In fact, an entire book of the Bible is devoted to the subject of bereavement: the book of Job. Here the Bible describes the unbridgeable abyss that separates the grieving from those who would attempt to comfort them. As the Hebrew poet Zelda wrote,

Although Job rejects the comfort offered him by his friends, experience shows that this kind of supportive circle is vital. It not only provides the mourner with much needed solace, but also grants him the strength to carry on with life. Moreover, this circle can provide the external assistance necessary to help expel the explosive emotional tension that may build up in a bereaved family. Christians customarily compare Job to Jesus, but according to a Jewish reading of the book, Job’s virtue is found not in his suffering, but rather in his ability to move past his own grief and thus hear God’s words out of the whirlwind. Upon receiving revelation, Job comes to realize that his early, anguished protests were the indignant cries of a child. They are the sounds man makes immediately following a trauma, when all is anger and woe. Though the Bible does not deny this response—on the contrary, it grants it a powerful literary stylization—it also makes clear that man is meant to transcend this stage of mourning. Suffering is not essential to the realization of God’s image in man.

In its concern for alleviating the suffering of the bereaved, Judaism reveals its profound sensitivity to the emotional catastrophe that is the death of a loved one. Notwithstanding this concern, however, Jewish mourning customs require that the mourner’s public bereavement follow a predetermined path. For example, during the first seven days of mourning, called the shiva, the bereaved is exempt from those commandments that fall within the category of bein adam l’havero, or those which involve interaction with other people. Such an exemption is also given to a groom on his wedding day and a leper throughout his illness. In effect, this exemption constitutes a temporary removal from life itself. For like the bridegroom and the leper, the bereaved—particularly in the initial stage of mourning—is in a state of emotional upheaval. He may suffer a spiritual collapse and take leave of his senses. Therefore, he is rendered temporarily unaccountable for his actions. As such, while the community is obligated to visit the mourner, there is much wisdom behind the custom of not visiting during the first three days of his bereavement: Not only may the comforter be confronted with an overpowering and devastating display of emotion, but the bereaved himself may not yet be able to communicate and might inadvertently offend his well-meaning visitors.

The ancient Jewish period of mourning is meant to conclude one year after death, when the bones of the deceased were collected. During the time of the Mishna, it was customary to rebury these bones in sarcophagi at a permanent gravesite: “R. Meir said: One may gather the bones of his father or mother because it is a joy to him. But R. Jose said: It grieves him.”7 What is the purpose of this custom, shocking as it may appear today? I would suggest that it represents yet more proof of Judaism’s profound insight into the human mind. The mourner’s physical contact with the bodily remains of the deceased surely extinguished any illusions that the dead were still, in some sense, among the living. It is also possible that the custom sought to counter the tendency to idealize the memory of the deceased and to pine for him at the expense of the living. Jewish mourning customs therefore demonstrate a consistent attempt to prevent the mourner from severing his ties to life as well as from rendering himself morally unaccountable for his actions as a result of his grief. They are redefined after a week, a month, and a year, expressing a perception of bereavement as a healing process, one which has its own internal logic but also requires external therapeutic intervention. Both the individual’s ritual framework for mourning and the assistance provided by his society combine to instigate recovery and thus restore the grieving to life.

The dynamic of a healing process applies to the mourner’s community as well. “[One who meets a mourner] after twelve months... does not tender him [words of] consolation.”⁸ In addition, unlike in Christianity, a Jewish cemetery must not be a place of pilgrimage, nor is it customary to adorn graves with flowers.⁹ On the contrary, Judaism considers the burial site a place of impurity, and visits to it should be limited. Jewish mourning customs also firmly oppose any displays of ostentation, lest the poor be embarrassed by their inability to honor the dead in lavish fashion. The Talmud states: “Provisions should not be conveyed to the house of the mourning on an [ornamental] tray, salver, or fruit basket, but in a [plain] basket.”¹⁰ Finally, the mandated recitation of the mourner’s kaddish and “El Malei Rahamim” (“God, Full of Compassion”), the prayer for the repose of dead souls, are meant to calm the mourner, to curb his anger or feelings of guilt, and to remind him—by virtue of the prayers’ communal response—that he is part of a larger society, one that is prepared to provide him with comfort and support. In Judaism, not only is the individual prohibited from relinquishing himself to his own, private grief, but his community is forbidden to allow this to happen.

Modern psychology may critique religious laws that expect such intense emotions to conform to a homogeneous method of mourning. It may also question whether this method of mourning indeed facilitates complete emotional release. Could it not, after all, inadvertently lead to harmful repression of the mourner’s negative emotions? The answer appears to be no. Most psychologists today agree that externalizing negative emotions is not in itself conducive to their alleviation. Moreover, they concur that cultural mechanisms, if properly utilized, are effective aids for coping with such emotions. By providing a legitimate outlet through which to express grief’s diminishing intensity, Jewish mourning customs help to regulate and calm the mourner’s pain, prevent mourning from becoming a permanent condition, and assist a person’s natural inclination to resume his everyday life.¹¹

And yet, in contrast to biblical Judaism’s aversion to granting private mourning a state of permanence, rabbinic Judaism throughout the ages has displayed a decisive commitment to the notion of an ongoing collective bereavement. We see this in the language of Jewish prayers, in specific religious rituals, and in days of national mourning and public fasts. This type of communal mourning, the rabbis acknowledged, can play a positive role, as it reinforces national solidarity and reminds us that “we have been there before.” Such mourning contributes to our confidence in a continued national existence as well as our willingness to fight for it.

When these are indeed the outcomes, such collective rituals are not only justified, but also a necessary and important part of shaping and sustaining a national identity. If, however, the emotional outcome is not optimism about the future, but bitterness over the past, these acts may become pathological and serve a negative purpose. For can these national memorial days not also nurture a sense of distrust, hostility, and vindictiveness toward other nations? Indeed, Jewish sources recognize the latter emotions as a natural, albeit extremely dangerous, result of acts of communal mourning, as exemplified by the book of Psalms: “O daughter of Babel, marked for devastation; happy is he who shall repay thee thy recompense for what thou hast done to us. Happy is he who shall seize and dash thy little ones against the rock.”¹² Likewise, on Purim we are commanded to “remember what Amalek did unto thee” and on Passover we pour wine out of our cups to signify our delight in the plagues brought upon Egypt. Yet the book of Proverbs also warns us, “Do not rejoice when thy enemy falls.”¹³ Thus Judaism gives expression to both extremes in the process of bereavement: The psalm quoted above and the Passover ritual re-create the emotional intensity of the immediate experience of loss, while the verse in Proverbs represents the prudence of one who has been comforted and has consequently moved beyond his grief.