This past Shabbat, I stood in two sacred spaces that illuminated the beauty, fragility, and resilience of life. One moment, I found myself standing before the entwined lives of Chuck and Carol, a couple whose love was so profound that even death could not untangle their bond. The next, I witnessed two bright, young souls—Lielle and Kaia, twin girls on the threshold of adulthood—renewing the covenant of our people through their shared commitment to Torah and Judaism.

Two Trees on an Island: A Double Funeral

Friday morning, I officiated my first double funeral at Eden Memorial Park. Chuck (87 years old) had been in hospice, fading quietly. Upon his death, his family, already grieving, returned to his home to deliver the devastating news to his wife, Carol (77 years old) only to discover she, too, had died just hours earlier. It was almost as if her soul, sensing the absence of Chuck’s presence, simply could not hold on.

This was a second marriage for both Chuck and Carol. Through their love and care for one another, they blended their two families so beautifully that what had once been separate became whole. Each family member had a dual relationship to the deceased: a son was also a step-son; a daughter-in-law was also a step-daughter-in-law. But the grandchildren, who knew only love and connection, were simply grandchildren to both.

We buried Chuck and Carol in the same grave, their caskets placed one on top of the other. It was a profound and symbolic moment—a physical representation of their deeply intertwined lives. The choreography of the service was complex, heartbreaking, and beautiful.

I shared the true story of two trees standing together on an island, their roots so tightly entangled beneath the earth that when one tree fell to a storm, the other, unscathed by the winds, soon fell as well. It simply could not sustain itself without the connection of its partner.

Chuck and Carol had once healed each other as they rooted each other in love. Their lives were deeply interconnected, a bond so profound that even death could not fully sever it. As their family lovingly fulfilled the mitzvah of burial, a deep sense of grief arose out of the tragedy of it all—but it was accompanied by an equally profound sense of gratitude for having witnessed such enduring love.

Holding the Etz Chayim: Lielle and Kaia’s Double Bat Mitzvah

The next day, I officiated the B’not Mitzvah of Lielle and Kaia, twin sisters I had named 13 years ago when they were babies. This Shabbat, those same twins stood before our congregation, reading from the Torah and reaffirming their place within the Jewish community.

As they lovingly held the Torah scrolls, their hands gripping the etz chayim—the “Tree of Life” handles—they connected to the sacred words passed down to them L’dor Vador, from the generations—some living, some not—who came before them. I couldn’t help but marvel, as they giggled through their thank you’s, at the truth embedded in Proverbs 3:18: Eitz chayim hee l’machazim bah v’tomcheha shalom—“She is a tree of life for those who grasp her, and whoever holds her is happy.”

Their Torah portion Vayeishev told the story of Jacob and Esau, biblical twins who reconciled after years of conflict. As Lielle and Kaia chanted, I reflected on the parallel themes of connection and healing I had seen throughout the weekend. Just as Jacob and Esau finally found peace, Chuck and Carol healed each other by rooting themselves in a love that sustained their lives and their blended family.

Lielle and Kaia shared reflections on sibling dynamics during their D’var Torah. Their playful interconnectedness as twins was evident even as they shared profound insights into the sacred text. Their parents and grandparents beamed with pride, tears streaming down their faces, remembering the once little girls now on the cusp of Jewish adulthood.

These young women are like the two trees I spoke of at the funeral—but in their case, the bond is not about interdependence but about partnership and growth. They hold each other up as they reach for the sky.
Standing before the ark to bless them, I saw in their faces a vision of hope for the future. It reminded me that the roots of Judaism are strong, and the branches of our tree of life continue to grow in every generation.

Life Intertwined, Life Renewed

This weekend offered a powerful juxtaposition of life’s fragility and renewal. Chuck and Carol’s love showed us how deeply connected we can be to one another, creating bonds so strong that even death cannot sever them. Their story was a testament to the beauty of interdependence.

Lielle and Kaia’s twin B’not Mitzvah offered a vision of shared growth and hope. Together, they demonstrated that Judaism is alive and well, renewed in every generation by those who choose to embrace it.

Both experiences—one steeped in loss, the other in joy—teach us that life’s most sacred moments are not lived in isolation. Whether in love or in growth, we find meaning in connection.

May we draw inspiration from Chuck and Carol’s enduring bond and celebrate the next generation of Jewish life embodied by Lielle and Kaia. Together, may we hold tightly to one another, and to Torah, our tree of life, knowing that these connections give us strength, purpose, and life.

Who are the trees in your life that hold you up, whose roots intertwined with yours, sustain you? I’d love to hear your stories.