Plans had been to bury the Torah, along with old tallesim, tefillin, and prayer books, at the synagogue's plot at the Fountain Lawn Cemetery, but when they couldn't work things out with the grave diggers' union for a Sunday burial, they decided to bury the sacred objects on their own property.

A short service was held at 11:45 a.m. on Dec.16, led by Rabbi Daniel T. Grossman and Cantor Art Katlin. Then congregants moved across the lawn to the burial spot, lining up to place symbolic shovels of dirt atop the Torah and other objects. Members then returned to the synagogue for the traditional meal of consolation that follows a funeral.

As the memorial service ended, Rabbi Grossman pointed to an artistic rendering of the Hebrew word "zachor," or "remember," at the synagogue entrance. "We will remember this day, which we are unlikely to ever see again. It unites us with generations of the past but gives us a dedication to this community, not only to its 85-year history, but to the future and the future and the future," Grossman said.

To show proper respect for the Torah, it was placed inside two unglazed pots that were lashed together. Surrounding it in the large pit were sets of books from Germany and other parts of the world, including a late 19th century prayer book from Warsaw, Poland.

Congregant Carol Greenfield-Dubin buried an old, stained tallis from her father, who had designed the Zachor monument 14 years ago. He was buried in another tallis, from Israel, and the third went to his grandson on his bar mitzvah.

Bethany Harris, a religious-school student, was impressed with the ceremony.

"It's quite muddy, but it's a once-in-a-lifetime experience," she said.

Given the small size of the Jewish community in total and the small number of Torahs in any given community, she noted, "This normally doesn't happen."

Another student, Emily Clagett, said, "I liked having the experience -- the fact that we were putting away sacred things and doing it as a whole community was really nice."

Katlin stood in line with his son Aaron, who observed, "It's cool because life that came from nature is going back to nature." Then he listed all of the "live" parts of the Torah: its parchment comes from a cow, its spindles from a tree, the ink from natural ingredients, and the thread holding it together from the sinews of an animal.

Katlin added, "It's a fabulous experience to be able to be part of the creation of a Torah and see first hand that when a Torah is no longer viable to be used as a holy object, it is treated with the same care, compassion, and sensitivity as any holy object, including human beings."

Grossman described preparing the Torah for burial and gathering together the books to be buried, with the help of the synagogue's teenagers. First the Torah had to be taken off its etz chaim, or wooden spindles.

"When I had to take the knife and cut the threads, I was in tears," he said. Even though he knew he was doing what he was supposed to, he kept thinking about the teaching surrounding a living Torah: That it can't be touched without washing one's hands and that it may not be dropped. As he and his 18-year-old son lashed together the two terra cotta containers, he said, both were in tears.

The rainy day seemed to Rabbi Grossman a perfect setting for the service and burial.

"It was appropriate that it was rainy and windy," he said. "There was a sense of enormous sadness about the reality of it."

There had been some discussion of putting the Torah in a case, but the decision was to bury it.

"The Torah should be something living," Katlin said, citing a poignant song about a Torah that had been passed down, held in people's arms, read, and constantly involved in human contact, whose demise came when it was placed in a case.

Elayne Grossman added, "It is sad that the Torah can no longer be used, but there is great dignity in giving it a proper end."

"When such objects have outlived their utility, becoming faded, torn or worn out through usage and time," Grossman explained, "they do not lose their sacred character and must be disposed of in consecrated soil with the same reverence and honors due a dead human being. A damaged Torah that can not be repaired is kept in the synagogue ark along with those in active use until burial."

Adath Israel, which is celebrating its 85th year, is dedicating its year-long anniversary celebration to special events revolving around the Torah. The congregation, last month, began the writing of a new Torah scroll. Rabbi Grossman noted that the fundraising surrounding the burial of the old Torah and the creation of the new one will also enable the repair of three other Torahs. But, he concluded, "What is most significant for me is the teaching that's possible."