San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)

A SHIVA VISIT OVER ZOOM IS NOT THE SAME

- BY RON SHULMAN

After the recitation of psalms and eulogies, mourners seek solace in a variety of Jewish graveside customs.

They tear a garment or ribbon for cathartic release. Heartbroke­n, they approach their loved one’s grave. Death has torn them apart. Their love unending, time helps memory mend their bond.

Grasping a shovel, and gasping for breath, reluctantl­y and gently, they place dirt over the casket just lowered down into the ground. They wipe away their tears and replace the shovel into the mound of dirt. The next mourner must choose to pick it up. A voluntary act of kindness toward the deceased.

Over the past year, few others have been there to pick up the shovel. Instead, a new ritual. After a mourner does hold the shovel, the funeral director squirts sanitizer into that mourner’s hands.

For those who are present, 6 feet of distance replace the consoling embrace of family and friends. Mourners grieve their personal loss in the absence of their community. A face mask covers their forlorn expression­s, visible in their eyes alone.

Their loved one’s body returned to the earth, mourners recite their prayer, the Mourner’s Kaddish. After the last “amen,” the consoling community forms two lines. The mourners walk through, away from death and back to life. While walking, they receive the prayerful words and consolatio­n of family and friends.

Often, these pandemic days, hardly any others are able to be there to form the lines of comfort. They’re on Zoom instead. Watching silently and typing their condolence­s into the chat.

Among those who grieve, some are more COVID-19 careful than others. Even so, most Jewish families confrontin­g loss this past year have ex

perienced, ritually and emotionall­y, less than complete Jewish funeral observance­s.

Mourners feel this most of all during shiva, the mourning week during which a bereaved family sits quietly at home. Into their home relatives, friends, and community members bring a caring presence to fill, albeit partially, the absence death has left.

Shiva visits over Zoom cannot fill this void the same way. They are much less spirituall­y and physically nourishing. No one embraces while offering consoling words and thoughts. No one helps around the house. No one brings food.

There is one positive element to a Zoom shiva prayer service and virtual gathering. Folks from all over, people who might not travel to be together, reminisce and share stories of a cherished life.

This matters most. Each and every grieving family sitting shiva in person or online needs to know. How we live is more important than how we die.

Each life is precious. Every death is significan­t. Tragically, it’s been hard to remember this truth during this pandemic year of grief and devastatio­n.

More than 2.5 million human beings have died. Horrific as that number is, more upsetting is the loss of each and every one of them as a loving partner, a beloved parent, child, sibling, grandparen­t, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, cousin, colleague or dear friend.

Each of their families deserve our compassion­ate response and support. As much while we’re apart as when we’re together. Adapting the various customs of Jewish mourning rites this past year may have made them ritually and emotionall­y incomplete, but certainly no less significan­t.

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