- not that we can ever know -- to start cleaning.  The time to start can be right now.

2) Ask for advice and enlist help.

In Swedish Death Cleaning, this means don’t go it alone.  Get help before you tackle that hall closet you’ve been avoiding.  Ask a relative, “Do you think anyone else will want my high school yearbooks?”  At the end of his life, Moshe confers his authority to Joshua, his appointed successor.  And in our High Holiday liturgy, we confess our sins in the plural and ask for forgiveness in the plural, because we know we didn’t get here alone, and we can't get out of here alone.

3) Destroy and preserve.

Magnussun instructs us to throw away things that would embarrass us if they were found after our deaths.  This might seem like revisionist history but in fact it’s about telling your story in a way that makes you proud.  Moshe does this plenty of times.  He retells some stories on the plains of Moab a little differently than how we hear them the first time around.  Some of these revisions cast him in a more positive light.  But his goal is not simply vanity.  Moshe feels he has to impart this Torah, these instructions, to b’nei Yisrael before they cross into the land.  

He presents a certain version of himself in order for that teaching to be accepted and followed. In this parsha, he reminds Israel that they must “keep and do all the words of the teaching.  For it is not an empty thing for you, but it is your life.”  And although he says “your life,” we understand that he means his own life as well -- his legacy is bound up in our future. Who are we telling our story for?  How do we want those we have touched to remember us? What lessons have we taught that we hope will shape others for the better?

Step 4) Keep an organized home.

After you complete your Swedish death cleaning, you might say, “That’s it: I’m never accumulating clutter again!”  But of course, most of us will.  Similarly, when we hear that final blast of the shofar Monday night, we know in our hearts -- at some point, probably soon, we will misstep again.  I once knew a guy who ate a ham sandwich for break fast, just to get it out of the way - the idea of a completely clean slate was too stressful for him.  

But the lesson of Yom Kippur isn’t that we should be perfect.  Rather, let the lesson be that we can make teshuva anytime.  Teshuva can be an ongoing practice, like keeping a clean home.  A little bit of “returning” each day to keep ourselves on the path, so you don’t end up at the end of your life with a closet full of teshuva that you never got around to.

Rava, the great sage of the Talmud, offers a list of questions that he imagines we will be asked at the gates of judgement. Most of his questions seem straightforward.  Were you honest in your business dealings?  Did you set aside time for Torah?  And so on.  But his final question resonates with me the most. Hevanta davar mitoch davar?  Literally: did you understand the thing within the thing -- in other words, did you discern what was important, and what was not?

Swedish death cleaning and this season of teshuva both can help us understand the davar mitoch davar -- the thing within the thing. What is important and what can we let go of. What serves our story, and what are we ready to cast off?  We can learn from how Moshe approaches his own death at the end of the Torah.  Badavar hazeh, through this thing, Moshe says, you will extend your days on earth.  But we are surrounded by things! Which “thing”?  That is for each of us to determine ourselves.

I wish for us all to be inscribed in the book of tzaddikim, the book of life, the book of clean homes and whole hearts in this coming year.

Shabbat shalom, G’mar chatima tova.