What Happens When the Soul Leaves the Body - Rabbi Zamir Cohen (AI)

One of the greatest questions that stimulates the mind of any thinking person throughout life is the question of the meaning of life and death and whether there is life after life. And if so, what does that mean for me right now? What are the practical implications? Because if it is true that life does not end with death, that death is not simply the end as many people assume, a person lived and now they no longer exist, but rather if the person continues to exist without the physical body, then what is the meaning of that existence? What is his state? Is it good for him? Is it not good? And if that is the ultimate purpose, then why must we first be placed here inside a physical body? Why did the creator not place us immediately where he wants us to be without this strange journey of life filled with temptations, trials, challenges, wars, troubles, and illnesses? In other words, what is the true purpose of life? In the past, the only answer to this question was found in the Torah. Today, however, even in the world of scientific research, with the ability to document and record evidence from different places in the world, many scientists can no longer remain indifferent. They, too, have reached the same conclusion taught in the Torah. When a person dies, he does not cease to exist. As it is written at the end of Ecclesiastes, "And the dust will return to the earth as it was, and the spirit will return to God who gave it." When the human being was created, he was created with a body and a soul. The first human had both, a physical component and a soul within it. So, it is with every descendant of Adam and Eve, a physical body and a soul that is integrated within that body. The Kabbalists explain, as Rabbi Chaim Vital, the foremost disciple of the Arizal, writes in his work Sha'arei Kedusha, regarding the verse, "You have clothed me with skin and flesh and knit me together with bones and sinews." Who is speaking there to God? It is the true human being, the soul. The soul is the real person. When God created Adam, as described in Genesis, "And the Lord God formed the man." The word formed, Vayetzer, indicates not creation from nothing, but shaping already existing material, forming the dust into the structure of a human. Then it says, "And he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being." Rabbi Chaim Vital explains, all the astonishing systems we admire in the human body, the digestive system, the eyes, the ears, the vast network of blood vessels, the nervous system, the intricate organization of muscles, all of that complexity originated in the soul. The soul contains 248 spiritual organs and 365 spiritual tendons. And when God breathed the soul into the body, the body took on its shape, a physical expression of the structure of the soul. So, when we see the human body, we are essentially seeing the design of the soul. This means it is the eye of the soul that truly sees. The physical eye is merely the box, the window through which the soul perceives. The soul hears through the ears. This is why when a person dies, the body still has eyes, but it does not see. It still has ears, but it does not hear. All the systems are still present, but the actual person, the soul, is no longer inside to experience anything. When the Kabbalists discuss reincarnation, they also explain its deeper purpose. The soul returns to this world in order to correct what was left unresolved in a previous lifetime. The Sha'ar HaGilgulim, the gate of reincarnations, authored by the Arizal, explains this subject in great detail. In our book, Journey to the Truth, we also brought several examples of such cases. Another fascinating area of testimony concerns what people commonly call spirits, souls of the departed that appear visibly, sometimes even recognizable as the person who passed away. Rabbi Yaakov Edelstein, of blessed memory, the chief rabbi of Ramat HaSharon, recorded such a testimony in his own handwriting. We included a facsimile of that handwritten account in the book, The Coming Revolution. He was a man of absolute truth. He described an elderly man who had been hosted by a family in the period before the Holocaust. He was alone in the world, and the family provided him with a room, food, and drink. He would sit and study Torah, but eventually he passed away. After his death, the room remained closed. The family did not need it anymore. Rabbi Edelstein wrote that one day one of the children opened that room and saw the man sitting inside. Terrified, he told his parents, but when they opened the door, they saw nothing. This repeated itself several times, until finally the father, a Torah scholar, spoke aloud. "I am happy that you continue to visit, but you are frightening the children. Please do not come anymore." And from that point on, he did not reappear. But until then, they would actually see him sitting there. The Talmud also records that Rabbi Yehudah Hanasi would return home every Friday night after his passing and sit in his usual place at the Shabbat table. He didn't eat, of course, because he was no longer alive, but his family saw him present. There is another remarkable case documented in the biography, The Man on the Wall, volume 1, page 345, a book about Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, the chief rabbi of Jerusalem about a century ago. His grandson, Rabbi Mordechai Sonnenfeld, a well-known, generous person in Jerusalem, continues to help many people to this day. Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld told this story himself. In his youth, he studied at the famous Pressburg Yeshiva in Hungary. There was a wealthy woman who owned her own business. Every Rosh Chodesh, she would come to the Yeshiva office and donate money to support the students, and she requested that they recite Kaddish for those souls who had no one to say it for them. She explained, "My parents have children who recite Kaddish for them, but surely there are lonely souls with no family to honor them. Please ensure that Kaddish is said on their behalf." And for years, that is exactly what they did. Eventually, her husband passed away, and her financial situation deteriorated. She struggled to maintain her donations, and when her two daughters reached marriageable age, she realized she must save money for them. With a heavy heart, she came to the Yeshiva office and apologized. "I want very much to continue giving, but I must care for my daughters. What I ask is this, even if I can no longer donate, please continue saying Kaddish for those who have no one." They agreed because the matter touched their hearts. We know from our sages how much spiritual elevation Kaddish brings to a departed soul. It is not that the words, "May His great name be magnified and sanctified" refer to the deceased. His great name refers to the name of God, and the prayer expresses our hope for the coming of Mashiach when God's sovereignty will be revealed to the world. But when Kaddish is recited in the merit of the departed, it brings the soul to higher realms. There are many teachings in our tradition about this. The sages relate one such story. Rabbi Akiva once encountered the spirit of a deceased man in a terrible state. He asked how he might help him. The man replied, "If my son, who is ignorant and involved in wrongdoing, would learn to recite Kaddish, it would greatly relieve my suffering." Rabbi Akiva traveled to that man's city, found the son, befriended him, taught him how to read until he was able to say Kaddish. On the very day that he recited Kaddish, he dreamed of the departed soul who told him, "Rabbi, you have brought me peace, just as you have calmed my spirit. They have already begun to lift me from the terrible place where I was, elevating me from level to level." Hearing of the tremendous spiritual benefit of Kaddish, that woman cared deeply about it. She simply no longer had the financial means to continue supporting the Yeshiva. She begged, "Please, even without my donation, continue the Kaddish for those who have no one." The administrator reassured her, "What you contributed until now is already a great merit, and the custom you requested, we will certainly continue." She left the office relieved. As she walked outside, an elderly man approached her, dignified, with a white beard, and an honorable appearance. He greeted her warmly. She responded politely, but he did not move on. He began asking questions. "How are things at home? How is your financial situation? I know you have two daughters. How are things regarding their weddings?" She did not understand why a stranger was interrogating her like this, but she answered truthfully, "Yes, they need to get married. God will help. Everything will work out." But he continued pressing. "How much do you estimate the total expenses will be, comfortably, with all that they need?" Embarrassed, she nevertheless answered, giving a relatively high figure. To her astonishment, he pulled out a checkbook, wrote out the exact amount she had mentioned, and before signing, he said, "This is a large sum. I want two witnesses that I signed this. Please go inside and bring two Yeshiva students who will attest to it." She went in, found two students passing by, and they came outside with her. The man said to them, "I want you to see me sign this check, so that no one can claim it is forged." He signed, handed her the check, and as the students began to leave, he asked, "Before you go, bring me a piece of paper. I will sign on that, too, for comparison." They didn't understand why he was being so careful, but they complied. She thanked him for this tremendous act of kindness, but he said, "You must promise me, tomorrow morning, without delay, go to the bank and withdraw the funds." She agreed and returned home filled with excitement. The next morning, she went to the bank. When she handed the check to the teller, he looked at it suspiciously, looked at her, looked again at the check, then told her, "Please sit down. I need to speak with the branch manager." The manager, who was also the owner, took one look at the check and collapsed to the floor, unconscious. The woman was detained, closed in a room under suspicion of fraud. The amount was enormous. When the manager regained consciousness, he requested that she be brought in. He asked, "Where did you get this check?" She explained everything. "I didn't steal. I didn't deceive. An elderly gentleman stopped me and gave it to me. I have no idea what is wrong, but it has nothing to do with me." The manager calmed her. "It's all right. May I show you a picture? If you see his face, will you recognize him?" She replied, "Of course, I can see him clearly in my mind, and the two Yeshiva students also saw him." He took out a photograph. She looked, and with certainty said, "That's him. That's the man who gave me the check." The manager began to tremble. He told her, "That is my father, who passed away 10 years ago. Last night, he appeared to me in a dream and said, 'Since you abandoned your faith and married a non-Jewish woman, I have had no rest in the world to come. The only one who helped me was this woman. She arranged for Kaddish to be recited for a soul who has no one to say it. She helped me, and now she is in distress, needing to marry off her two daughters. She will come to you tomorrow, and I ask you, repay her the entire amount she needs.'" He told all of this to his wife when he woke up, frightened by the dream. But she dismissed him, laughed at him, told him he was crazy. Later, at the bank, seeing the check with his father's actual signature, he understood. They called in the two Yeshiva students. They both testified that they saw the man sign. Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld concluded the story saying, "We were those two students. One was myself, and the other was Rabbi Yehuda Grunwald, who studied with me in Yeshiva. You can ask him as well." This account appears in the book The Man on the Wall. It is also referenced in another work, Sha'arei Emunah, which notes that the manager's non-Jewish wife ultimately converted, and their entire family returned to Judaism, because after witnessing such a thing, who could remain indifferent? These stories teach us, even in our generation, about the true spiritual greatness of the human being, that the real person is the eternal soul, and about the immense spiritual impact of our deeds in this world. There are also well-documented testimonies of Dybbukim, a departed soul entering the body of a living person. Many such cases have been recorded in the last century. Rabbi Yehuda Fetaya, grandfather of Rabbi David Batsri of Jerusalem, documented many of them in his famous work Spirit Speak. Rabbi Yehuda Fetaya was considered the greatest Kabbalist of his generation. I once heard Maran Rav Ovadia Yosef say that in the last 100 years, there was no Kabbalist on the level of Rabbi Yehuda Fetaya. Every amulet Kamea he wrote worked. There are very few today who can write such things, but in his time, he possessed these profound secrets. Rabbi Yehuda Fetaya authored a commentary on the Tanakh based on Kabbalah. Within that commentary, there is a special section, almost like a booklet, titled Spirit Speak. He discusses verses related to the soul, and from there, he records documented testimonies. He writes specific dates. "On such and such date, I encountered this person who had a spirit within him, and I adjured the spirit to explain why it entered this person, what it had done, and what rectification it required." He invested enormous effort to help those individuals afflicted by these spirits, the Dybbukim, and these accounts are all recorded. Many great Torah scholars testified about such phenomena. Rabbi Eliyahu Lopian, Chafetz Chaim, and others from the greatest sages of Israel. Of course, not every wandering soul can enter a person whenever it wishes. It requires special permission from heaven and a specific reason. I will share one incident that I personally witnessed. We were once asked to come to the Yeshiva of Rabbi David Batsri, because there was a woman there who apparently had a spirit inside her. Rabbi Batsri was handling everything. We simply sat nearby, observing. By the time we arrived, many people had already gathered outside, having heard about the situation. But the doors were locked, so that only Yeshiva members and a few scholars could enter. Inside, a woman sat with her head lowered, and a man's voice was coming from her. Questions were asked, and she, or rather, the voice inside her, answered. One of the questions they asked was, "Why did you enter her? What did she do to you?" The voice replied, "She had an abortion, and I was the fetus. I needed to return to this world in another incarnation, and because of her, I am now suffering. Therefore, I was granted permission to enter." I am, by nature, a skeptical person. I don't believe things easily. I thought, "Maybe she just knows how to imitate a man's voice. Some people can do that." But I noticed her lips did not move. The sound was coming from within, not from the mouth. Several cautious tests were conducted. I remained silent, watching carefully. They asked, multiple times, "How many people are in this room right now?" Her head remained completely down, yet the voice answered the correct number instantly. We checked. It was accurate every time. 5 minutes later, people left, and others came in. Again, they asked, "How many?" Again, correct, without looking, without lifting the head. It was clear that the perception here was not natural sight. There were several such details that convinced me this was no performance, but truly the spirit of a deceased person inside that woman. There are many such testimonies in recent generations, all of them proving that there is life after death, that the real human being is the eternal soul, to which death and annihilation simply do not apply. Now, after establishing that a human being never ceases to exist, let us return to the words of King Solomon and learn the practical life lessons we must take for ourselves. We are studying the Book of Proverbs, Mishlei, in order, verse by verse, each week addressing the next passage. We have reached Proverbs chapter 11, verse 4. Riches shall not profit in the day of wrath, but righteousness saves from death. And the final verse in this section, when a wicked person dies, his hope perishes, and the expectation of the unjust comes to an end. What is Solomon teaching here? He says, riches will not help on the day of wrath. A person may earn a great deal of money and believe, "With money, I am secure. If a medical crisis comes, I'll hire the best doctor. I can travel wherever I want. I have everything." Solomon says, "Don't think only short-term. Think long-term. Look ahead a step. Our sages teach, 'Who is wise? One who sees what is coming.' Day of wrath means the day of divine judgment, as Moses said, 'God was angered with me because of you.' That is a time when God expresses displeasure for a person's deeds. When King Solomon speaks of a day of wrath, he means a time of severe judgment, a day when divine anger is aroused. And he tells a person, 'Do not rely on your wealth. Money is important. You can accomplish many things with it, but look deeper. What is the state of your spiritual life? If a person is full of wrongdoing and his only confidence lies in his money, King Solomon warns him, 'Riches will not help on the day of wrath.' If God forbid, there is a strict judgment upon him because he has gone too far in sin and did not repent. At that moment, all the money in the world will not save him. But, charity saves from death. When a person uses his money for good deeds to help others, that charity can literally save his life, both from dangers in this world and from spiritual suffering in the world to come. Then Solomon adds, "The righteousness of the blameless will straighten his path." Who is called blameless? Someone who is whole and sincere with God. In the language of the Torah, tamim does not mean naive or easily deceived. It means a person who walks with complete faith, who trusts that God's commands are for his benefit. He does not try to outsmart heaven. He follows God's guidance loyally. And this righteousness straightens his path. He becomes stable and secure. He knows how to act in every challenge, in marriage, in raising children, in the workplace, when facing anger, envy, temptation, or dishonesty. A God-fearing person stays in control, asking, "What does God want from me right now?" And that keeps him from falling. Charity is not only when you clearly see the benefit, like giving a hungry family food. Even commandments where we don't immediately see the results, like putting on tefillin, still elevate and protect us. God commanded it. Therefore, it must bring blessing. So, King Solomon teaches, whether in mitzvot between a person and others or between a person and God, living righteously straightens your life's path, both in this world and in the next. As long as a person is alive, even if he knows, "I'm not doing well. In many areas, I am failing. I have a lot to fix. I'm even a problematic person." He must never label himself a wicked person. Our sages taught, "A person should always see himself as half meritorious and half guilty. Even the greatest tzaddik should say, 'I'm halfway. I still have a lot to improve.' And someone who thinks he's the worst sinner must also say, 'I'm half and half. I also do many good things. Why should I see myself only in darkness?' Because as long as a person is alive, there is always hope. He can repair. He can change. With a single moment of sincere repentance, regretting the past, committing to do better from this moment on, and confessing before God, his sins can be erased. God says, 'Return to me and I will return to you.' He embraces anyone who comes back. But once a person's life ends, too late. That's what King Solomon means. When a wicked person dies, hope is lost. While you are alive, awaken yourself to change. No matter your spiritual level, every day is a chance to repair. Rabbi Yisrael Salanter expressed this with a powerful story. One night, very late, he saw light in the shoemaker's shop. Worried about a fire, he went inside and found the shoemaker working by the last flicker of a candle. Rabbi Salanter asked, "At such an hour, you are still fixing shoes?" The shoemaker replied, "As long as the candle is burning, there is still time to fix." These words shook him to his core. The next day, he told his students, "Here is a lesson from the shoemaker. As long as the candle of the soul is lit, you can still fix your life." This is Solomon's message. Once a person passes away, hope is gone. Therefore, do not delay. While you are alive, act, repair, elevate. As the Mishnah says, "Reflect on three things and you will not come to sin. Know where you came from, where you are going, and before whom you will give judgment." When the Torah says, "He who is gracious to the poor lends to God," it teaches us something remarkable. When you give generously without expecting anything in return to a person in need, you might feel as though you lost some money. You gave someone 100 shekels so he could have food for Shabbat. A family may literally have no food, and you feel, "Well, that money is gone. At least I helped someone." But scripture tells you, "Don't think you lost anything. You loaned that money, and not to the poor person. You lent it to God himself." "He who is gracious to the poor lends to the Lord." From that moment, it is as if, in a manner of speaking, God becomes the borrower, and you become the lender. And the Torah also says, "A borrower becomes a servant to the lender." Proverbs. Of course, God doesn't literally owe anything, but the message is clear. He is now committed to repay you with good for the good you have done. And God has endless ways to return blessing to a person. The Talmud raises a fascinating question. King Solomon wrote twice, "Charity saves from death." Why say this more than once? The sages answer, "One refers to salvation from an unusual or tragic death in this world, and the other refers to salvation from judgment in the world to come. Why is charity so powerful? Because God operates measure for when you restore their sense of stability, when a person is poor, the sages say he is like someone who is as good as dead because he has no security, no ability to live with dignity. If you help such a person rise again, then heaven grants you life in return. This is why charity can overturn harsh decrees, lengthen life, and protect a person from suffering in this world and the next. But here we must understand something essential. God never punishes out of vengeance. He loves us. "You are children of the Lord your God." So, why is there punishment at all? In Judaism, there are only two reasons. One, to help a person avoid sin in the first place because the spiritual damage of sin is far worse than any pleasure gained. Two, if a person has already stumbled, punishment serves to cleanse the soul, not to hurt it, like washing dangerous chemicals off a child's skin. The father scrubs, and it stings, but he is saving the child's life. He suffers together with him. So, too, God. "I am with him in his distress." Psalms. He is never absent, never cruel. He hurts only to heal. In this world, we often exaggerate the importance of temporary material things, like a child who cries when his paper boat sinks. To him, it is everything. But when we leave this world, we see clearly all our possessions were temporary paper boats. What we truly take with us are our good deeds, our Torah, our kindness, our charity. This is King Solomon's teaching. While you are alive in this world, use every opportunity to repair, to grow, to choose good. So that when you reach the world of truth, your reward is yours by right, not by gift. This is King Solomon's message to us. Take responsibility for your life while the candle, your soul, is still burning within your body. God placed us in a world filled with desires and challenges so that we could overcome them, build our spiritual identity, and earn our eternal reward by merit, not as a gift. We will conclude with a blessing. May these words of Torah bring success and protection to everyone here with us and to the entire nation of Israel. And may we soon merit the complete redemption speedily in our days. Amen.