Israel's Housing Prices Follow People To Their Graves

In a small country like Israel, land is finite and costs continue to rise. Burials are expensive, and the rich and poor are laid to rest depending on their means.

A Jewish cemetery on the Mount of Olives
A Jewish cemetery on the Mount of Olives
Ari Libsker

TEL AVIV — It’s early afternoon at the Yarkon Cemetery, where a few dozen people are gathered at the entrance plaza. A small funeral procession leaves and heads to a new burial structure called Tamar.

The 300-meter-long building is still under construction. The convoy stops in front of a large wall with five rows of burial chambers. The deceased is placed in a chamber in the third floor. The gravediggers fill the niche with dirt bags, then close it with a marble plate and silicon. Later, the family can add another marble plate and a small gravestone if they wish. Beneath the gravestone a stone shelf will be fitted for a memorial candle and flowers.

A relative of the family says the choice of a chamber burial was made for lack of other options. They simply can’t afford burial in the ground.

“Before she died, she asked that we don’t put too much money into the burial,” the relative says. “We’re sad. She deserved more than just being put into a miserable cranny.”

Our conversation is interrupted by construction noise — drilling and sawing — that also surrounded the funeral, disturbing family mourning and encroaching on the intimate space. Without money, you can’t even mourn peacefully.

Israel’s housing shortage is even following people to their graves, making the country’s class divide even more pronounced. In the past, everyone was buried in the ground as equals. But in a small country like Israel, lands is finite and the demand-and-supply has created inequality even among the dead.

Those who have the money can be buried anywhere they want. It’s just a matter of several hundreds of thousands of shekels. Those who have slightly less can do with a spacious lot in a civil cemetery or in Kibbutz graveyard.

Those who live in the Tel Aviv metropolitan area and haven’t purchased a burial plot find themselves in the Yarkon Cemetery, where they are laid to rest in one of the new structures.

Burial slums

Prices range here between 8,000 shekels ($2,300) for a single person on the last floor to 50,000 ($14,400) for a couple on the ground floor.

Those who cannot afford even 8,000 shekels are buried in long rows of burial chambers in five or six levels inside the building. Tombstone on top of tombstone. It’s dense and crowded, but it’s also free.

Even here there is hierarchy: demand is higher for chambers on the lower rows, and the top rows are used mostly for single people.

With over 60,000 graves, the Yarkon Cemetery is Israel’s largest. Twenty-three years after its opening, occupancy rate is 80%.

So-called dense burial — in burial chambers within in public Jewish cemeteries run by the Chevra Kadhisha burial society — dates back to a 2009 government decision. And the Yarkon Cemetery has been a leader in such burial solutions. Overall, 15 burial buildings are planned. Three are currently under construction but have already been in use for a year.

Eran Freund, the project’s construction manager, is overseeing work on the site and says everything is strictly calculated. “No problem, anyone can be buried,” he says. “Inside, every grave is two meters deep. Two weeks ago, in another cemetery, they buried a person who weighed 190 kilos. They lowered him to the ground with a crane and buried him in this kind of grave. Even an NBA player could fit in. The gravediggers are very skilled.”

According to the Chevra Kadisha society, each grave costs about 6000 shekels, but the state subsidizes only 2000 shekels, so the difference is covered by those who buy burial plots. This way, those who want a premium product help pay for those who have no money to pay.

“We tried to come up with a reasonable mix,” says Rabbi Abraham Manella, CEO of Chevra Kadisha Tel Aviv. “But we realized we wouldn’t get the full funding for the project, and the finance ministry committed to covering the deficit if we can reach the quota.”

When the three burial buildings are completed, they will offer close to 35,000 burial spaces — enough for the Tel Aviv metropolitan area for the next five years. With the remaining 12 burial buildings, their 200,000 burial spaces should be enough for another 30 years.

In the second floor of one of these buildings, I meet a young woman, who is wiping the black marble gravestone of her mother’s tomb. “Both the funeral and the burial were a great financial expense for the family,” she says. “We thought it would be a standard grave, like we know. Not on the second floor. But what can you do? Even dying is expensive here.”

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What It Means When The Jews Of Germany No Longer Feel Safe

A neo-Nazi has been buried in the former grave of a Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender – not an oversight, but a deliberate provocation. This is just one more example of antisemitism on the rise in Germany, and society's inability to respond.

At a protest against antisemitism in Berlin

Eva Marie Kogel


BERLIN — If you want to check the state of your society, there's a simple test: as the U.S. High Commissioner for Germany, John Jay McCloy, said in 1949, the touchstone for a democracy is the well-being of Jews. This litmus test is still relevant today. And it seems Germany would not pass.

Incidents are piling up. Most recently, groups of neo-Nazis from across the country traveled to a church near Berlin for the funeral of a well-known far-right figure. He was buried in the former grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender, a gravesite chosen deliberately by the right-wing extremists.

The incident at the cemetery

They intentionally chose a Jewish grave as an act of provocation, trying to gain maximum publicity for this act of desecration. And the cemetery authorities at the graveyard in Stahnsdorf fell for it. The church issued an immediate apology, calling it a "terrible mistake" and saying they "must immediately see whether and what we can undo."

There are so many incidents that get little to no media attention.

It's unfathomable that this burial was allowed to take place at all, but now the cemetery authorities need to make a decision quickly about how to put things right. Otherwise, the grave may well become a pilgrimage site for Holocaust deniers and antisemites.

The incident has garnered attention in the international press and it will live long in the memory. Like the case of singer-songwriter Gil Ofarim, who recently claimed he was subjected to antisemitic abuse at a hotel in Leipzig. Details of the crime are still being investigated. But there are so many other incidents that get little to no media attention.

Photo of the grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender

The grave of Jewish musicologist Max Friedlaender

Jens Kalaene/dpa/ZUMA

Crimes against Jews are rising

Across all parts of society, antisemitism is on the rise. Until a few years ago, Jewish life was seen as an accepted part of German society. Since the attack on the synagogue in Halle in 2019, the picture has changed: it was a bitter reminder that right-wing terror against Jewish people has a long, unbroken history in Germany.

Stories have abounded about the coronavirus crisis being a Jewish conspiracy; meanwhile, Muslim antisemitism is becoming louder and more forceful. The anti-Israel boycott movement BDS rears its head in every debate on antisemitism, just as left-wing or post-colonial thinking are part of every discussion.

Jewish life needs to be allowed to step out of the shadows.

Since 2015, the number of antisemitic crimes recorded has risen by about a third, to 2,350. But victims only report around 20% of cases. Some choose not to because they've had bad experiences with the police, others because they're afraid of the perpetrators, and still others because they just want to put it behind them. Victims clearly hold out little hope of useful reaction from the state – so crimes go unreported.

And the reality of Jewish life in Germany is a dark one. Sociologists say that Jewish children are living out their "identity under siege." What impact does it have on them when they can only go to nursery under police protection? Or when they hear Holocaust jokes at school?

Germany needs to take its antisemitism seriously

This shows that the country of commemorative services and "stumbling blocks" placed in sidewalks as a memorial to victims of the Nazis has lost its moral compass. To make it point true north again, antisemitism needs to be documented from the perspective of those affected, making it visible to the non-Jewish population. And Jewish life needs to be allowed to step out of the shadows.

That is the first thing. The second is that we need to talk about specifically German forms of antisemitism. For example, the fact that in no other EU country are Jewish people so often confronted about the Israeli government's policies (according to a survey, 41% of German Jews have experienced this, while the EU average is 28%). Projecting the old antisemitism onto the state of Israel offers people a more comfortable target for their arguments.

Our society needs to have more conversations about antisemitism. The test of German democracy, as McCloy called it, starts with taking these concerns seriously and talking about them. We need to have these conversations because it affects all of us. It's about saving our democracy. Before it's too late.

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