Opening the Barriers to Wisdom
Eyzehu chacham? Halomed mikal adam. / Who is wise? One who can learn something from everyone.
Pirkay Avot 4:1
Mitoch atah m’lamed atah lamed. As you teach you (also) learn.
Medrash Tehilim 11
Chevra,
I would first like to thank everyone for the kindness shown to me following the recent death of my mother. Your heartfelt words of condolence whether verbal or written are precious and the caring gesture of arranging to send shiva food to the family home in Northbrook, Illinois, was very considerate. I appreciate the charitable contributions made in my mother’s memory. If you are still considering making such a donation please make your donation to Bellerose Jewish Center earmarked for the Religious School. As the old adage goes “charity begins at home.”
Before Pesach and during the Sedarim I spoke extensively about the concept of freeing oneself from the restrictions of mochin d’katnut or repressed consciousness in order to move toward the benefits of mochim d’gadlut or expanded consciousness. The name for Egypt in Hebrew is Mitzryim. Chazal, our ancient rabbi/sages of blessed memory, teach us that this name corresponds to the word maytzarim, the Hebrew word for boundaries, barriers, or restrictions. Therefore our experience of joyous participation in the Seder can symbolically and perhaps metaphysically become a psychological, emotional, and spiritual breakout and exodus from erroneous beliefs, self-defeating thoughts, negative feelings, close-mindedness, and a general lack of understanding that can hold a person back in every avenue of life.
In the events leading up to and following my mother’s death including the burial and abbreviated shiva I was able to actualize this concept and also put into effect the Talmudic wisdom quoted above.
Over the years I have been honored to officiate at what seems to be countless funerals. What I observed from the start was that the collection of mostly medieval mourning customs that have been ossified by closed minds into a strict system of “laws” appeared to at times help and comfort and at other times create a greater degree of stress and suffering for the mourner. Some of these practices are quite beautiful and wise and provided comforting structure and a sound psychological /emotional basis for transition. However, others were perceived by some mourners as being awkward, uncomfortable, oppressive, or steeped in superstition or seemed to be out of context relics of another era when people lived radically different lifestyles and had no relevance to life today. After much research on the historical development of Jewish mourning practices I found many of these perceptions to have been most accurate.
I learned to portray these mourning practices as a collection of “tools” that one could access to assist them in getting through a difficult time. I counsel the mourner to observe the customs that are comforting and ignore the ones that aren’t. I also advise them to be creative in finding new ways to honor the memory of their loved one and to find comfort for themselves. I did this by opening my mind and abandoning the authoritarian “stereotypical rabbi” role of portraying these practices as being “law” that must be obeyed and instead let the reaction to these practices that people shared with me become my guide and teacher. I found over the years that this personalized and compassionate approach has provided much comfort and assistance to mourners and helped them to find personal meaning while alleviating their suffering.
One must of course thank their parents for giving them life. Parents can be thanked for this while they are living. At my mother’s funeral I was both officiating rabbi and grieving mourner. I had the opportunity to “practice what I preach.” After her death I can thank her for this too. And you should know that I was comforted.
B’shalom,
Menashe
Column originally appeared in the May 1, 2011, issue of the Bellerose Jewish Center newsletter, The Messenger.
