Chaverotai (My friends):
In the Reform version of Jewish liturgy, there is a passage that is recited in the early morning service, part of the birchot ha-shachar (blessings of dawn.) This passage, from the Talmud, says, "“Here are the things which are (completed) without study . . ." and it continues with a list of mitzvot which cover different aspects of Jewish living. Several of the examples are in the category of g’milut chasadim — acts of loving-kindness. In this passage, these include: visiting the sick, rejoicing with the bride and groom, burying the dead and comforting the mourner. The study of Torah, the Talmudic passage tells us, is equal to all of these mitzvot, because the study of Torah leads to them. If we study, for example, parashat Chaye Sarah ("The Life of Sarah" which really is about the death of Sarah imenu )Sarah, our mother), we learn about how to behave when a death occurs, and, hopefully, that guides our actual behavior.
In fact, those who study Torah regularly may in fact find themselves more mindful of observing the mitzvot in their traditional definition. However, an inquiry of exactly how to observe the mitzvot can lead to many questions. Being a vessel of loving-kindness sounds good, but is not always that simple. I believe our community has developed a strong communal ethic around observing the mitzvot of g’milut chasadim, and there is always room to grow.
I would like to focus here on the mitzvah of comforting the mourner, nichum avelim in the Hebrew. Exactly how does one go about performing this mitzvah? We know that in traditional practice, when a loved one dies, the immediate family is obliged to bury the deceased within 48 hours barring extenuating circumstances and then enter themselves into a week of formal mourning called shivah, denoting the seven day period. During this week the mourners are expected to refrain from regular business, both personal and professional, to begin saying a daily kaddish in memory of the deceased, and to place themselves in the shivah home to receive the comfort of those in their community and extended family. Men do not shave and women do adorn themselves; mirrors in the home are covered. When the seven days are completed, our tradition instructs us to observe shloshim, an additional period adding up to thirty days during which time the mourners may return to regular business, but refrain from "frivolous activity" such as parties, concerts, etc.
From hearing the stories of mourners and from experiencing personal loss ourselves, we know that losing a loved one can create a mosaic of contrasting emotions ranging from profound sadness to anger to guilt to relief. If the loss has been sudden or untimely, the feeling of bewilderment is even greater. Jewish tradition says we should not have to bear this burden alone. Community members have a specific role to play in comforting the mourner and it is quite distinct from other roles that we play with one another. Comforting a mourner is a unique, self-exclusive activity, different from all other social interaction in which we participate. Because of this, observing this mitzvah is sometimes daunting to us. We’re not sure how to behave from the logistics of when to come and what to bring to the more substantive questions of how to relate to a mourner. What does comfort actually look like?
The answers to this question have changed over the many generations of Jewish religious evolution, and are especially unclear in our present generation when a funeral may take place in one city and the shivah in another. On the other hand, certain basic aspects of human experience are timeless. Here is a st arting place.
In our community, our life cycle committee (currently chaired by Barbara Berger and Clint Wolcott) works in coordination with our clergy and office staff to organize around news of a loss in an Adat Shalom household. As soon as shivah information is clarified, the news is passed on to the community via our listserv and by announcements from the bimah. Those announcements are made in order to let the community members know that this mitzvah of comforting the mourner is presenting itself to all of us. This means we are commanded to show up whether the mourner is well known to us or not. Jewish tradition is clear on this: This mitzvah, like all others, is a commandment, an obligation, not a good deed we may or may not choose to follow. This is an especially important point for our community at a time when we are growing so fast that we cannot possibly know all the members of the community.
When do we show up? At the funeral or memorial service, when possible. And more importantly at the home of the mourner, to pay a shivah call, to help make a minyan or to bring items that may be needed. Here is where we can understand about the very distinct nature of giving comfort. In modern American society, we are taught to behave according to a social code, and we feel quite inappropriate if we stray from it. For instance, in American society one does not go the home of one who is a stranger, and yet, Jewish tradition says differently. Jewish tradition says that performing a mitzvah goes above this social code. When you are notified of a death in your community, you make arrangements to be present during the shivah period. Even more importantly, Jewish tradition says that we must visit the mourner, but not say a word! Not until we are spoken to do we speak. This means we do not ring the doorbell or knock unless the door is locked, we do not greet the mourner or announce our arrival. We do not try to engage them in any conversation, until they initiate it. Why? Because Judaism recognizes that everyone experiences death differently and that we as comforters cannot possibly know what mourners need from us until we are in their presence and we listen. We wait and we listen, and then we will know whether simply sitting together in silence or listening to weeping or hearing memories or even funny stories is the rule of the day.
In order for us to fulfill this mitzvah, we have to break through our own discomfort at not knowing. We have to learn to simply be present, to bring ourselves to a mourner’s home with no agenda, with no goals. When we are able to put ourselves in this position, we are better poised to listen and to hear and to respond to what the needs of the moment are. We may not be able to cheer the person. We may not be able to help them deal with their grief in that moment. In fact, that is not our task. Our task as comforters is simply to be a companion, to let those who mourn know that they are still connected to the land of the living and that, eventually, they will return to a place of equilibrium.
May we all partake in the blessing of community in this and every way.
B’vracha,
Hazzan Rachel