“Grief is a teacher – something that reveals to us our deepest values and attachments,” notes psychologist Jeannie Blaustein. We centralize mourning and memory in the Jewish tradition not only for those no longer living, but for ourselves, to affirm the lives we want to be living in their honor.
Parasha Chukat offers us a cautionary tale of bypassed grief: Immediately after the death of Miriam, Moses’ beloved sister, the Israelites quarrel with her brothers Moses and Aaron for lack of water, rather than grieve for her. Some commentators make meaning of the phrase “Miriam died there . . .” (Numbers 20:1) followed directly with “The community was without water . . .” (Numbers 20:2), tying grief with thirst, and lack of comfort with lack of water.
After the water dries up, anger and urgency ensue. Moses and Aaron act impulsively, striking a rock twice and declaring, “Listen, you rebels, shall we get water for you out of this rock?” (Numbers 20:10). God in turn admonishes Moses, “Because you did not trust Me enough to affirm My sanctity in the sight of the Israelite people, therefore you shall not lead this congregation into the land . . .” (Numbers 20:12). One might conclude that the collective failure to mourn led directly to this dramatic disappointment that will haunt Moses the rest of his life. He did not pause, he did not mourn, and instead, let his anger flash in a way that impacted others.
Yet our parasha is not without growth and learning. When Aaron dies at the end of the chapter, the community “bewails him thirty days,” the first recording of formal community mourning in Torah. Perhaps by then, Moses and the Israelites have learned something. They’ve sensed that what really matters, at the end of the day, is honoring, and pausing to grieve for those we love and lose.
I know I am not alone in feeling that the last few years compromised my ability to fully grieve certain losses that were compounded by isolation and quarantine. I take heart in a tradition that reminds us it is never too late to pause in the midst of our busy lives for prayer, ritual, story-telling and other ways of honoring grief that allow us to emerge more whole.