Shiva Doesn’t Sit Well With Me

I am an adept social creature. There’s almost no social situation I feel awkward in. The one I just do not handle well is the shiva call, the visit to a Jewish house of mourning. I have given this a lot of thought. After all, people are always dying and a shiva house follows that. “Shiva” has the root word of “shev” which means “sit”. The mourners sit on low chairs for one week immediately following the funeral. The number seven in Hebrew is “sheva”. There’s ample time to pay respects, if you live locally you have a whole week. More often than not I miss the boat. I just don’t go. This is unlike me; I am clear on the right thing to do and I’m not the type to make excuses, though I find myself doing so in this case. It’s odd how I have dropped the ball on this so many times. I acknowledge that it’s wrong, and in asking myself why I suck at shiva, I’ve come up with some possible reasons.

The first reason is that I can’t stand that visiting a grieving family in our community has become just another thing to check off on a to do list. I often feel it’s an extremely disingenuous endeavor. It, like so many other supposed acts of kindness, seem to have almost nothing to do with the recipient. I hate the idea of using a death to pat oneself on the back. That being said, my opinion on the matter is irrelevant. The mourners usually do like visitors and remember who made the effort and who didn’t. Apparently shiva visits make a lasting impression and are noted and appreciated. The family isn’t concerned with the motives of the visitors. Point being, if a loss has been suffered I need to do what is right for the bereaved. Shiva houses can feel like overwhelming social scenes. Saturday nights in particular are especially raucous and out of control. It can feel like a party, and that makes me uncomfortable too. Again though, who cares what I think? I don’t want the person sitting shiva to have to make chit chat with me. They just buried a loved one, the last thing they should have to do is fill awkward silence that my presence has now caused. I have no idea how people sit shiva. Many like it since it affords them the healing opportunity to tell and hear stories, pass around old photos, and see how the person they lost was loved and valued. For the other half who loathe sitting there performing a weeklong monologue, I have to believe it’s excruciating. Being stared at and pitied like a sick tiger in a cage. I hate making chit chat on the best of days. I cannot fathom hosting hundreds of people when I’ll probably want to retreat to a dark room alone. I feel intensely uncomfortable adding to anyone’s resistance to receiving visitors. I could go and sit there quietly but then I feel like I’m not doing anything comforting. Then there’s listening to the cringeworthy comments and questions directed to the mourners. No one knows what to say, no one, and so the most asinine words come tumbling out of people’s mouths. It’s like hearing terrible stand up comedy land with a thud. You’re trapped and squirming. Then there’s the goodbyes which usually consist of the visitors wishing the mourners “may you only know health and happiness here on in”. Of course I know this is said with good intent, but I cannot stand it because it’s impossible and unrealistic. People will continue to die, get sick, and suffer tragedies. It’s the nature of life. To wish only happiness and health sounds like bullshit because it is. It’s a childish fantasy that can’t possibly be helpful to someone in the throes of misery. It’s sending the message that what they’re going through shouldn’t be happening. That’s just not supportive since the reality is that it did happen. How can they begin to accept it when they’re hearing about how to resist reality on replay? And all the poor mourners can do is say thank you. The whole thing feels out of whack to me. I need to either make peace with it or just show up anyway. I hate doing anything just because it’s the social norm, but I guess like anything else if I go with the right intent and energy then it will be ok. Just like I don’t want my presence to add to anyone’s discomfort, so too would I not want my absence to be an insult to someone suffering a major loss. It’s always a good thing to examine where our own personal discomfort lies. Sitting with our own issues and inquiries is what helps us be of service to others, whether we like it or not.