"A Job Not Everyone Can Do": Interview with a Mortuary Manager

Death is an issue people try to ignore, suppress. If we don't think about it – surely it won't come. Yet it remains a constant, unseen presence in our lives. Sometimes it intrudes powerfully and unwillingly. Despite this, there are those who choose to confront it face-to-face and deal with it for the greater good.

One of these people is Eliyahu Ezra (53), divorced and father of three, residing in Bnei Brak. Raised in Kiryat Ono, Ezra attended the "Torah and Craft" High School in Tel Aviv, and after military service, he worked as a porter at Beilinson Hospital. "The job of a porter is to transport patients from one place to another, from test to test," Ezra recounts. "After some time at the hospital, I took on other jobs, mainly in factories, but I missed working in a hospital, so I started working at Ichilov."

"It's hard to believe, but I've been here for 28 years. Even today I work as a porter, but a few years ago, my direct manager appointed me to also manage the mortuary. I agreed, and received the support of the hospital management for this role. It's a job not everyone can do.

Managing a mortuary is a highly complex job, frequently dealing with unbearably difficult events, yet it is also a tremendous privilege. There is a great mitzvah in bringing the deceased to burial as quickly and respectfully as possible. That's our main goal here. Sometimes I even stay at the hospital after work because it is very important to me to do this job as well as possible."

What is the actual work in the mortuary like?

"The work here is very varied. The mortuary has 38 compartments. We receive those who pass away in all hospital departments, including, unfortunately, children from 'Dana' hospital. Beyond that, we often receive bodies of fetuses, as well as body parts.

"We store body parts in freezing compartments. Body parts can come from accidents where different parts are severed, or controlled surgeries where certain parts are disposed of. By the way, if a person undergoes an amputation, and then passes away, the limb is attached to the body so they are buried together. However, sometimes the family objects to this, and in such cases, it doesn't happen.

"Once the deceased and body parts are placed in the compartments, I'm responsible for very orderly records. We must avoid mistakes about who is Jewish and who is not. Confusion can easily occur here because many names can fit both Jews and non-Jews. This is crucial as they are buried in different places. Usually, Jewish body parts are buried in a special section in Be'er Sheva, and non-Jews' parts are buried at the Yarkon cemetery. Fetuses are buried in Holon."

Do you also handle the cleaning and washing of the deceased?

"No. Others are responsible for this. Jews and Muslims perform purification only at the cemetery. Christians do the purification already in the hospital. Regardless, we maintain the utmost respect for the deceased, even if it takes a long time for them to be taken to the cemetery. This can happen, for instance, when a foreign worker passes away, and it takes the embassy a long time to locate and notify the family.

"In any case, only after all preparations are made and all approvals received do we move the deceased from the mortuary for burial. However, sometimes the body goes through another station en route, if, for example, it needs to be examined for legal and forensic reasons, then it's taken to Abu Kabir."

Unbearable Scenes

"Until now, I've described the technical aspects of the job, but the truth is it's mostly filled with a lot of emotion. And mostly pain. Yes, there are also heart-wrenching moments that bring unbearable scenes," Ezra shares. "The work here is very, very complex. I often face families in the worst moments of their lives.

"One case I particularly remember was of a woman who entered the labor room in stable condition, but complications arose, and she gave birth to a stillborn. It's a dreadful experience that brings great heartache. Despite everything, the mother insisted on seeing the baby. She got all the approvals and came to us. When she picked her up, she burst into heartbreaking sobs. Seconds later, the father also began to cry, and I followed. I told them she must be a high soul who completed her correction quickly and returned to her creator.

"I also painfully remember a son grasping my legs as I came to take his mother from the ward to the mortuary. He wouldn't let me go. I sat with him, tried to comfort, and told him that's the way of the world. Incidentally, the exact situation happened with a husband whose wife died suddenly. He simply couldn't let us take his wife. Couldn't accept it, agree this is what happened. She was a young woman and mother to small children. In this case, I couldn't tell him it's the way of the world. These things leave lasting impressions."

How do you find the words for such terrible moments?

"I haven't been trained for it. Hashem puts the words in my mouth. In most cases, I'm not accompanied by a psychological team. However, there are situations where a person dies in a particular unit, and it is decided someone qualified in mental health should speak with the family. This mainly happens in cases of attacks, where the family is deeply traumatized because it happened suddenly and without warning.

"When there's no psychological team, I need to find the right words to say and be with them. I must speak, participate, show them I understand their pain. They are lonely without me, so I try to comfort and support them. At the same time, I try not to bring work home because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to function at home or work."

Furthermore, Ezra recounts, he also faces a tough challenge with people around him who hear about his job. "Sometimes I encounter reluctance, fear, or mild shock, but sometimes it reaches very high levels. For instance, there are people who simply don't want me to sit next to them once they hear I'm managing a mortuary.

"This obviously happens mostly in the small, usual things of life. Barbers, for instance, typically chat with their clients to become friendly and endearing. Three barbers who heard about my job told me, 'Listen, I'll cut your hair this time, but don't come here again.' Or people I sit next to in the synagogue suddenly find out about my job and ask me not to talk to them. Sometimes people treat me as though I'm the Angel of Death come to take their soul.

"But, and this is very important to me to say, I don't get angry with them. I can even understand them. It's not easy hearing about death. But each of us will have to give an account after 120, and there's no escaping that. Yes, it's important to me that people know it exists, that everyone will reach that point, and that we need to live our lives accordingly."