Rabbi Rafi Ostroff serves as head of the religious council of Gush Etzion. In this role, he oversees kavod acharon, the final honors accorded to the deceased, for the region’s residents and its fallen soldiers, while also helping shape how Israel delivers religious services nationally. Rabbi Aron White sat down with Rabbi Ostroff to discuss an approach that is rooted in tradition yet strikingly innovative, one that allows Israel to honor its dead without losing sight of the needs of the living.

Tell us about your background and how you came to lead the Religious Council in Gush Etzion.

I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa, and grew up in a traditional Jewish home. After the Yom Kippur War, my parents made Aliyah, fulfilling a promise my father had made. We settled in Netanya, where I became active in Bnei Akiva, an experience that shaped my Religious Zionist identity.

I later studied in several yeshivot, including Merkaz HaRav and Yeshivat Har Etzion, where I received semicha. After marrying, my wife and I spent a year in Ukraine on behalf of the Orthodox Union, helping establish a Jewish community following the fall of Communism. When we returned to Israel, I managed the Chief Rabbinate’s Conversion Authority during a period of significant immigration from the former Soviet Union. I then spent many years with World Bnei Akiva, directing programs that brought young Jews from around the world to Israel – work that gave me a global perspective on Jewish life and its diverse challenges.

For the past fifteen years I have served as head of the Religious Council of Gush Etzion and its chevra kadisha. The role combines practical leadership with significant halachic responsibility, and every day brings new questions that require balancing Jewish law with the needs of a growing society.

Many readers outside Israel may not be familiar with a religious council. What does it actually do?

In chutz la’aretz, religious services – mikvaot, eruvin, kashrut, marriage registration, community rabbis, and the chevra kadisha – are provided through the local synagogue or Jewish community. In Israel, because the state serves as the framework for Jewish public life, these responsibilities are carried out by local religious councils. In Gush Etzion, for example, we have around 30,000 residents living in roughly thirty communities. We oversee two cemeteries and eighteen mikvaot, and support rabbis serving many of the communities. Although our central office is small, we coordinate dozens of employees across the region.

One unique aspect of the chevra kadisha is that much of its work is carried out by dedicated volunteers who serve families during some of life’s most profound moments.

How does the burial system work in Israel, particularly for people from overseas who wish to be buried here?

Every Israeli citizen registered with National Insurance is entitled to burial without charge in the area where they live. The local chevra kadisha guides the family through the entire process.

For those who are not Israeli residents, the system is different. Burial plots can be purchased, with prices varying by location. Jerusalem, for instance, commands higher prices because available land is limited. The sale of these plots also helps fund cemetery development. Unlike burial itself, the construction and expansion of cemeteries is not fully government-funded, so nonprofit chevra kadisha organizations rely on this income to meet the country’s growing needs.

You have spoken publicly about the challenges surrounding burial space in Israel. What makes this such a pressing issue?

After years in this field, I became convinced that the traditional approach to burial is no longer sustainable on its own. Israel’s population has now passed ten million and continues to grow. We have to think carefully about how we preserve both our values and our limited land. This is not a uniquely Israeli problem – many countries across Europe and around the world are grappling with the same challenge as a result of dramatic global population growth over the past century.

Over the past two decades, this has driven significant innovation in Israel. In major cities, burial is no longer limited to traditional single-level cemeteries. Purpose-built structures – including multi-level burial complexes and, in Jerusalem, underground burial tunnels – have been developed to make responsible use of available space. These solutions were carefully examined by leading halachic authorities and approved by the Chief Rabbinate, specifically designed so that every burial maintains the halachic requirement of connection to the earth. Israel has chosen a distinctive path: preserving the Jewish tradition of permanent burial while developing creative, halachically sound solutions for a growing population.

Around the world, many countries lease burial plots for a number of years before remains are respectfully reinterred elsewhere, allowing cemeteries to serve future generations. Israel, by contrast, provides permanent burial – but with a rapidly growing population, that model is becoming increasingly difficult to sustain.

As someone who has spent years studying Gemara and serving as head of a chevra kadisha, I began asking whether our own tradition offered another approach. During the Second Temple period, Chazal describe likkut atzamot, the respectful collection of bones approximately one year after burial and their placement in an ossuary. This practice appears throughout the Mishnah, Gemara, and Shulchan Aruch, so from a halachic perspective it is well established.

When I raised the idea with leading rabbis, no one questioned its halachic legitimacy. The hesitation was practical: would families accept it, how would it work today, and should longstanding custom be changed? Those questions led me to research the issue in depth, publish articles, speak at conferences, and establish a nonprofit organization dedicated to exploring this model as a sustainable solution for Israel.

We have since heard from thousands of people who say they would choose this approach – many see it as a way to preserve Israel’s limited land for future generations while remaining fully within the framework of halacha. It could also make family burial more achievable and significantly reduce costs.

I often think of Rabban Gamliel, who insisted on a simple burial so that financial pressures would not burden families. His example reminds us that Jewish tradition values dignity over extravagance. In our generation, perhaps we should be asking how burial can reflect responsibility toward the future – conserving land and resources for those who come after us.

How would likkut atzamot work in practice today?

The initial burial would look much like a traditional one, with the individual buried in the ground with full dignity and respect. After approximately one year, once the family has completed the traditional period of mourning, the chevra kadisha would carefully transfer the remains to a specially prepared ossuary in accordance with halachic guidelines.

The family could participate in a meaningful ceremony marking the conclusion of the first year, after which the ossuary would be placed permanently in a dedicated section of the cemetery with a memorial plaque. Families would continue to visit on yahrzeits and other occasions, exactly as they do today.

I find this especially meaningful because Jewish mourning already unfolds in carefully defined stages – shiva, shloshim, and the first year. This ceremony provides a natural conclusion to that process while preserving the dignity of the individual and creating a permanent place of remembrance.

Has this model been introduced in Gush Etzion yet?

Not yet, though we are actively working toward it. There are cemeteries elsewhere that are prepared to begin, but people naturally look for leadership before taking the first step.

The primary reservations have come from those concerned about changing established custom rather than from halachic objections. At the same time, I have received support from many highly respected rabbinic authorities across different communities. Some have spoken publicly, while others have expressed private encouragement but feel that introducing such a significant change requires broader consensus.

For me, this illustrates an important dimension of halachic leadership: sometimes the challenge is not determining what is permitted, but helping a community embrace change thoughtfully and responsibly.

What about Jews living overseas who purchase burial plots in Israel?

That continues exactly as before. In countries such as the United States, where land is more readily available, there is generally less urgency to consider alternatives. In parts of Europe, however, where permanent burial is often not possible, there has been growing interest in whether this model might offer an additional option.

I also believe these conversations extend beyond the Jewish community. Many societies are searching for environmentally sustainable approaches that still honor tradition and human dignity, and Jewish law has resources that may contribute meaningfully to that broader discussion.

Some have expressed concern that reviving likkut atzamot in Israel could encourage efforts to repurpose historic Jewish cemeteries in Europe. I see those as entirely separate issues. The preservation of Jewish heritage sites, particularly in places where once-vibrant communities were destroyed, remains vitally important. At the same time, we must address the real needs of a growing Jewish population in Israel and plan responsibly for future generations.

Before we finish – Gush Etzion’s cemetery has particular historical significance, doesn’t it?

It does. The cemetery dates back to the original Gush Etzion communities before the establishment of the State of Israel. Following the Six-Day War, when Jewish life returned to Gush Etzion, the cemetery was re-established and has served the region ever since.

In recent years it has become the resting place of members of the security forces from the area who gave their lives in service of the country. Their presence has added another layer of meaning – making it a place that reflects both the history of Gush Etzion and the enduring commitment of its people.

For many visitors, it has become not only a place of remembrance but of gratitude and inspiration, connecting past generations with those who continue to build and protect the State of Israel.