Category: Grief

Shabbat Shalom

At this difficult time, we pray for peace.   And as we pray, give generously to alleviate some of the suffering- reach out to the JDC, Doctors without Borders, World Union for Progressive Judaism, or whichever group you know is trying to reach those in need.

Shabbat Shalom

I hope that this Adon Olam, composed by Cantor Pinchas Minkowsky (1859-1924) of the Brodsky Synagogue in Odessa inspires your prayers and actions for peace in Ukraine. Praying for the safety of the Ukrainian people and wishing you a Shabbat Shalom

What is the right way to mourn?

In Judaism, it is pretty straightforward.  We have a series of rituals and traditions that serve to guide us.  But the answer is more nuanced depending in considerable measure on who you are and the relationship to the deceased.

Judaism compels us to “do the right thing.” It is one of our tradition’s great insights. Doing what we are supposed to do is affirming the bereaved’s humanity and sense of ethics.  Even if the relationship was fraught, Judaism provides the ability to rise above circumstances instead of becoming a victim to circumstances.

In this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, we read that when Sarah died, Abraham wept (Genesis 23:2).  But as is the case with Torah, there is more here than the words of the verse.  The Torah has one of the letters of the Hebrew word for wept, livkotah, the kaf, printed physically smaller than the other letters.  Our sages saw this as purposeful and concluded that this indicated that Abraham cried only a little.  Why would Abraham not weep fully?

Perhaps he was overcome by guilt, bearing responsibility for her death.  Midrashim tell of Sarah dying of a broken heart when she learns Abraham took their precious son Isaac and sacrificed to God on Mount Moriah.  And to further compound things, Abraham knows in his heart that he would do the same thing again to prove his loyalty to God.

There are many reasons why we are unable to be fully present when we experience loss.

For example, Abraham negotiated for the burial cave and immediately focused on sending his servant to find a wife for Isaac.  Most of us have experience with people focusing on funeral planning as a means of diversion from confronting the pain of loss.  And many people experience complicated grief or ambivalence over the death of someone ostensibly close.

Our tradition offers us a roadmap of sorts when for the process of death and grief.  My teacher Rabbi Dr. Michael Chernick wrote that we have obligations and responsibilities as the surviving loved one.  Whether we loved them or even liked them, whether they were good to us or not, for our own sake, we need to do certain things on behalf of those who die. So we learned that despite Abraham’s weeping, or lack thereof, he purchased the cave at Machpelah and buried Sarah there.

As a rabbi, I am often asked how do I bury my loved one correctly?  The fact that someone would ask means that, on some level, they already are.  Together we can explore ways to help them.

But that is different from dictating what to do or how to feel.  We have a framework.  The task is to understand how our tradition can provide the honor of the deceased and comfort for the bereaved.

Recently, two adult children asked me to officiate the unveiling for their father.  Then they changed their minds, cavalierly saying that as only a couple of prayers need to be spoken, they could do it without the expense of a rabbi in attendance.  Besides, he (their father) never would have won father of the year.

As I listened, I knew that they would honor their father, but I also knew they were about to miss out on that crucial second piece of our tradition’s wisdom, finding their comfort.  We spent some time talking as I was wearing my chaplain’s kippah.  But I didn’t press.  I hoped they might process the unveiling and the loss in a constructive way and bring them comfort and healing.

How do you process complicated grief?  Abraham demonstrates that the question has been around for a long time. So may we find comfort in our memories of those deceased as we embrace the idea that they may be for us a blessing.

 

 

To Mom, Zichronah Livracha- a toast with Chocolate Milk

A small gathering of family said goodbye to the matriarch this past Sunday.  Adult children and wives, adult grandchildren, and a “bun in the oven.”  I was asked to officiate because that is what the family believed mom would have wanted.  They and their mother understood themselves in a humanist way, but they believed it was the appropriate honor for mom- to bury her Jewishly.  The boys never had a chance to have this conversation with her as she had dementia that ravaged her by the end.

I did my best to honor her and those who were trying to honor their mother by weaving rituals with stories that each family member was eager to share and reluctant to stop.  This beautiful family time ended by raising a glass of chocolate milk, mom’s favorite drink, toasting her life and the family that is her legacy.

As I was preparing to leave, the sons presented me with the replica Torah Scrolls given to each of them by the rabbi from their Bar Mitzvah.  They found them among the few possessions mom brought with her to the care facility.

May her life be for a blessing.

Remembering Pittsburgh- Stronger than Hate

The tragic murder of 11 people one year ago in Pittsburgh is a harsh reminder that hatred is real and we are not always in control of events.  Things often happen to us.   As painful, hurtful, or even devastating as something can be, how we react is in our control.  What is the life-lesson that we learn and how do we actively embrace that life lesson going forward?

Do we react cynically or with an open, albeit wounded, heart?  Can we forgive? Will this event haunt us holding us back, or compel us to move onward? What is the vision of the future we see that is shaped by what happened, what is the world we want to see, and how will we get there?

I struggle with an anger and pain that could be overwhelming, especially as one of the Rabbis initially deploying to Pittsburgh with the Red Cross in the immediate aftermath of the shooting.  Our Jewish tradition helps me re-center myself.  Here I can embrace the timeless values that understand the human condition and provide a framework for a just society where we all might live in peace, based on the idea that we should treat our neighbors as ourselves.   But it is a hard climb up to that mountaintop.

This is the challenge of Pittsburgh.  Our hearts ache for those lost as a result of violent Anti-Semitism.  We take solace in the love of our neighbors and find strength standing shoulder to shoulder with other people of goodwill to continue to strive for the kind of just society we want America to be.

Our tradition is one of deeds.  Our response to this tragedy needs to be more than a feeling.  There are many ways to respond through civic involvement and community activism.  Judaism requires that we belong to a community committed to promoting our values be it a synagogue, philanthropy, or civil rights group.  The important thing is that you are compelled to respond with actions to live the values of our tradition and to build a better world.   What will you do?

Zichronam Livracha and Shabbat Shalom.

Where do we go from here?

Dayton and El Paso are still so fresh that we have not even been able to bury our dead.  We are reeling.  And we struggle with what to do now.

We are now engaged in a fight over whether guns kill people or people do.  It is an unproductive food-fight. Red Flag legislation is beginning to be floated, but the Toomey-Manchin bill on background checks is off the table for now. If the Senate is unable to muster the courage to confront this seemingly simple issue, but surprisingly risky statesmanship, there are important things they can do. First and foremost is to write legislation regarding domestic terrorism that gives the Department of Justice and law enforcement the ability and requisite funding to infiltrate the groups and preempt the violence that is plaguing us, while maintaining bedrock civil liberties of free speech and due process.

This important next step, however, does nothing to address the other issues of gun violence.  Suicide, crimes of passion, gang violence remain real threats that take thousands of lives in our country every year.  These do not get the attention that mass casualty events command, but they are no less horrific. Essentially, guns used by people kill people.  The proliferation of guns and the willingness of people to use them are both responsible for the carnage that is part of American culture.

Reducing the bloodshed is where we should be focused.  The Second Amendment is not under assault, we are.  Let us try to start the dialogues that can make a difference while respecting the concerns and rights of citizens.  The most fundamental right being the right to life.

What now?

With the marking of Sheloshim for the victims in Pittsburgh and the passage of time, an important question is now being raised, where do we go from here?  Or more simply put, What Now? 

In the aftermath of tragedy, it is important to rebuild and move forward.  In response to a natural disaster, the need to rebuild is clear.  Houses, infrastructure, all of the things physicallydamaged or destroyed need to be put back into place, often rebuilt from scratch.  But with a disaster of this nature, the rebuilding is not so clearly defined.  What is the enduring message we want our rebuilding to carry?  

How do we honor the legacy of those taken from us, the outpouring of support from the greater community, the lastingJewish values that have kept our people and our tradition and will continue to do so?  Other difficult but important questions to consider include these:  Anti-violence training prompted someone to ask how can she run to safety, when saving herself means she leaves behind the more vulnerable?  Another question, how do we practice hospitality and welcome people into our Jewish homes (synagogues), when the front door is locked or attended by an armed guard?  How can we feel safe when anti-Semitic incidents are not only on the rise, but  finding new levels of public acceptance?

There is an urge to rebuild the physical structures quickly, to return to normal and stand up to the hatred with defiance.   But there was an important lesson learned from rebuilding lower Manhattan post 9/11.  The deliberate but protracted process achieved amazing results.  What was no longer is and recreating something from before does not acknowledge the event that has irrevocably changed us.  The memorials honor the event and the human tragedy as well as the spirit of courage, hope and love.  So too, the Shanksville memorial that I visited on my return from Pittsburgh is a moving and thoughtful tribute to the brave men and women on that fateful flight, United #93.  It is prudent to resist the temptation to act too quickly, opting instead for aslower and deliberative process.  The result will hopefully become an enduring symbol of strength, courage, hope and love, the best aspirations of our tradition.  

The process of recovery will take time.  It is a natural desire to try to shorten, if not deny, the grieving process.  But our tradition clearly understands the importance of this special time.  We grieve and then slowly begin the process of reintegrating ourselves into life with the experience and pain of loss a new part of us.  Only then might we gain a new perspective.  And from this perspective, we can create something honoring those we have lost and promoting our values for the sake of the generations to come.