A very, very, very long time ago, when I was growing up, there was virtually no funny Jewish video content being produced. It’s hard to believe but there was a time before Reggie_Torahshorts and Dovi Neuburger were producing daily content. There were a few, very few, exceptions – some Jews who were a little ahead of their time – who made videos like, Stuff People say on Pesach (I still watch this video every year before Pesach, and it still cracks me up). The other prehistoric video content from that era was Shtick People say at Shiva Houses. The genius of these videos is that for the most part, they were just saying things people say on Pesach or at Shiva homes. They weren’t making jokes, they were just highlighting how insane we sound, and when it comes to shiva houses, how tactless people can be.
People ask things like, “So… how did he die?” Or “Stop crying, she’s with her husband now.” Or “I think the chair you’re sitting on might be a little too high. Should we measure it?”
Let’s be honest, shiva houses can be quite awkward. What do I say? What do I say? What do I say? “Uh, I love the wallpaper!”
And because they’re so awkward, people tend to do one of two things, they don’t show up at shiva houses, or they speak about weather, world news, pickleball, anything except the deceased.
There are two Shiva house halachos that are worth reviewing. One, we wait for the mourner to speak first. And what if they don’t speak? That’s. Okay. We just sit there.
The other rule is that we are supposed to speak about the deceased; about their accomplishments, about what they did in their lives, about their legacy.
Both these halachos are encapsulated in the term we use for visiting a mourner – Nichum Aveilim. It’s translated as comforting the mourner, but what this term Nichum really means, explains Rav Samson Raphael Hirsh, is to shift one’s attention, to turn. And that’s because what we are doing when we visit the broken and lonely mourner is we are trying to shift their attention. Not to distract them with small talk and jokes. Not to remove the pain, there is no way to do so. Rather, they are feeling utterly alone, and by being there, even if we do not say anything, we are conveying to the mourner that they are not entirely alone, that there are people in the community who are with them. We say yes, you’re in pain, you’re alone, AND we are here with you.
They feel like their loved one is gone forever, and by reflecting on the deceased’s life, we remind them that their loved one also left behind a rich legacy that can be perpetuated by all who knew them. We say yes, they are gone, AND they accomplished so much.
We don’t need to be afraid of a shiva house. It’s cliché but I know from all the many mourners here that it is true – the greatest present is your presence. And you don’t need to be a great conversationalist to make a shiva call. “Tell me about your loved one.” And then sit back and listen.
Nechama, comfort, does not take place by ignoring pain. It comes about through a shift in perspective.
The reason I bring this up is, well, it’s critical that we visit people who are visiting shiva and we ensure that the visits are meaningful. But also, because this Shabbos is known as Shabbos Nachamu. It’s that same word – comfort, but also to shift perspectives. A week ago, we sat on the floor and mourned all the losses we experienced over two thousand years; the Batei Mikdash, the terror, the inquisitions, the Holocaust. And today, a mere six days later, we are supposed to celebrate. Shabbos Nachamu is supposed to be a joyous day. In our Haftorah, Yeshaya soothingly proclaims, “Nachamu, nachamu, ami! Be comforted, my people!”
How can we be comforted? The Bais HaMikdash is still unbuilt, the Jewish People are still not unified, there are still hostages in Gaza. Comfort? Really?
And the answer is yes. The sad realities have not changed, but G-d is asking us to now shift our gaze as He tells us, “I will one day redeem you. I may seem so distant, but I have not forgotten you.” On this Shabbos, G-d is performing Nichum Aveilim to us; He’s reminding us to not despair, to choose to look at the survival of the Jewish People and not the sacrifices, to choose to see how much we’ve progressed as a people and not how far we still have to go, to choose to see the fulfillment of so many positive prophecies even though some have yet to come true.
And this is not a one-day exercise, it takes place every day. Because there are two types of Jews in the world; Tisha B’av Jews and there are Nachamu Jews.
Tisha B’av Jews are always focused on what’s broken, on what’s missing, on all the things that have not gone their way.
Nachamu Jews are not those slightly-annoying-everything-is-awesome-let’s put-on-a-fake-smile-type of person. No. Nachamu Jews do not pretend that every story has a happy ending, or that the Jewish People are perfect, or that their spouse or children have no flaws. No.
Nachamu Jews say, yes, there are issues AND I chose to focus on what is good, on what is beautiful, on what I have. I could complain, it’s easy to complain, criticism is far more clickable than compliments, but I chose to focus on the good.
In our kitchen, we have a magnet on our fridge. Literally, one magnet. Some people deck their fridge in tens of magnets and pictures and notes, but we are minimalists (some may call it a neurosis) and the front of our fridge has nothing except one magnet. On the magnet it says, “Liftoach mikarer, zeh olam um’lo’o, to open a refrigerator, it’s the whole world.”
These words were uttered by Eli Sharabi, a husband and father of two daughters, who was kidnapped from Be’eri on October 7th. He spent almost 500 days in captivity. When he returned, he looked like he had just been liberated from Auschwitz. He spent most of his time in captivity chained by his leg. He ate almost nothing and lost 66 pounds, or 40% of his body weight while in captivity.
As bad as that was, nothing prepared him for the devastating news that he learned when he was released. Shortly after exiting Gaza, he was informed that his wife and two daughters were murdered by Hamas on October 7th.
This man lived through a modern-day Tisha B’av and yet, he was and is a Nachamu Jew.
When asked about learning the horrific news about his family, he said he was grateful for the 18 years that he had with his beloved wife, Lianne. When asked about the starvation, he said, yes, it was horrific, and now I open my fridge ad it’s filled with food, “Liftoach mikarer, zeh olam um’lo’o, to open a refrigerator, it’s the whole world.”
The Bais Hamikdash is still destroyed, our family members get on our nerves or worse, our friends don’t always support like us they should, and G-d feels like He is ignoring us.
Those are all 100% true.
And yet, we can decide to be a Nachamu Jew, not only this Shabbos, but every day.
To choose to look at the positive trends in Jewish history and say I am so proud to be a Jew.
To choose to see the incredible qualities that our family members possess and embrace them.
To choose to see G-d in our every waking breath.
To be a Tisha B’av Jew or a Nachamu Jew, the choice is ours.