Can I incorporate a photograph into a gravestone? - The Jewish Chronicle

Question: I have noticed in non-Jewish cemeteries it is increasingly common to include photos of the deceased in the gravestone.Would I be able to do the same for a family member in a Jewish cemetery?

An Orthodox view:

It is certainly not a Jewish custom.

In the mediaeval period it was not uncommon for headstones marking the resting place of a cohen to bear the engraving of two human hands, symbolising the ritual of Birkat Kohanim (the priestly blessing). Yet, it was not the practice to engrave a human face.

In the early 19th century Rabbi Moses Sofer (1762 -1839) was asked his opinion regarding etching a likeness of the departed on a gravestone — an increasingly popular practice in non-Jewish society. He responded that it was prohibited on the grounds of violating the second commandment, not to make a graven image. He added a further concern relating to the fact that people often pray at the resting- places of departed relatives.

Praying in front of an image, he argued, could be interpreted as praying to an idol. Rabbi Sofer was a harsh critic of Jewish acculturation to non-Jewish modern trends and this, more than anything, may have driven his reaction to this modish practice. He even says as much at the end of his responsum, citing the non-Jewish provenance of etching a human likeness on a gravestone as reason to prohibit it.

He does not, however, refer to pictures (it would have been paintings in his time as photography didn’t really exist before the 1830s). While aspects of his halachic opposition to three-dimensional engravings do not apply to two-dimensional photos, it is more than likely that his opposition would extend to photos as well.

Beyond the strict halachic argumentation, perhaps there is something about Jews and words that explains why Jewish tombstones bear language rather than images. Images are fixed, they are a snapshot of a single moment. Language, while enabling us to define concepts and things, also points beyond those strict definitions.

Language is always open to interpretation and nuance. Judaism is a very verbal religion, we talk, we argue and we are always interpreting. The late Elie Wiesel famously quipped that Judaism is full of silences, we just don’t like to talk about them. Language is more dynamic than an image. It is perhaps fitting then that we avoid the latter and choose the former when honouring a loved one’s memory.

Rabbi Dr Naftali Brawer is Neubauer executive director of Hillel, Tufts University

A Progressive view:

I must admit to being shocked when I first saw a gravestone with the photo of the deceased on it. It seemed very eerie.

Part of me felt I was looking under the grave and into the coffin, while I also noticed that the photo of the 94-year-old person buried there was not of an elderly man, frail and worn, but of a good-looking 40-something.

That raises a delicate point: who decides which photo to use? Is it the deceased who states in advance what he or she wants and probably has an image of themself (or wants to project a self-image) that is much younger and healthier than when their life draws to a close?

Alternatively, is the photo chosen by the family, who may remember the person much more in their role as grandpa/grandma rather than as they were in earlier days?

As for Jewish practice, photos are already customary in some cemeteries in Italy and Eastern Europe. It is an example of the religious cross-fertilisation that happens in many other arenas (such as the bride’s father escorting her to the chupah). I see no reason why it should not occur in this country too, so long as it does not become competitive or indecorous.

The fact that my initial shock has lessened shows the power of habit in religious attitudes. For instance, we see wearing a shtreimel as indicating a certain level of observance, but it would have seemed complete lunacy to the Israelites in the desert. Moses would have had a similar attitude to a woman wearing a sheitel.

But photos on graves are not the latest development; they have now been joined by barcodes, which, when accessed, give details of the deceased and a resume of their life. It extends the grave from a resting-place into a museum piece, with a short history for all who wish to know above whom they are standing.

This, too, begs the question of who decides what is included in that biography, and also how accurately that life is described: not only their successes, but also their business failures, divorces and broiguses?

Still, that could apply to some engraved inscriptions about, for instance, “the most wonderful person” — and to what extent that is the full story? But we choose to honour the dead rather than highlight faults and barcode descriptions should do the same.

Rabbi Dr Jonathan Romain is rabbi of Maidenhead (Reform) Synagogue

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