Jewish Mourning: Feeling the Pain While Continuing Life

Jewish law has a recipe for all aspects of life. For each stage of life, there are laws and customs that help us to approach, adapt to, and learn from whatever we are facing, from a Torah point of view. The same holds true for death and mourning. Judaism has a unique approach to mourning, with halacha giving space for, and even mandating actions that express grief and anger, in order to show respect for the life and soul of the person who has passed and to help us process the death in a healthy way. Alongside this, the laws of mourning also provide a framework through which we are gently encouraged to continue to move forward in our lives. 

The mourning period or ‘avelut’ is divided into two or three periods in Judaism, shiva, shloshim, and in the case of the death of a parent, a year-long period of mourning. The stages move from high intensity and a complete focus on the loss of the family member, to a gradual reintroduction of the mourner into society, and a move away from the focus on loss and grief. During the shiva period, the expressions of mourning are stark and the family is totally engrossed in their loss – sitting on low stools, wearing torn clothes, not showering, among other restrictions. For these seven days, regular life is suspended and the only reality is one of facing the loss. Afterwards, the mourners resume ‘normal’ life, however restrictions still apply- mourners desist from listening to music, buying new clothes, shaving or having haircuts for a month. In the case of a parent, these practices continue for 11 months, along with the recitation of Kaddish. 

If you have never lost a loved one, or seen these practices and laws up close, you might be wondering why they feel so familiar. The answer is that they are the same practices kept during the three weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av. Only, they are inverted. While when one experiences the loss of a loved one, the grief moves from greater to lesser intensity, when we mourn the national loss of the Beit Hamikdash and the terrible galut that befall our people, the process is reversed. 

Rav Solovetichik explains the difference between these two scenarios. The first, the mourning of a relative, is called avelut chadasha, new mourning, and the move from greater to lesser intensity is the natural experience of grief and loss. The Rav writes : “It is a primordial, instinctual, spontaneous response of man… to the traumatic confrontation with death, to the impact of catastrophe and disaster.” Judaism recognizes this normative, fierce, response. In a healthy processing of death, with time, we learn to live alongside the loss, finding space for it in our lives while still continuing to live. We adapt to our new reality. “We have during these stages an imperceptible transition from a depressed, desolate, bitter consciousness of catastrophe to a redeemed higher consciousness.”

With avelut yeshana, old mourning, the experience is different. For thousands of years, we have sadly become used to living without the Beit Hamikdash. We don’t really understand what we are missing and for this reason, Chazal instructed us to connect to this amorphic experience through the restrictions of mourning. Through these actions, we recreate the experience of the loss of the Beit Hamikdash, connecting to what the Rav terms “unitive memory: “Memory is experiential in nature; one does not simply recollect the past or just remember bygones, but reexperiences that which has been, and quickens events that are seemingly dead”. “Avelut yeshana is cultivated, gradually evolving through recollection and through the unitive time awareness”. The gradual increase in acts of mourning helps to direct our emotions and thoughts, so that when we come to mourn on Tisha B’Av, we are better able to connect to the national tragedy and understand the terrible loss, both of the Beit Hamikdash itself, and all the tragedies we have been through subsequently as a result of the galut.¹  

The Jewish approach to mourning is that it is necessary. From an individual point of view, it is a spontaneous, human response to a calamity, to an existential question. And so too from a national point of view; to not mourn at all is impossible; halacha ensures that we connect to what we are missing through the relived experience of our collective memories, and through those reminders of what we lack at our smachot, in the unpainted doorposts of our homes, in our three times daily prayers.

Undoubtedly the greatest national tragedy that we have suffered, on both the physical and spiritual levels, the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash posed a major challenge to the functioning of Jewish life. Indeed the Talmud is filled with discussions of the Rabbanim on how best to continue life post this era. One such discussion can be found in Masechet Bava Batra. Following on from a discussion on the leaving of a portion of a new home unpainted as a reminder of the churban, the Gemara relates a debate between a group of the prushim who had ceased to eat meat and drink wine permanently and Rabbi Yehosua:

He (Rabbi Yehoshua) said to them: My children, for what reason do you not eat meat and drink wine? They said to him: Shall we eat meat, which is sacrificed upon the altar, and now the altar has ceased to exist? Shall we drink wine, which is poured upon the altar, and now the altar has ceased to exist?

Rabbi Yehoshua said to them: If so, we will not eat bread either, since the meal-offerings that were offered upon the altar have ceased. They replied: You are correct. It is possible to subsist with produce. He said to them: We will not eat produce either, since the bringing of the first fruits have ceased. They replied: You are correct. We will no longer eat the produce of the seven species from which the first fruits were brought, as it is possible to subsist with other produce. He said to them: If so, we will not drink water, since the water libation has ceased. They were silent, as they realized that they could not survive without water.

Rabbi Yehoshua said to them: My children, come, and I will tell you how we should act. To not mourn at all is impossible, as the decree was already issued and the Temple has been destroyed. But to mourn excessively as you are doing is also impossible, as the Sages do not issue a decree upon the public unless a majority of the public is able to abide by it…²

The Jewish approach to mourning is that it is necessary. From an individual point of view, it is a spontaneous, human response to a calamity, to an existential question. And so too from a national point of view; to not mourn at all is impossible; halacha ensures that we connect to what we are missing through the relived experience of our collective memories, and through those reminders of what we lack at our smachot, in the unpainted doorposts of our homes, in our three times daily prayers. At the appropriate time of year we relive the terrible experience of the churban. However, for most of the year, we continue to focus on living, on living a Torah life. 

Because we are encouraged even in our mourning to still focus on life, Jewish mourning has a strong element of faith and comfort; Faith that we will indeed be able to reenter society, that we will be able to maintain and strengthen our connection to Hashem despite our personal or national calamity. Even the book of Eicha is filled with expressions of faith that we will repair our relationship with Hashem.³

Throughout our history there have been too many periods where our national mourning and individual mourning seem to coincide, and so too today. And through this mourning, we have also seen a steadfastness in our nation and inspiration in individual mourners, who, taking the lessons of Chazal to heart, showing us how we continue to learn, to live and to grow, with faith that better days are ahead of us. 

On this note, we pray that Hashem will bring comfort to all in mourning, and that this Tisha Ba’av become a day of festivity and celebration as it says in Zecharia; Thus says the Lord of Hosts: The fast of the fourth month, the fast of the fifth month, the fast of the seventh month, and the fast of the tenth month will be joy, celebration and holidays for the house of Judah, and they will love truth and peace.”⁴

1. Rav Soloveitchik, 2003, Out of the Whirlwind: Essays on Mourning, Suffering and the Human Condition, Avelut Yeshanah and Avelut Chadashah.
   Can be read online here: https://www.etzion.org.il/en/holidays/three-weeks/avelut-yeshanah-and-avelut-chadashah  ↩︎
2. Bava Batra 60b ↩︎
3. Yael Zeiglar: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/eicha-faith-in-a-whirlwind/  ↩︎
4. Zecharia 8L19 ↩︎