When a Jewish person dies, family members in mourning “sit
shiva,” the practice of inviting community members over each evening for one week to say prayers for the dead and comfort the family. Traditionally, the prayers cannot be performed unless a group of ten people or more, known as a
minyan, is present at the home.
Immediately after losing a family member, most people are understandably devastated. Without an outside voice, the mood inside the home is almost exclusively that of sadness and loss. Each family member’s gloom reinforces that of the others. The general silence directs family members’ focus inward, where thoughts are invariably dominated by the recent loss. Recovery is long and slow.
The genius behind the
shiva concept is lies in its pragmatism. By formalizing visits to the home for every day immediately after death,
shiva ensures mourners have little time to sink in to silent despair because they are too busy entertaining guests, who themselves serve to enliven the general mood by providing sympathetic words, fresh perspectives, and lighthearted distractions. The concept of the
minyan provides a good turnout because community members are driven to attend by the fear that prayer services will be cancelled if they stay at home. After completion of the prayers, a boisterous, lively conversation ensues, driven by the large crowd.
As for my experience, my sadness from mom’s death has been surprisingly manageable; meditation, staying positive, and expressing love and happiness for mom before she left have each contributed to my stability. My father doesn’t seem to be coping as easily. With some thought, the disparity is quite reasonable. Everyone subconsciously assumes that grandparents and parents will die first, but, barring a large age difference, nobody expects a significant other to die. A slightly unrealistic denial prevents those thoughts from ever carrying any serious weight, leaving us completely unprepared when it happens, even though it is inevitable for one member of the couple.
As a result, many people come over at all times of day to try to lift dad’s spirits. Many are adept at mixing comforting words with happy stories about mom. Others seem to talk more about themselves, but at least temporarily distract dad from his brooding thoughts. However, most seem unaware that their selfless objectives are sometimes in subtle conflict with the outcomes of their actions.
Most people expect us to be in a perpetual state of profound sadness (or at least any time they visit). However, that’s just not the case; nobody can stay in a state of gloom permanently. A problem arises when people attempt to commiserate with or console the mourners when they aren’t even feeling sad, because the only socially acceptable response for the mourner is to revive the sadness so as to graciously accept the condolences. The end result is the revival and reinforcement of sadness, which prolongs the mourning period – hardly a practical approach to helping someone cope.
To give an example, dad will be in a fairly good mood after doing some cleaning. A friend then comes over and, in a fully heartfelt manner, expresses her condolences. She says that he must be feeling so devastated. Although dad was feeling fine, he does not want to appear insensitive or detached, so he says that yes, he is in shock. He cites specific examples of the magnitude of his sadness (inability to sleep, feelings of confusion and loss), and in the process reminds himself of these feelings. His mood begins to shift back towards mourning. Worst of all, just as repeating a lesson solidifies its effect on the mind, so too will the sadness more firmly entrench itself in his long-term mood with each expression of mourning.
There is no doubt that everyone wants to help. None of our friends want to see us suffer. But due to the subtle effects of the mind, attempting to commiserate with a mourner may actually have the negative effect of prolonging suffering. While far from perfect, my personal method would be to greet the mourner with a smile and try to keep the conversation as cheery as possible, all the while making an effort to read his mood. I’d rather try to lead him to a brighter day than force him to relive his sadness.
After all, life goes on…
