It is taught that in the time of the Second Temple, mourners could not enter the Temple on the first or second day, but on the third day of mourning they could. But, they had to go in a different entrance, and walk the mourners path. While everyone else was walking to the right, they were walking to the left. Imagine the scene – the great courtyard where most people are walking in one direction, and a few were walking the other way, into the oncoming traffic.
Rabbi Anne Brenner, the author of Mourning and Mitzvah explains that there were advantages for both the mourners and non-mourners.
For the mourners, they were seen by the entire community. And unlike today, when people are not sure what to say to someone who has suffered a loss, people were instructed to say “May the one who dwells in this house comfort you.” In addition, the mourner could see others from the community who made it through the path of mourning, and returned to the regular flow of life, which can give hope that they too will recover from the deep pain of grief.
For non mourners who had never walked the Mourner's Path, Rabbi Brenner said “They looked into the face of grief and learned that death and loss are part of life. Knowing that someday they too would walk this path, they could prepare themselves for that eventuality.”
It is a lesson that I am still learning.
Years ago, my father was in town for the High Holidays, and he asked me stay with him for Yizkor. I refused, I said no, based on the superstition that going to Yizkor could bring the aiyn ha’ra, evil eye on my parents. My father doesn’t ask for a lot, but he asked me several times, saying it was ok for me to stay, and it was a beautiful service that he wanted to share with me. Unfortunately, I still said no. The irony does not escape me that at the time I was a scientist, not yet embarked on my spiritual journey, yet was influenced by this superstition. It is one of the strongest regrets I have, not staying with my father that day.
I don’t know the origins of this superstition, or whether it came to America from Europe. I do, however, think this superstition was supported by an American culture that denies death. It was so easy for me to fall into denial – I remember being terrified. Don’t make me go in there. I don’t want to think that you and mom and me and my wife and daughter will all someday be gone.
Avoiding death is not healthy, and leads to all kinds of awkward and inappropriate questions and attitudes. I am just continually amazed at all of the training Judaism provides to help us through these situations. Moreover, or tradition adapts to the needs of the time.
For example, Yizkor first started as a community prayer after the terrible massacres during the cruisades in the 11th century. The names of the dead were read aloud, and prayers were said. This is the key piece – it was about community, bringing people together to remember the dead and to support one another. Saying prayers for the dead, giving tzedakah, those are the explicit things we do. But something else happens when we are together, we see one another and know we are not alone. We can share memories of those who have died, and we can tend to our grief.
Grief expert and author David Kessler offers a model of grief in which we move in and out of grief. At the beginning it is very intense, and over time grief changes. But even in those earlier months, we can take breaks from grief. We can watch a movie and enjoy it, or go out for dancing lessons. And sometimes, we can schedule a time for grief, to allow us to experience the pain of the loss, and then put it aside as we attend to the needs of life.
Our Jewish tradition seems to implicitly understand this dynamic, because we are offered times to revist our grief. This includes the yartzeit, the anniversary of someone’s death, and the four yizkor services a year.
Why 4? I kept reading and researching trying to find an answer that satisfied me. I couldn’t. Every source I came across said the same thing – since we give tzedahah to honor the memory of the deceased, and since offerings were part of the pilgrimage festivals to the temple, they added Yizkor to Shavuot, Passover, and Sukkot. While I don’t doubt this explanation on some level, it feels incomplete.
I think the answer also incorporates something Rabbi Ezray said in his sermon on Friday, and Kessler’s model about moving in and out of grief. Rabbi Ezray reminded us that it is healing to do things for other people. Giving tzedakah is healing, to us. And Kessler suggests that it is healing to revisit grief, especially in a safe and supportive environment.
I think once a year was not enough. We need 4 opportunities a year for Yizkor. Some may go to all 4, many may go just once. But this infrastructure is here to help us.
I also think I missed something important when my dad asked me to stay with him for Yizkor. Maybe he was missing his mother, wanted me to be there with him, but could not ask. He is not one to talk about feelings. And that is perhaps my biggest regret – that I missed an opportunity to do the mitzvah of comforting a mourner.
It is taught that in the time of the second temple, those in mourning could return on the third day. They entered through the mourners gate, and walked the mourners path. But is wasn’t only those mourning a death who walked the mourners path. Three other types of people also walked to the left
1. Cargivers – people caring for a sick relative
2. People isolated from the community through excommunication
3. People who have lost something.
Each of these is a different type of loss, and can bring disorientation, overwhelm, and sadness similar to the death of a loved one.
And the treatment is the same – to come face to face with members of the community, to be seen, and to feel their support.
Rabbi Anne Brenner, the author of Mourning and Mitzvah explains that there were advantages for both the mourners and non-mourners.
For the mourners, they were seen by the entire community. And unlike today, when people are not sure what to say to someone who has suffered a loss, people were instructed to say “May the one who dwells in this house comfort you.” In addition, the mourner could see others from the community who made it through the path of mourning, and returned to the regular flow of life, which can give hope that they too will recover from the deep pain of grief.
For non mourners who had never walked the Mourner's Path, Rabbi Brenner said “They looked into the face of grief and learned that death and loss are part of life. Knowing that someday they too would walk this path, they could prepare themselves for that eventuality.”
It is a lesson that I am still learning.
Years ago, my father was in town for the High Holidays, and he asked me stay with him for Yizkor. I refused, I said no, based on the superstition that going to Yizkor could bring the aiyn ha’ra, evil eye on my parents. My father doesn’t ask for a lot, but he asked me several times, saying it was ok for me to stay, and it was a beautiful service that he wanted to share with me. Unfortunately, I still said no. The irony does not escape me that at the time I was a scientist, not yet embarked on my spiritual journey, yet was influenced by this superstition. It is one of the strongest regrets I have, not staying with my father that day.
I don’t know the origins of this superstition, or whether it came to America from Europe. I do, however, think this superstition was supported by an American culture that denies death. It was so easy for me to fall into denial – I remember being terrified. Don’t make me go in there. I don’t want to think that you and mom and me and my wife and daughter will all someday be gone.
Avoiding death is not healthy, and leads to all kinds of awkward and inappropriate questions and attitudes. I am just continually amazed at all of the training Judaism provides to help us through these situations. Moreover, or tradition adapts to the needs of the time.
For example, Yizkor first started as a community prayer after the terrible massacres during the cruisades in the 11th century. The names of the dead were read aloud, and prayers were said. This is the key piece – it was about community, bringing people together to remember the dead and to support one another. Saying prayers for the dead, giving tzedakah, those are the explicit things we do. But something else happens when we are together, we see one another and know we are not alone. We can share memories of those who have died, and we can tend to our grief.
Grief expert and author David Kessler offers a model of grief in which we move in and out of grief. At the beginning it is very intense, and over time grief changes. But even in those earlier months, we can take breaks from grief. We can watch a movie and enjoy it, or go out for dancing lessons. And sometimes, we can schedule a time for grief, to allow us to experience the pain of the loss, and then put it aside as we attend to the needs of life.
Our Jewish tradition seems to implicitly understand this dynamic, because we are offered times to revist our grief. This includes the yartzeit, the anniversary of someone’s death, and the four yizkor services a year.
Why 4? I kept reading and researching trying to find an answer that satisfied me. I couldn’t. Every source I came across said the same thing – since we give tzedahah to honor the memory of the deceased, and since offerings were part of the pilgrimage festivals to the temple, they added Yizkor to Shavuot, Passover, and Sukkot. While I don’t doubt this explanation on some level, it feels incomplete.
I think the answer also incorporates something Rabbi Ezray said in his sermon on Friday, and Kessler’s model about moving in and out of grief. Rabbi Ezray reminded us that it is healing to do things for other people. Giving tzedakah is healing, to us. And Kessler suggests that it is healing to revisit grief, especially in a safe and supportive environment.
I think once a year was not enough. We need 4 opportunities a year for Yizkor. Some may go to all 4, many may go just once. But this infrastructure is here to help us.
I also think I missed something important when my dad asked me to stay with him for Yizkor. Maybe he was missing his mother, wanted me to be there with him, but could not ask. He is not one to talk about feelings. And that is perhaps my biggest regret – that I missed an opportunity to do the mitzvah of comforting a mourner.
It is taught that in the time of the second temple, those in mourning could return on the third day. They entered through the mourners gate, and walked the mourners path. But is wasn’t only those mourning a death who walked the mourners path. Three other types of people also walked to the left
1. Cargivers – people caring for a sick relative
2. People isolated from the community through excommunication
3. People who have lost something.
Each of these is a different type of loss, and can bring disorientation, overwhelm, and sadness similar to the death of a loved one.
And the treatment is the same – to come face to face with members of the community, to be seen, and to feel their support.