Parashat Chayei Sarah opens with a simple, heartbreaking scene: “Abraham came to eulogize Sarah and to weep for her.” Before there is negotiation over a burial plot, before the halakhic details of acquisition and contract, the Torah pauses to show Abraham as a husband in mourning, standing over his wife and giving a hesped. That image becomes the first model of Jewish eulogy.
An Independent Obligation
The hesped, the formal eulogy, constitutes an independent obligation, not just an optional flourish attached to the funeral. Some understand it as a rabbinically mandated act of chesed, but as many note it is already hinted at here in the Torah itself.
Rabbenu Bachya explains that this is one continuous chesed that begins with the preparations for burial, continues with the eulogy, and culminates in the period of mourning. These are stages of a single covenant of kindness carried out for the deceased—chesed shel emet—a kindness with no expectation of repayment.
R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik (Divrei Hagut V’Ha’arakhah, pp. 137-140) approaches the obligation from another angle. For him, the hesped is not only a service performed for the dead; it is a central expression of the mourner’s responsibility of aveilut. It is therefore evaluated not only in terms of its content, but primarily by the emotions it evokes and the inner work it enables.
For Whom Is the Eulogy?
The Talmud (Sanhedrin 46b) records two possibilities as to the primary function of the hesped. One possibility, perhaps the more intuitive, is that the hesped is meant to honor the deceased—y’kara d’shakhvi, the glory of the one who has passed. The other possibility is that the surviving mourners are the primary beneficiaries—y’kara d’chayei, the glory and honor of the living.
The dominant conclusion of the Talmud is that the deceased is the primary beneficiary. One practical consequence would be that just as a person has some control over other honors given to them, one has the right to request not to be eulogized at all. The kavod being offered is essentially theirs to waive.
There are a number of possible understandings to this position of y’kara d’shokhvi. It may refer to the attitude one has while still living, anticipating and imagining the eulogies that will be said. It may also refer to the enhancement of status that comes posthumously in the eyes of those assembled. R. Yechiel Michel Tikuchinsky (Gesher HaChaim, II, 9:1), prefers a more spiritual interpretation to either of those, and asserts that the meaning is that the soul of the deceased actually is comforted by the words that are spoken.
At the same time, R. Tikuchinsky is clear that the needs of the deceased are the primary motivation, not the only one. The benefit to the living remains essential. That benefit certainly includes the comfort granted to a grieving family when they hear their loved one’s qualities recognized and articulated. But there is a more fundamental way in which the hespedrepresents y’kara d’chayei, “the honor of the living.”
It would be a profound disgrace to the survivors if the loss of a valued relative and friend went unremarked and unnoticed, as if those left behind were unaffected. A world in which a person can disappear without anyone standing up to say, “This life mattered,” is not only an affront to the deceased; it is an indictment of the living. The hesped is thus meant to represent the survivors—to say publicly, “We cared for this person, and their absence tears at us”—and also to affect them. The listeners should be moved to self-examination, to repentance for their own failings, and to a renewed commitment to the values that animated the life being described.
The Goals of a Hesped: Tears and Truth
The Shulchan Arukh (YD 344:1) formulates two core goals that a hesped is meant to accomplish.
First, it is meant to evoke an emotional reaction. The Talmud (Berakhot 6b) teaches that agra d’hespeda daluyei—“the reward for the eulogy is in the wailing.” Rashi explains that this refers to the raising of one’s voice in a wailing, broken manner, so that the audience is moved to tears in response. The halakhic literature takes this quite seriously; the tone of the words, the visible emotion of the speaker, is part of the mitzvah.. Evoking this reaction is an act of kindness to the deceased as well.
My father z”l pointed out that regarding this mandate, it becomes clear that “eulogy” is an inadequate translation for hesped. The latter is a halakhic term that connotes this obligation of emotional impact, correlated to the word misped. Eulogy comes from the Greek for "good word." It refers only to praise of the deceased. This distinction may have halachic ramifications, for example, regarding the parameters of what may be said on days of the year when hesped is prohibited, such as Rosh Chodesh, Chanukah, and the month of Nisan.
The word "eulogy," however, does describe the other goal noted by the Shulchan Arukh, which is to relate the praise of the deceased. R. Nachum Yavrov (Divrei Soferim, p. 150.) notes several reasons why verbal praise of the deceased is beneficial. On a spiritual level, such praise functions as a form of blessing; to speak a person’s virtues before God and community is to surround their memory with berakhah. On an emotional level, articulating those virtues enables the listeners to sense the enormity of the loss. Until someone stands up and says, “This was a person who…,” the reality of what has been taken may not fully register. On an inspirational level, the family members are moved by such descriptions to introspect and find these qualities within themselves, and to consider it their legacy to maximize that potential.
The hesped thus moves in three directions at once: upward, as a kind of blessing; inward, as emotional truth-telling; and forward, as a charge to live differently.
Honesty, Exaggeration, and “Erring on the Side of Kavod”
If we are meant to praise the deceased and move an audience to tears, there is a clear risk of exaggeration, and we are mindful of the demands of honesty and of preserving our credibility. At the same time, the halakhah does permit certain minor enhancements in describing the positive accomplishments and qualities of the deceased (YD 344:1). The Bayit Chadash (Bach) explains that this license exists out of fear of a different distortion, understatement. To shortchange the deceased, to present a life of towering merit as merely respectable, may be a greater offense than a modest overstatement. When we are forced to choose between slightly overstating and seriously understating, he argues, we “err on the side of caution”—and the caution here is kavod ha-met.
R. Nachum Yavrov notes that there are different ways to read the Bach: The Arukh HaShulchan, following Nachmanides, understands the leniency as stylistic. A certain degree of flattering enhancement is normal in this genre, and people hear it as such; it functions less as a factual claim and more as a conventional way of expressing respect. The concern about understatement in practice leads the halakhah to tolerate this elevated style.
R. Yavrov himself, however, understands the Bach to be saying that some degree of actual factual enhancement is being allowed. In this unusual context, where the core mitzvah itself demands kavod and highlights the spiritual stakes of not honoring the deceased properly, falsehood in this context does not rise to the level of a biblical violation and is outweighed by the damage of a diminished hesped. In light of this, he suggests possible limitations: for example, restricting embellishment to personal qualities (such as generosity or humility) rather than concrete, verifiable achievements.
The Turei Zahav (Taz) offers a different justification altogether. In his view, the “enhanced” version is often more accurate than the cautious, minimal version. If a certain degree of righteousness or kindness is visible to the public, it is reasonable to assume that an even greater degree existed behind the scenes. or, at least, the deceased would have risen to the occasion had more been called for.
R. Chaim Yosef David Azulai (Chida) adds that the nature of righteous people is to hide their good deeds. If that is so, then what we know is almost certainly less impressive than the reality. In that case, a seemingly generous description may in fact still be an understatement.
The Shevet Shimon introduces yet another factor, one that resonates with anyone who has stood at a funeral and felt the raw expectations of a family. Jewish law recognizes that there are circumstances in which shalom—preserving peace and avoiding hurt—is weighty enough to allow softening or adjusting the truth. Considering the fact that the family is expecting eulogies that reflect well upon the deceased, maintaining harmony, particularly at that emotionally charged time, is a major priority.
Taken together, these sources do not give carte blanche to invent virtues, but they do sketch a generous halakhic framework: we are commanded to honor, to praise, to err away from belittling, and to consider peace and comfort, all while maintaining basic integrity.
Focus and Length
As the Taz notes (344:5), it is crucial that those eulogizing remain focused on the honor of the deceased, and do not succumb to the temptation to utilize the opportunity to showcase their oratorical abilities. R. Moshe Shternbuch (Responsa Teshuvot V’Hanhagot, I, 686).adds that an unduly long hesped is a disservice both to the assembled community and to the deceased, whose burial is delayed as a result.
Who Bears the Obligation?
R. Yisrael David Harfenes (Nishmat Yisrael, 3:1.) observes that the obligation of eulogy falls upon those who know of the positive qualities of the deceased, even if they are not in a position to speak publicly (or invited to do so). In that case, they are obligated to share their knowledge with the speakers, so those speakers can transmit this information to the public at large. Furthermore, they should share their perspectives with those assembled, and throughout the mourning period and beyond, even in the form of private conversation if not as a public presentation.
Abraham’s Model
When Abraham stands to eulogize Sarah, the Torah does not record his words. We are left to imagine what he said: how he described a lifetime of partnership, how he spoke about her faith, her courage, her quiet strength. But the very fact that the Torah highlights the act of hesped—“to eulogize Sarah and to weep for her”—becomes a foundation for practice.
When we endeavor to eulogize—whether formally at a podium or informally in a small circle at shiva—we travel in Abraham’s footsteps. Our task is to make sure that, in doing so, we honor those we have lost with appreciation, with integrity, and with the kind of words that move hearts toward God and toward one another.
Rabbi Feldman
