“There is no revenge for the
blood of a little child – such a revenge has yet to be devised by Satan,” wrote
Hayyim Nahman Bialik about a very different massacre over a century ago. In
lieu of vengeance, Bialik calls for a cosmic response: “Let the blood pierce
through the abyss!”
As the
children and teachers of Newtown are being taken to their final rest this week,
one can feel the blood piercing through that abyss – the abyss of human
cruelty, the abyss of our inability to fully protect our children, the abyss of
society’s obligation to its weakest links.
Many of the
darkest challenges of American society have been exposed through this massacre,
but one often overlooked challenge is American culture’s relationship with
death and offering comfort. Newtown might present a moment of change for this
culture.
You are not alone in your grief
Newtown. Our world, too, has been torn apart. All across this land of ours, we
have wept with you. We’ve pulled our children tight. And you must know that
whatever measure of comfort we can provide, we will provide. Whatever portion
of sadness that we can share with you to ease this heavy load, we will gladly
bear it. (full text
here)
The “Comforter in Chief” has enlisted us in the work of
consolation. As we as a nation struggle to answer this call, we would be wise
to take some cures from Jewish sources, renowned for their unique approach to
mourning and loss, and the emphasis given to its importance. Indeed the Talmud describes
the work of comforting as the most sacred of acts:
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Rabbi Hama son of Rabbi Hanina taught:
What is meant by the passage, "You
shall walk after the Lord, your God" (Deut. 13:5)?
Is it possible for a human being to 'walk
after' the Divine Presence, about which it is written: "The Lord,
your God, is a consuming fire" (Deut.4:24)?
Rather what it means is: Follow the actions of the
Holy Blessed One. Just as God comforted the grieving…
so you too – comfort the grieving.
Talmud
Bavli Sotah 14b
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ואמר רבי חמא ברבי חנינא: מאי
דכתיב "אחרי ה' אלהיכם תלכו"? וכי אפשר לו לאדם להלך אחר שכינה? והלא
כבר נאמר "כי ה' אלהיך אש אוכלה הוא ?! אלא הלך אחר מדותיו של הקב"ה -
מה הוא מלביש ערומים... אף אתה
הלבש ערומים.
הקב"ה ביקר חולים... אף
אתה בקר חולים
הקב"ה ניחם אבלים, דכתיב "ויהי אחרי מות אברהם ויברך אלהים את
יצחק בנו [וישב יצחק עם באר לחי ראי] - אף אתה נחם אבלים.
בבלי סוטה יד:
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If there is an action that feels like walking after consuming
fire, it is the act of entering the home of a bereaved family with the charge
of offering consolation. Indeed, the art of comforting has become a lost art:
many refrain from other people’s suffering, as if their loss is contagious.
Perhaps standing by their abyss threatens to rip open an abyss of our own. I’d
suggest this hesitancy stems in an expectation of ourselves to “fix their problem” or “heal
their wounds” – an impossibly high bar. America’s culture of the “denial of
death” and addiction to heroism (as Ernest Becker described it) makes us want
to “solve” their crisis, instead of simply help them soak up the pain. True
comforting, on the other hand, is a much more modest act, eminently human and
yet touching upon the divine.
Psychologists Haim Omer and Nahi Alon suggest
that the very framework of comforting is to be distinguished from a framework
of “control” and “healing”. Healing assumes the ability to become whole again, to
regain control. Comfort, on the other hand, is not found in regaining
wholeness, but in accepting a “tragic reframe” – that the world is not perfect
and wholeness is not achievable. Where there is life, there is distress and lack
of full control. In lieu of complete healing, comforting works towards
acceptance and the creation of communities of compassion and relief.
This reframe, which might sound “un-American” in its anti-heroism,
is fitting for our times and specifically to the tenure of President Obama. In
the recent campaign, Obama positioned himself as the “imperfect President”,
promising to “push forward in a tough world” rather than offering a vision of
victory and control. This might seem too dark for some. I personally find it to
be courageously modest, humanely optimistic, and a useful frame for working in
a complex world.
The “tragic reframe” of comforting comes to the fore in a Talmudic
story about Resh Lakish and his assistant, who seek to console a friend who
lost an infant son. As the assistant fumbles for words, Resh Lakish instructs
him to say five blessings: start with the deceased, continue with the God who
revives all life and add a blessing for the mourners. It doesn’t stop there:
Resh Lakish continues with a blessing for those who have come to comfort the
mourners - highlighting the importance
of this role. Finally he offers a blessing for the entire community. This week
these ancient words feel eerily appropriate:
Concerning
the mourners, he said: Our brethren, who are worn out, who are crushed by this
bereavement, set your heart to consider this: This it is that stands for ever,
it is a path from the six days of creation. Many have drunk, many will drink. As
the first ones have drunk, so will the last ones drink. Our brothers, may the
Lord of consolation comfort you.
Blessed be He who comforts the
mourners. ברוך אתה מנחם אבלים.
Concerning those who comfort the
mourners he said: Our brethren, bestowers of lovingkindnesses, children of
bestowers of lovingkindnesses, who hold fast to the covenant of Abraham our
father. Our brothers, may the Lord of recompense pay you your reward. Blessed
are You who pays recompense. ברוך אתה משלם הגמול
Concerning
the entire community he said: Master of the worlds! Redeem, save, deliver and help
Your people Israel – from illness and from the sword, from preying and from drought,
and from the mildew, and from all kinds of calamities that break forth and come into the world. Before
we call, You answer us.
Blessed are You who stops the
plague. ברוך אתה עוצר המגפה
The order of these blessings suggest the concentric circles
of mourning. To the mourners, crushed by their bereavement, comfort is offered
through presence, shouldering their burden, and reminding of the “tragic
reframe” of mortality that faces us all (“many have drunk, many will drink”). Around
those mourners we create a community of comforters, a community of
lovingkindedness.
 |
| Connecticut Chief Medical Examiner H. Wayne Carver II |
Having said something about our responsibility to comfort
the mourners, we must expand our view to the entire community, and to the
plague of violence which haunts our society. The tragic reframe does not imply
passivity, the opposite is true: we must fight the plague with all the powers at
our disposal. Whether the solution is more “sword” control, or better services
for the ill, we must do everything we can to stop this plague, and we cannot
quit until we create a community where lovingkindedness, and not violence, are
the rule of the land.
Alongside this subdued comfort, we still hold on to our
messianic dreams. When raising a mourner from Shiva, the following verse is
said. Messianic in its focus, this verse speaks to the day when the “tragic
reframe” can be relinquished, and all plagues will be brought to an end. The time
is not nigh, but we continue to work towards it nonetheless, every day:
בִּלַּע הַמָּוֶת לָנֶצַח
וּמָחָה אֲדֹנָי ה' דִּמְעָה מֵעַל כָּל פָּנִים
“Death
will be vanquished forever, and the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all
faces”
(Isaiah 25:8)
May God wipe away tears from all faces, soon. In the
meantime, it is up to us.
In memory of Charlotte,
Daniel, Olivia, Josephine, Ana, Dylan, Madeline, Catherine, Chase, Jesse,
James, Grace, Emilie, Jack, Noah, Caroline, Jessica, Benjamin, Avielle, Allison.
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