My First Shiva Experience
Followed by an Ashkian (that's a term I just made up) wedding.
I just attended my first shiva. Up until now, my only experience with the Jewish seven-day mourning period was from movies like “This Is Where I Leave You” and “Shiva Baby.” Sadly, there were no fist fights or sugar daddies at this shiva. Maybe at my next one.
I did my research beforehand of what to do and what NOT to do. I Googled the rules of Shiva and talked to religious friends. I already knew the essentials, like don’t greet the mourner first - let them approach you - and expect them to have a tear in their clothing to represent the pain they feel.
What I did learn in my preparation was that unlike the movies, food is only for the mourners, so make sure to eat first. And when you leave, be sure to say the following to the mourner: “May you be comforted among the mourners of Zion.”
But as life often teaches you, preparation doesn’t fully ready you for reality, and often leaves you with more questions than answers.
Upon entering the mourner’s living room, I wasn’t sure where to sit. Do I make my way to the inner semi-circle surrounding the mourner, or do I start in the back and work my way toward them? If I did the former, would I be cutting people waiting to get closer? Wait, this isn’t divided by men and women, is it? There’s only men surrounding the mourner! They’re not praying, are they? Should I find some women to sit with in the back, just in case? (This is how my brain works in religious settings - fun, I know. And no, they were not praying.)
Thankfully, I found some friends in the back who called me over. I sat with them and was proud of myself for not saying, “It’s good to see you!” given the circumstance.
I quickly caught on to the flow of people moving closer to the mourner whenever a chair before us became empty. Taking my chance, I plopped down in an available one, and listened as he regaled the sizable crowd with stories of his loved one, often looking down with a forlorn smile. I felt claustrophobic among so many people in such a crowded space, though I realized the beauty of this problem, having a room full of people who have come to comfort the mourner.
Eventually, the person sitting shiva greeted me and thanked me for coming. By this point, my friends had joined the inner circle and we all heard stories, some I’ve heard before but didn’t mind because I could see how healing it was for the mourner to tell them.
That’s shiva in a nutshell - surrounding the mourner and showering them with love and lending an ear. When I lost my grandma years ago, there was no such ritual in my family, and all I wanted to do was tell people about how amazing her potato leek soup was, and of the summers I spent in her swimming pool. But I had no such outlet, so I wrote sad poetry about her instead.
The whole time, though, I couldn’t help but think how invasive the moment was. What if the bereaved family didn’t want to face people that day? What if they wanted to be left alone? But that’s the essence of Judaism - community, and knowing that you’re not alone, even when it feels like it.
I also thought it odd that he was sitting in a chair much lower than everyone else’s. I now understand this tradition comes from the Book of Job 2:13 (“They sat to the ground.”), but you’d think the mourner would want to be as comfortable as possible during this time. However, like the tearing of clothing to express pain, this practice reflects the same sorrow. #education
When it was time to say goodbye, I said a different version of my rehearsed line to the mourner, “May G-d comfort you among the mourners of Zion,” because that’s what it said on a sign behind him. I didn’t say it in Hebrew because it didn’t feel natural to me. I don’t think that diminishes the comfort I was trying to give him. I think he just appreciated me being there.
🥂Mood Change… Time for a Wedding!
Ahh, the circle of life. That evening, just a few hours after the shiva, I attended my first Persian wedding. Well, it was half Ashkenazi, half Persian, the blending of two cultures making it even more special.
It was traditional (chuppah, sheva brachot, all the works), but was also very bohemian, complete with a 30-minute meditation, a cacao ceremony, and a jam session. I danced the night away, celebrating love, tradition, and life. Because at the end of the day, that’s all you can do. Do it as much as you can. L’chaim! And thanks, Zachary, for the invite!
✍️Shabbat Prompt
Describe a Jewish tradition you experienced for the first time. How did you feel? What you learn? Did it change the way you thought about Judaism? Comment below!
Shabbat Shalom,
When Dad’s cousin died and we were at the grave site, everyone present took turns with a shovel to scoop the dirt and throw it on the casket resting six feet below, essentially filling her grave and burying her (while the workers at the cemetery who dug the hole watched on restful). We each filed through in our cemetery appropriate mournful attire taking the shovel, some scooping and tossing 20 - 40 times, others a bit less depending on their strength or frailty, but everyone participated. We were told this was the greatest gift we could give to honor her and show her our love because it is a gift she could never repay. That was so incredibly moving and profound for me. And the fact that we, a community of close relatives and friends, buried her, together, was a beautiful experience. That you for asking this question.
I'm so glad you came with! It was a very fun and unique wedding. Shabbat Shalom :)