When Love Ruins the Line: The Cemetery Shura and Walking Through the Sea of Grief
Written in loving memory of Aunt Debbie—what the rows of comforters at a Jewish burial teach us about carrying one another through loss
Written In memory of my aunt Debbie who passed this week and as a source of comfort (hopefully) to my mother who just hours ago stood up from sitting shiva.
The very air in a home thickens with grief, as the sudden piercing of sorrow bearing the news of a death, designates it as a "house of mourning" — like the stamping of a seal bearing an official proclamation—signalling to whatever it is that "will never be the same again" that from here on, it will never be the same again.
You stare at your reflection in the mirror, and only a disheveled dish towel smugly returns your gaze, as if to ask with a hint of snark—"what were you expecting to see there?"
The enveloping nature of grief however, is quickly neutralized when countered with an effulgence of love. The house of Avelut, (mourning) is ALSO A Shiva House. The broken heart that aches with loss in a house of mourning, also finds comfort in the fullness of a heart brimming with gifts of tenderness and memory, delivered by an endless stream of visitors—couriers of love, and even laughter, parading through a house of Shiva. There is no cordoning off of human attunement—in this disaster area. "The cup can still runneth over," even though the "heart is broken"
There is even a preview of this, a micro Shiva, while still at the cemetery, known as a Shura; a "Line." Just before leaving, at the close of a funeral service, a human pathway, consisting of friends, family, loved ones, and one's fellow community members form two lines. In order to get to the waiting cars to head back home, the mourners must pass through the middle, surrounded on both sides by human love and comfort.
To deepen this a bit, I want to first paraphrase Rabbi Abraham the son of Maimonides, commenting on the irony of the elderly Patriarch Isaac, who seems to wander "off script" in demonstrating a greater concern for his OTD son Esau, over Jacob, the one who would carry forth his legacy.
"Yes, I know that the blessings should be directed to where the "family business" most requires it, but "Ahavah Mekalkelet Et Hashura" Love, or what Donna Tart calls in "The Goldfinch" "the jolt at the end of the line," has its own "mind," and isn't necessarily committed to towing that "line."
So back to the cemetery. As the mourners "walk the line" —what should have felt like a veritable gauntlet of grief, is transformed into a "lane of love" where people form a passageway of protection, functioning like the splitting of the sea, where the crushing waves of destruction are parted, tne dry land makes "walking" doable, and drowning is averted. The "Shura" is indeed מקולקל—"ruined" by "love."
Here's to love eclipsing grief! Wishing you all A Shabbat Shalom, where the seventh day functions as a quasi ( only the best part!!!) "Shiva" house, radiating love as a respite from the six days of turbulence, and turmoil, and its often heady brew of darkness and light.
Much Love indeed!
Rabbi Yossi