We are all mortal, and as time marches on, it is normal to begin having uncomfortable thoughts about what we want to happen after we leave this world.

We plan for our material possessions: writing wills and doing our best to ensure that everything is dealt with equitably and peacefully.

And, if we are wise, we make plans for what will be done with our bodies, the exquisite containers into which G‑d entrusted our souls for the duration of our time on His earth.

I was recently chatting with a friend, who insisted that she wanted hers done by a secular funeral home. That tore my heart, as I have always valued traditional Jewish burial. As we talked, she shared that beauty and dignity were important to her, and she wanted to make sure that her body and everything that surrounded it was as elegant and refined as possible.

Now it just so happens that I have experience in this matter. I am a member of our town’s chevra kadisha, Jewish burial society, which respectfully prepares dozens of our Jewish brothers and sisters for internment.

“I am so glad you brought this up,” I told her, “because I have news for you. If dignity and beauty are important to you, you most definitely want to go with the chevra kadisha.”

Here’s why:

Funeral homes are brilliant at what they do. Their job is to make everything look perfect, including the deceased. To accomplish this, they apply makeup, inject chemicals, drain fluids and do what it takes to make sure that the person appears to be healthy and peaceful. Of course, this is never the case, as the person is dead and has been so for several days at that point. In the course of this process, the body is disfigured and maimed in all kinds of ways.

As can be expected, the technicians working on the deceased simply view their work as a job. They chat, they joke, and they (obviously) do not provide the deceased the same dignity we’d expect—including leaving them exposed for extended periods of time.

Conversely, the chevra kadisha come to their work with a single focus: to provide dignity and respect to the deceased.

As a rule, there is no chatting during the taharah, when the deceased is washed and dressed for burial. We hold ourselves to the most exacting standards, ensuring that every deceased person is treated with the highest level of reverence and respect. When preparing the body for burial, we uncover only what is absolutely necessary. When we are done, we verbally ask forgiveness from the departed soul for this intrusion.

“So,” I asked my friend, “would you prefer to be draped in fake jewels, stuffed with chemicals, having been treated by strangers who see you as another piece of flesh? Or would you choose to be enrobed in white by your fellow Jewish sisters, who treat you like a sister, shower you with care, and send you off with your dignity intact?”

I am gratified to say that she updated her will.

And if my words ring true with you, so should you.