This week our house needs to observe Shiva, that Jewish mourning rite where the immediate family of the deceased stay mostly at home for the seven days following burial while people come to console them. Customs have evolved over time. In the 1960-70s era of the passing of my mother and my grandparents, it functioned as something of an open house. Neighbors would drop by randomly, share memories. On Sundays, aunts, uncles, and cousins living in different parts of metro NYC would drive over. There was always food, often brought by neighbors who shared our Kosher guidelines. Appetizing stores or sections of supermarkets could prepare trays of deli, dairy, or pastries for visitors to munch on. A minyan assembled each evening for afternoon or nighttime prayers.
Over time, or perhaps over geography, customs shifted. Corporate bereavement policies allowed only two or perhaps three days, which included round trip travel when needed. Few people tapped into their vacation time for the full seven days, so a three day official home mourning became more common, though my wife and I observed the traditional seven days, the literal translation of shiva, for each of our parents. The open house format waned in favor of formal visiting hours to coincide with evening services, conducted by a clergyman or congregant experienced at leading this. Living room and dining room seating was often inadequate, particularly for prominent families that attracted dozens of visitors at the limited times. Chair rental became a necessity. There was still food, though fewer caterers, and outside Jewish enclaves, virtually no appetizing stores. Still, supermarkets had a familiarity with this and provided mostly dairy options and baked goods.
It's been a challenging year for my household. My wife lost her older brother, with the funeral on erev Yom Kippur, so there was only a Meal of Condolence, which traditionally follows burial, without shiva. Her sister passed away shortly after Pesach with shiva at our house. And we have attended a few other homes as visitors to the mourners, people who create the required ten men, or in some traditions ten people of both genders, to allow the mourners to recite the prayer most associated with public mourning. Arranging food has been my task. For my brother-in-law, with the funeral conducted in a suburb with prosperous, observant Jews, and two sections of large supermarkets to accommodate them, I had difficulty assembling a suitable meal. They made hoagies of deli meats, but I had to cut them into portions and arrange them on a platter. For my sister-in-law, our small kosher section could not assemble a pareve pastry platter. Instead, I went to the Dollar Store, bought two plastic trays, then a few hours before guests arrive, I will return to the Shop-Rite bakery to purchase my own pareve selections, then display them on the trays. I will get some fruit as well, wash them, and display them.
I do not know why the demand for this service has dwindled. In addition to shiva, homes also sponsor gatherings for circumcisions of newborns, always held in the day, with either some late morning snacks or a small luncheon. For our children, Millennials from the 1980s we could count on a local kosher caterer both times. They are no more. The synagogues which have kitchens and Sisterhood volunteers have not filled in that vacuum, at least in my community.
Shiva will go on. While it would have been simpler just to arrange for catering, I am fortunate to have the capacity to fulfill this part of the observance.
No comments:
Post a Comment