Dear Mrs. Bluth,
There has been much written in The Jewish Press of late, dealing with the topic of how one must act when visiting a shiva house. I was never keen on learning the dinim about this topic because I was very young when my father passed away. All I do remember is so many people coming and going at our house, hugging my mother and bringing plates and boxes of fruits, sweets and pastries. My sister and I were just six years old (we were twins) and we loved the attention people lavished on us for those seven days. My mother also drew much comfort from the stories and remembrances people spoke about my father and she smiled through her tears. This I do remember.
Ten days ago, my sister passed away. My better half, my best friend, my sister who was six minutes older than I, who made me an aunt of three great kids and my mother a grandmother. My buddy who became a nurse so she could help heal the world, the optimist to my pessimistic nature quietly passed away in her sleep at the ripe old age of fifty-three and forgot to take me with her. She didn’t suffer the pain of her massive heart attack, but made her exit quietly, leaving the pain for us.
The funeral was amazing in that I didn’t know she had so many friends. She never really spoke about her work. When she would get home it was all about family. Her husband and children are absolutely lost and the grief is palpable. My mother, in a state of shock and in the throws of Alzheimer’s is either weeping non-stop or blissfully unaware that her eldest daughter has departed without so much as a kiss on the cheek or a wave goodbye and constantly called out for her at the levaya. I held her close while being in my own shock and stupor and tried to keep her from going into the grave to join my sister. This is the stuff movies are made of, but the shiva was far worse.
So many people from our shul came and filled up every chair in our large living room, yet, the only sound one heard was my mother keening and wailing and calling for my sister. No one spoke, no one had words of comfort for the grieving, only silence that rang louder than my mother’s cries. On the third night, when I just couldn’t take the ridiculous silence of the crowd, a voice in the second row of chairs rang out. The gentleman dressed in a black waistcoat with a preacher’s white collar stood up and addressed us saying apologetically that he was the Catholic chaplain in the hospital where my sister had worked. He begged our forgiveness for speaking but he just wanted to tell us how loved and respected my sister was by both staff and patients and how very much she will be missed. For the ten minutes this man spoke, my mother ceased to cry she asked him questions about his work with my sister and even smiled when this kind gentleman told her some funny stories about how my sister tried to cheer up some of the patients who were having a hard time. The change in all of us by his words and remembrances gave us such comfort and peace. It encouraged others in the room to offer up their own recalls. Where were these people before the chaplain came? Why did it take a Catholic chaplain to give my mother such comfort while all the people up until then just sat starring at their hands like a bunch of deaf mutes until he took the helm to bring forth the comfort and soothing message.
I read, only later from reading The Jewish Press that until the mourner speaks, no one is permitted to speak up. That makes absolutely no sense to me seeing as my mother and I were wallowing in our grief at the weight of our loss to get a conversation started. Anyone that conceives the conversation in a shiva house will turn into fits of laughter and levity should have their head examined. the grieving folk are in no position to start a conversation without breaking down. It amazes me to this moment that it took a Catholic chaplain to deliver true nichum aveilim to us when we needed it most.
Dear Friend,
Please accept my condolences on the loss of your beloved sister. I fully understand your consternation and feelings of upset at the fact that people just sat, not saying a word and that until the chaplain spoke, no one said a word at the time when the aveilim needed it most. Not every shiva turns into a three ring circus with loud laughter and boisterous levity, but some stories about the deceased that bring a smile or even soft laughter to comfort the bereaved should be acceptable.
There are many things we do not understand, the ban on speaking before the avel speaks or sheluach hakan, sending the mother bird away from the nest in order to say a bracha while holding her eggs being just two of them. However, our job is not to question too long so as not to come to the wrong conclusion. Best to ask a rav to explain it so you can better understand that everything that we are commanded to do has an excellent reason and answer. Once you understand and accept the logic behind it, I’m sure your enlightened state of mind will draw comfort and solace thereof. Hamakom yenachem etchem betoch saree aveley tzion v’Yerushalayim.
