Posthumous Acquittal

This post begins what may become a new series, exploring the experiences of the dying, those close to death, and those who have clinically died and were resuscitated.

In aggregate, this field of research is known as near death studies.

Rabbi Joshua Baumol (1880-1948) was a Hasidic rabbi who emigrated to the United States in 1920 and later led a synagogue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. He authored a two-volume book of responsa on Jewish law.1 On his deathbed, he penned the following words on the backs of a series of bank checks, the only blank paper he had with him in his Queens, New York hospital room. His “daydream” was translated from Hebrew by his grandson Norman Mann.2

I died, and an angel brings me for judgment to the Court on High. The Chief Justice opens up my ledger and reads: “Have you done such and such?” and I answer, “True.”

“Such and such have you thought?” and I answer, “Yes.”

“If so,” says the Chief Justice, “I must sentence you severely and prescribe punishment.”

“Punishment? God forbid that I should get a punishment!”

“Why?” asked the Judge. “Did you not sin and confess?”

Thus begins a fantasy in which the dying man imagines a back-and-forth dialogue between himself and “The Judge” in which he argues on his own behalf in a courtroom of the afterlife. To mete out punishment for his admittedly imperfect deeds, he argues, would constitute an abrogation of justice.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer; “but, my dear Sir, if you were I, you would have sinned as I did.”

The Judge is outraged: “That is a lie! I would have been strong and not sinned.”

“Sir,” I respond, “if you would have been strong and not done as I, then you would not have been I, but you; and if you were I, you would not have overcome [the temptation of sin]. And this is the proof—I, since I am I, was not strong [enough to resist sinning].”

“According to you,” says the Judge, “man has no free will, no control over his deeds.”

“No, no,” I reply. “Man can control his deeds! Proof of this is that innumerable times I was strong enough and chose the good when I could have chosen to do evil. But on those occasions when I was not strong, it was because the condition and character at that time were such that I was not able to be strong.”

“According to your [thesis], then, you deserve punishment?”

“Yes,” I respond, “but besides my true and correct claims, I do not believe, Sir, that you can be cruel enough to punish me. For you are righteous and full of mercy; how, then, can you look on indifferently as I convulse in terrible suffering—and, moreover, say to the angel, ‘Hit him unrelentingly!’ No, no! In no way can I believe this.

“According to you, then,” says the Judge, “there is no judgment and no punishment at all.”

“No, God forbid that I would say that; I believe in reward and punishment, as do you, and as do all the pure, pious, and righteous. But I think that the reward and punishment are spiritual and natural. That is to say, a man whose character and whose environment strengthened his reason to overcome his animal instincts, who walks uprightly and acts justly, who is pleasant to God and pleasant to man, and who accumulates mitzot and good deeds, [such a person’s] soul is each day increasingly purified until the last moment, when it returns to its Source and cleaves unimpeded to the Supernal light of the Ein Sof. Is there a greater reward than this? Is there a greater delight than this?

But a man whose character or whose environment caused him to lose the power to choose the good, who went off waywardly, [such a one’s] soul is filled with dark stains, as thorns and thistles join and thicken about it, and hence upon separation from the body it is unable to return and cleave to the Supernal Light. Is there a punishment greater than this? It is a thousand times more bitter than death!”

As one vanquished, the Judge arises and declares, “You are right!”

And I awoke.

The fantasy concludes with a victory for the dying rabbi, justifying his deliverance from divine punishment and his entrance into endlessness.

In demanding punishment for the patient’s soul, the judge presents the modus ponens:

1. A man’s good deeds and evil deeds deserve reward and punishment respectively.

2. The man has admitted to having done some evil.

3. ∴ Punishment is assured.

The accused presents counterarguments, debating against the Judge that:

1. The divine attributes of mercy and compassion should outweigh any demands for continued suffering.

2. Man’s failures to act out perfect righteousness at all times express the individualities of his soul.

3. Opportunities for soul refinement for one who spent his life in a quest for spiritual improvement should not close at death.

Other fascinating aspects of this vision include its setting in a court of justice before an outraged judge, the position of the dead man as an accused who must defend himself from accusations, and the ultimate persuasive success of the man’s assertions.

Through this discourse, the dead man reconciles several core tenets of Jewish belief with an ultimate destination beyond death where the soul “cleaves to the Supernal light of the Ein Sof” and “returns to its Source”.