This is going to be my second and last blog in memory of my son, NADAV AVRAHAM YOUNG, (3 July 1978 - 19 May 2016) who died in a domestic accident last week.
My favourite picture of Nadav
This blog will also serve as a genuine heartfelt 'thank you' to all the people who took the time and trouble to personally console me and my family during this terrible period. That means it is addressed to the tens of people who came to our house and also to all of the others who sent us email messages of condolence. Please regard this blog as a personal and individual way of saying 'thank you' for your support.
These past few days when we have been sitting shiva - the traditional seven days of mourning in the Jewish religion - have given me time to think about two important aspects of mourning. The first one of course was the mourning for my son, Nadav, and the second one was to think about the nature of mourning and how we cope with death.
Apart from sitting shiva for my parents and my older sister, Frances, I have not had much experience of sitting shiva.
However, it was THIS shiva which made me think about the essence of this tradition i.e. how we Jews mourn and how other religions cope with this situation. Buddhists and Hindus believe in different variations of embalming and cremating while Quakers have very few strict rules about memorial rites. They believe that the dear departed should be the subject of a thoughtful "meeting for worship" as opposed to the Irish wake style of memorial. Moslems, like Jews, believe that apart from the saying of specific prayers and the carrying out of certain rituals, the deceased should be buried as quickly as possible after they have died if the circumstances allow.
This Jewish tradition of the shiva is based on the Old Testament, (Genesis 50: 1-14) when Joseph buried his father, Jacob, before sitting for seven days in mourning. As a continuation of this ancient tradition, during the shiva today the bereaved family sit on low chairs, do not go to work and the men refrain from shaving.
All of this was new to me when I attended my first shiva. This was in honour of a schoolfriend's father who had died when we were both thirteen years old. I was very loath to attend. I expected to be drawn into a very sad household where everyone would be crying and the atmosphere would be unbearably heavy. Instead, I saw that everyone was sitting around normally and talking about all sorts of things while mentioning what my friend's father had done during his life at the same time. "Why isn't everyone sad and crying?" I asked myself, but then didn't give the shiva too much thought afterwards as I was busy growing up.
Today I understand the importance of this tradition. By not going to work during this seven-day period and by abandoning the normal routine of life, you are able to think more about the deceased (in my case, Nadav) while at the same time it also allows your friends and family to visit you and pay their respects. I have found that this act of 'visiting' and 'hosting' to be mutually therapeutic and supportive. It enables all of those who come to commiserate with you on your loss to do so in a quiet and calm atmosphere - an atmosphere which helps to give strength and support to everyone involved. To quote from Macbeth when Malcolm is consoling Macduff over the murder of his family "give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart." This Shakespearean quote reflects much of the essence of the shiva.
And so I am taking this opportunity to thank all of those who contacted me, both personally or electronically, during this past week, and helped me "praise what is lost" and make "the remembrance dear."
יחי זכרו ברוך
David
dly-books.weebly.com
This blog will also serve as a genuine heartfelt 'thank you' to all the people who took the time and trouble to personally console me and my family during this terrible period. That means it is addressed to the tens of people who came to our house and also to all of the others who sent us email messages of condolence. Please regard this blog as a personal and individual way of saying 'thank you' for your support.
These past few days when we have been sitting shiva - the traditional seven days of mourning in the Jewish religion - have given me time to think about two important aspects of mourning. The first one of course was the mourning for my son, Nadav, and the second one was to think about the nature of mourning and how we cope with death.
Apart from sitting shiva for my parents and my older sister, Frances, I have not had much experience of sitting shiva.
However, it was THIS shiva which made me think about the essence of this tradition i.e. how we Jews mourn and how other religions cope with this situation. Buddhists and Hindus believe in different variations of embalming and cremating while Quakers have very few strict rules about memorial rites. They believe that the dear departed should be the subject of a thoughtful "meeting for worship" as opposed to the Irish wake style of memorial. Moslems, like Jews, believe that apart from the saying of specific prayers and the carrying out of certain rituals, the deceased should be buried as quickly as possible after they have died if the circumstances allow.
This Jewish tradition of the shiva is based on the Old Testament, (Genesis 50: 1-14) when Joseph buried his father, Jacob, before sitting for seven days in mourning. As a continuation of this ancient tradition, during the shiva today the bereaved family sit on low chairs, do not go to work and the men refrain from shaving.
All of this was new to me when I attended my first shiva. This was in honour of a schoolfriend's father who had died when we were both thirteen years old. I was very loath to attend. I expected to be drawn into a very sad household where everyone would be crying and the atmosphere would be unbearably heavy. Instead, I saw that everyone was sitting around normally and talking about all sorts of things while mentioning what my friend's father had done during his life at the same time. "Why isn't everyone sad and crying?" I asked myself, but then didn't give the shiva too much thought afterwards as I was busy growing up.
Today I understand the importance of this tradition. By not going to work during this seven-day period and by abandoning the normal routine of life, you are able to think more about the deceased (in my case, Nadav) while at the same time it also allows your friends and family to visit you and pay their respects. I have found that this act of 'visiting' and 'hosting' to be mutually therapeutic and supportive. It enables all of those who come to commiserate with you on your loss to do so in a quiet and calm atmosphere - an atmosphere which helps to give strength and support to everyone involved. To quote from Macbeth when Malcolm is consoling Macduff over the murder of his family "give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart." This Shakespearean quote reflects much of the essence of the shiva.
And so I am taking this opportunity to thank all of those who contacted me, both personally or electronically, during this past week, and helped me "praise what is lost" and make "the remembrance dear."
יחי זכרו ברוך
David
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