The Man Who Faces Death Every Day: Inside the Life of a Morgue Manager in Israel

Death is something most people try to ignore. We repress it, avoid talking about it, and hope that if we don’t think about it, it won’t come. But death, for its part, is always present, quietly hovering in the background of life. Sometimes it bursts into our world with painful force, breaking through our illusion of permanence. Yet, amid all this, there are people who have chosen to face death directly — to do the difficult, often unseen work of dealing with it for the sake of others.

One such person is Eliyahu Ezra. He grew up in Kiryat Ono, attended the Torah U’Melacha high school in Tel Aviv, and after his army service began working as a hospital orderly at Beilinson Hospital. “The job of an orderly,” he explains, “is to transfer patients from place to place, from one test to another. After a while, I switched to other types of work, mostly in factories, but I missed the hospital environment. Eventually, I started working at Ichilov Hospital.”

“It’s hard to believe, but I’ve been here for many years now,” he continues. “I still work as an orderly, but several years ago, my supervisor asked me to take on another role, of managing the hospital’s morgue. I agreed and received full support from hospital management. It’s not a job that just anyone can do.”

The Holy Work of the Morgue

“Managing a morgue is extremely complex,” says Ezra. “You often face unbearably difficult situations — but it’s also a great privilege. It's a big mitzvah to bring the deceased to burial quickly and respectfully. That’s our main goal. Sometimes I even stay at work after hours because I care so much about doing it right.”

What does the job actually involve? “The work is very varied. The morgue here has 38 storage units. We receive the bodies of patients who pass away in all departments of the hospital  —including, unfortunately, children from Dana Hospital. We also often receive fetal remains and body parts.”

He explains that body parts are kept in deep freeze. “They can come from accidents, where limbs are severed, or from surgeries where a doctor removes something intentionally. If a patient had a limb amputated and later passed away, we reattach it for burial — unless the family objects.”

“After the deceased or the body parts are placed in storage, I make sure everything is carefully recorded — especially distinguishing between Jews and non-Jews, since burials are in different locations. Sometimes names can be misleading, so we need to be very precise. Jewish remains are usually buried in Be’er Sheva, non-Jewish ones in the Yarkon Cemetery, and fetal remains in Holon.”

The washing and purification of the bodies is done by other teams. Jews and Muslims perform tahara (ritual washing) at the cemetery, while Christians do it at the hospital. But we are always very careful to preserve the dignity of the deceased, even if it takes time before they’re taken for burial — especially in the case of foreign workers, where embassies need time to locate families.”

Facing Suffering and Loss Daily

“Everything I’ve said so far is the technical side,” Ezra admits. “But the truth is, this job is full of emotion and pain. There are moments that are simply unbearable. I often have to face families in the worst moments of their lives.”

He recalls one case vividly: “A woman came in to give birth. Everything seemed fine, but complications arose, and she delivered a stillborn baby. She begged to see the baby, received permission, and came to us. When she held the baby, she broke down in tears. A few seconds later, her husband began crying too — and I couldn’t hold back. I told them, ‘This must be a very pure soul who completed its mission quickly and returned to its Creator.’”

He remembers another painful case of a son who clung to his legs, refusing to let him take his mother to the morgue. “He wouldn’t let go. I sat with him, tried to comfort him, told him that this is the way of the world. The same thing happened once with a husband who refused to let us take his wife. She was young, with small children. In that case, I couldn’t say, ‘That’s the way of the world.’ Some things you never forget.”

Finding the Right Words

How does he find words in such moments? “I never received training for this. God puts the words in my mouth,” Ezra says softly. “Usually, there’s no psychologist with me. Sometimes, when someone dies in a traumatic event — like a terror attack, a mental health professional speaks to the family. But most of the time, I’m the one who has to be there for them.”

“When that happens, I just try to say the right things, to stand with them in their pain. They’re alone except for me, so I try to comfort and support them. But I also try very hard not to take the job home, because otherwise I couldn’t function — neither at work nor with my family.”

Living Among the Living

Ezra admits that his line of work sometimes creates discomfort among others. “Some people recoil, or even fear me when they learn what I do,” he says. “I’ve had barbers who, after hearing about my job, said, ‘I’ll cut your hair this time, but please don’t come back.’ Or people in synagogue who suddenly ask me not to sit near them. Some act like I’m the Angel of Death himself.”

He smiles faintly. “But I don’t get angry. I even understand them. It’s not easy to think about death. But we all face it eventually — after 120 years, everyone gives an account. We can’t run from it. So I think it’s important that people remember this truth, and live their lives accordingly.”