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What I learned from my mother's last years.
For the last six years or her life, my mother was incapacitated, lying in bed on a feeding tube in a quiet corner of a nursing home. Beyond her room, a battle raged.
As infections and issues cropped up, the doctors begged us to not pursue aggressive treatments. They said she was already a sick woman and it was time for her to go. But we are Orthodox Jews who were committed to navigate this situation by adhering to Jewish law, just as we do for every part of our lives. Consulting with our rabbis, we pushed for the same treatment that would be given to any other patient and fought with the doctors.
Some would look at the doctors as heartless, only concerned about money and looking at my mother as waste of resources. Others would look at us as pigheaded and shallow. We were wasting our money and energy when there was already no hope.
I viewed it that we were two compassionate, sensitive parties, trying to navigate an extremely tough situation from vastly different mentalities.
In secular society, what matters is not life, but quality of life. Religious Jews have a different perspective.
In secular society, what matters is not life, but quality of life. Life is meant to be enjoyed and relished, and a life without enjoyment is nothing. Keeping a woman who is incapacitated and depleting resources alive isn’t only wrong – it’s cruel. As much as the family would emotionally like to hold on, they must come to terms with the painful facts. Their loved one is no longer enjoying life, and the family’s money and emotional energy would be better spent elsewhere.
Religious Jews have a different perspective. Life is about spiritual accomplishment, becoming part of God’s plan to perfect ourselves and the world. From that frame of mind, no life is insignificant. Every single moment can be used to create eternal effects.
From a short time into her illness, my mother was badly impaired, hardly the picture of accomplishment. However, those who followed my parents during those trying years would see clearly a world of accomplishment.
As the disease progressed, my mother lost most of her abilities and, arguably, her free will. Along with them went her inhibitions. How she acted could not have been to impress others or gain – she didn’t have the capacity to think that far. It came from a very deep and ingrained place – a place that we all have but are too concerned with looks and propriety to get in touch with. And what we saw was beautiful.
We saw a woman who still clearly believed in everything she believed in before. She had the same dedication to her ideals, the same passion for Shabbat, prayer, and Judaism. We saw her love and care for our father and for us. And we knew, because of her state, that what we saw wasn’t a show – it was real.
Even after she became completely incapacitated and could no longer walk, talk, or show us her dedication, she became the catalyst for so many others to grow. My father’s dedication – making daily visits to a woman who did not know he was there – showed again how deep a marriage can go and the honor that every individual deserves.
Our community stepped up to the plate time after time to be there for our family. And our family itself grew and pulled together in ways we had not previously imagined. Had we followed the advice of the doctors, much of this would not have happened.
Please don’t misunderstand me. We did not seek to grow at the expense of another’s pain, nor did the rabbis follow a protocol of death must be avoided at all costs, where pain and suffering are not factors. Every situation is unique and requires careful rabbinic guidance. The advice and decisions made took compassionate factors into account, and we were not afraid to let go when the time was right. Emotion and pain were vital factors in the decisions, and so was the sanctity of every moment of life.
I will never forget something my brother said. We opted to perform a delicate, lifesaving procedure after intensive consulting with a leading rabbi. While waiting nervously for the results, we wondered what others would do in such circumstances when they do not have a clear-cut protocol to follow. “I assume they make the best guess,” my brother said, “and I am sure that there are times when it haunts them for the rest of their lives.”
By following Jewish law for end-of-life decisions, we gained direction and peace in a complex world.
The doctors were professionals dealing day in and day out with pain and death; they were experts in their field trying to navigate the new moral challenges that medical advances have created. I am confident that they were striving to do their best with the current information and worldview to make the right decisions.
But history is littered with ideas that seemed progressive at the time and horrible in hindsight. From the rise of mental institutions in the 1700s to eugenics in the 1930s to the questionable psychological experimentation that occurred during the 1950s and 1960s, we are reminded of the limits of our intellect to make the right choice. We need to the clarity of Divine guidance that the Torah provides.
By following Jewish law for end-of-life decisions, we did not feel we were being controlled or “trapped” by an ancient creed in a modern world. On the contrary, we gained direction and peace in a world that is ever more complex via a tradition that has lasted millennia. During this incredibly tough situation, we made principled decisions that my mother would have been proud of, and it has given me a measure of peace in this confusing world.
A version of this article appeared on the Times of Israel Blogs
We need to remember that our souls have a hidden, subconscious life that runs alongside our conscious, physical life. Both are real. Sometimes what looks like a low-quality life from our perspective can actually be a high-quality life for our soul, and vice versa.
Our baby fell into a coma just three days after being born and was put on life support. We sought guidance from a world-renowned rabbinical expert on end-of-life issues. He advised us on when to agree to a DNR. Our son passed away five months later, and although it was an incredibly painful time, we never doubted that we did the best thing for both his body and soul.
Beautiful, wonderful, THANK YOU
I urge everyone to have this discussion with their loved ones about care BEFORE you need it. I urge everyone to have notarized documentation about what type of care they wish to receive so their wishes will be carried out accordingly.
Totally blessed to have read this article.
I noticed, not once in the article did an opinion take their mother's
situation from her point of view, the discomfort and if aware, trapped
existence. At the time jewish orthodoxy was conceived there was no nasal tubes, hospitals with life saving methods of keep people alive,
and simple keeping someone alive in this manner was not the intent
and was not available. I think this is selfish and self righteous confirmed by no mention or thought as to what would have been a normal death. In the 21st century it is possible to keep people alive
through intervention and maybe this is a quality one should learn to review in the times we live in. Being able to put yourself in others people shoes is a strength in many often overlooked. I frankly thought the family sounded egocentric.
I agree with you completely.
Thank you for your comment.
Your point I think is addressed more directly in the blog post linked at the bottom of the article and here https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/the-comfort-of-halacha-what-i-learned-from-my-mothers-last-years/.
While I cannot agree that the Orthodox Jewish approach to end of life issues was simply "conceived" at a certain time (as an Orthodox Jew I believe it is Divine), I do agree that being able to put yourself in someone else's shoes is an important strength.
Wow. I find that astounding. That someone would think a family putting themselves through the agony. pain and hardship of caring for a very sick, incapacitated, elderly parent is egocentric. Wow. Fascinating.
Right on
Wonderful!
"And we knew, because of her state, that what we saw wasn’t a show – it was real."
Thank you, dears, for your story.
I wish to tell you something important.
Because you truly and selflessly loved your mother fully, what you truly were seeing in her was her soul. HaShem let you see this wonder and marvel.
Bless HaShem
My elderly Mother previously had health challenges.. and was then admitted to hospital numerous times.. EACH time this happened I was asked about a Do Not Resuscitate order.. I FLAT out REFUSED to sign one.. The CHUTZPAH was appalling.. I forced them to do their jobs and diagnose what was wrong and to treat it effectively.. and they are looking at me like "your kidding".. I was NOT kidding.. My Mother is B'H" with us and is enjoying her life tremendously and yes she is thank G-d VERY old.. and she comes sailing with us EVERY weekend.. She lights the candles and makes the Brocha every Shabbat.. She accompanies us to shul.. and her few remains friends in assisted care facilities live vicariously though HER adventures.. She is a big part of OUR lives.. and we make very sure she enjoys herself
Blessings of peace and good health to your amazing mother. She is blessed to call you her child.
Your mother is very lucky that CPR wasn’t necessary. The broken ribs would have caused her horrific pain. I would not submit my loved one to this and make them suffer. The hospital should have explained this to you.