The Jewish View of Death and the Soul: Why We Don’t Despair When Life Ends

Among many nations that do not believe in the immortality of the soul or the existence of an afterlife, it is common to see mourning notices that read, “Stephen is no more.” For them, death signifies total extinction — a person lived for seventy, eighty, or ninety years, and now simply no longer exists. This unbearable sense of finality often leads to extreme expressions of grief: tearing hair, self-inflicted harm, or violent mourning rituals.

Judaism, however, speaks differently. The Torah declares (Devarim 14:1–2): “You are children of the Lord your God; you shall not cut yourselves, nor make any baldness between your eyes for the dead, for you are a holy people to the Lord your God.”

The commentators explain that the Jewish people, as children of the King of Kings, understand that the soul returns to God. It continues to live eternally, close to its Creator. Therefore, mourning in Judaism is not about despair or finality. We grieve the separation and distance from our loved one, but not as though they have ceased to exist.

Death Is Only Separation, Not Loss

The Or HaChaim writes: “When a person dies, there is no loss to the deceased. It is like a father who sends his son on a business trip to another city, and later recalls him home. The son’s absence is felt only in the place he left, but he himself still exists — and indeed, he is now better off, for he has returned to his father, the source of life. With this understanding, we are not to cut ourselves or show excessive grief. The nations, however, who are not called children of God, mourn as if life has truly ended, for to them, death is absolute.”

The Soul Is a Royal Treasure

The Kli Yakar adds a beautiful metaphor: “The nations mourn justly in their eyes, for they believe something precious has been lost forever. But you, Israel, are God’s treasured people. Just as kings store their treasures safely, so does God store the pure souls of the righteous in His eternal vault. It is not lost — it continues to shine, though its sun has set in this world. Why mourn something that still exists and flourishes in eternity?”

The Promise of Eternal Existence

The Ramban (Nachmanides) explains the phrase “a holy people” as a divine promise: “Being a holy people means your souls endure before Him forever. God does not destroy souls; He plans that none shall be cast away. Therefore, you should not gash yourselves or despair over death, even when one dies young. The Torah does not forbid natural tears, for emotion stirs when loved ones part, but excessive mourning contradicts faith in the soul’s eternity.”

The Soul Is Like a Precious Jewel

The Yad Emunah offers an elegant parable: A man loses a precious gem. Who suffers more — the gem or the one who lost it? The gem retains its value wherever it is, even if covered in mud; once cleaned, it shines again. The owner, however, feels deep loss. Similarly, when a loved one dies, the soul remains precious and pure; only the living feel the temporary absence. Therefore, Jews do not mourn as the nations do. For them, death is final; for us, it is only a temporary separation — a jewel that will soon be returned.

Hence, the Torah teaches: “You are children of the Lord your God; do not cut yourselves.” The loss is not permanent — it is a brief absence before reunion.

The King’s Son Returns to His Palace

The Zohar (Parshat Vayechi, on the verse Gad, a troop shall overcome him) tells this story: A king once sent his son to a distant village to be raised there. The villagers wept bitterly over his departure. Among them was a wise man who said, “Why are you crying? Don’t you realize the prince is leaving to be crowned king? You should rejoice for him!”

Likewise, God, the King of the universe, sends the soul into this world to fulfill its mission through Torah and mitzvot. When its time comes to return, loved ones weep over the parting. Moshe, the greatest of all prophets, calls out: “You are children of the Lord your God!” Do not mourn excessively — for the soul returns home to glory. Excessive despair implies disbelief in the soul’s eternity, as though it were destroyed like a shattered clay pot. But the truth is that the soul is like gold and silver vessels — it can be refined and restored.

Faith and Consolation — Letters from the Sages

The saintly Rabbi Yechezkel Levenstein wrote in a condolence letter to his daughter (Or Yechezkel, Letter 110): “All mourning exists only for the benefit of the living — to awaken reflection and remembrance of mortality. Were it not for this purpose, mourning would be forbidden, for our faith must be strong: the soul of Israel does not die. It only returns to its Father in Heaven, as it is written, ‘The spirit returns to God who gave it.’ My dear daughter, may you find strength in faith, and may God have mercy on us, saying to us, ‘You are children of the Lord your God,’ and may He soon fulfill the promise, ‘Death shall be swallowed up forever.’”

When a bereaved father once came to Rabbi Elazar Menachem Shach for guidance, asking how to cope with his loss, the rabbi replied gently: “Think of your children as travelers who have gone far away. For now, you cannot visit them, but one day, when the time is right, you will meet again.”

The Parable of the Child Who Regretted Being Born

Rabbi Meir Chodosh offered a moving insight to comfort a young orphan, based on the Mishnah (Avot 4:22): “Against your will you are formed, against your will you are born, against your will you live, and against your will you die.”

He asked: What does “against your will” mean? Surely before compelling someone to act, one tries persuasion. So what do they say to the unborn child? Perhaps they explain: “Why remain in the dark, cramped womb? Come out into a bright, vast world filled with sunlight and opportunity to serve your Creator!”

But the fetus resists, replying: “No, I prefer to stay here — I have everything I need.” After several attempts, nature forces birth: “Against your will you are born.”

So too at death: The soul is invited to ascend to the next world — a place of light, reward, and divine presence. But the person says: “I don’t want to leave! I have family, loved ones, Torah, and good deeds here.” At last, the soul departs “against its will.”

Rabbi Chodosh concluded: If we could speak to that same person in the next world and offer to return him to earthly life, he would refuse — just as a baby would never wish to return to the womb.

He said to the orphan: “Your father’s soul is now rejoicing in eternal peace. You feel his absence, but he has found his true home, his rest, and his light. One day you will meet again — when the Mashiach comes and resurrection dawns.”