Axar.az presents an article, "Two Catholics Sit Shiva” by John Samuel Tieman.

Our friend's mother died. We went to their home to sit shiva. My wife and I are Roman Catholic. Our friend is an Orthodox Jew.

Shiva is beautiful in its simplicity. In essence, the mourner remembers the deceased. Everyone else sits and listens. It's pretty much that simple.

There are a few customs. Shiva is often done in the home of the next-of-kin. The mourner sits on a low stool and often on a crate. Frequently, that person mourning doesn't greet folks in the usual manner. The mourner doesn't shave during the seven days. Mirrors are covered. Don't bring flowers. Don't stay terribly long, less than an hour being customary. There are other rules. But mostly, folks just show up for the person in pain. And you listen. The visitor doesn't initiate conversation. The visitor listens. That and the practice is to bring a casserole rather than flowers.

My wife and I were raised in University City, Missouri. We're Catholic. When we were young, University City was the Jewish neighborhood of St. Louis. It was 85% Jewish. I can go to my old block and still point out the five homes where Christians lived. The Christians were all Catholic except for the Browns, who were Lutheran (I understood that as Catholic Light) and the Johnsons, who were Presbyterians (no explanation for that.) Everyone else was Jewish.

It never occurred to me, until decades later, that there's something exotic about the notion that there's the language in which you converse, and the language in which you pray. My Jewish buddies prayed in Hebrew, and I prayed in Latin. It also never occurred to me that there's also something odd about a little Catholic kid kvetching the whole time he schleps a ton of books to school. The Yiddish influence still lingers when my wife and I speak. We've always loved Judaism.

Judaism does not shy away from close encounters with death. Traditionally, upon hearing of the death of a loved one, the mourner says, “baruch dayan ha-emet” or “blessed is the judge of Truth”. With great ritual, the loved one is buried. The burial is quick, almost immediately after death. Then the seven days of mourning begin. (“Shiva” means “seven”.) For those who have lost a parent, the Kaddish is recited every day for the next 11 months. The seven days of Shiva show respect for the dead and provide a framework for those grieving.

There are things shiva doesn't do, and things it does. In Judaism, the deceased is buried almost immediately. There's no dressing up the corpse and pretending he or she looks just fine. Uncle Manny is gone, and that's what there is to that. What Shiva does is allow the mourner a space and a time to grieve. The English word “grief” derives from the Old French meaning “hardship” and a Latin word that means “burdensome”. Grieving is hard, it's burdensome, but shiva says you don't have to bear this burden alone. It does it simply. It says, in effect, take comfort in these traditions, for these traditions have comforted folks for thousands of years.

But mostly, simply, friends and family gather. They surround the mourner with love and affection. They listen as the mourner laughs, cries, gets angry, gets nostalgic, has doubts, has faith, and they listen. They just listen.

Shiva is about relationship. As is death. Death ends the life. But death doesn't end the relationship, which goes on in the survivor searching for an interpretation, an interpretation that will be followed by a reinterpretation, and another reinterpretation, and another – and all that will go on in search of a resolution that the mourner may or may never find. It is a burden. It is a hardship. Shiva says that this search for meaning, this journey into darkness, no one needs to do this alone.