I awoke this morning feeling sad about those poor souls murdered last week at the Jewish Community Campus and Village Shalom:  Dr. Bill Corporon, Reat Underwood, and Terri Lamanno, religious Christians all. I can only imagine the tragic emotions of their families, and my heart goes out to them.

We emotionally attach ourselves to those we love.  In our grief we struggle to hold on to many of those invisible lines of connection.  The pain of loss throbs within not only because we lack their presence, but also because we desire to maintain every possible link in order to avoid abandoning their place in our lives. The irony is that so often people feel disloyal to the deceased if, as mourners, we attempt to find happiness.  We feel that not only are we deserting what they meant to us, but that somehow we ought never be blissful without their companionship.

The kaddish prayer addresses that internal instinct of disloyalty. By reciting kaddish from the grave forward, tradition insists that even though we resist, we are commanded to go on and strive for full lives without those who lie in the grave. It’s not disloyal to work towards enjoying life even though our loved one has died.  By tradition we return slowly to normalcy: giving up entertainment for at least the first month, avoiding certain pleasures.  I have often told people it’s because we feel these activities are not appropriate in the light of our loss and death itself. And that’s true. But there’s this other aspect: “You are no longer alive, but I will not abandon my love of you in death.  You are not alone in the grave.” We are not abandoning our loved ones who have died.  It’s not disloyal to enjoy life to the fullest, insofar as that is possible, even though they no longer walk by our side.

When I first studied the Talmudic text that men may not wear a tallit in the cemetery because the dead will be jealous, I thought it was ridiculous.  Now I understand its logic.  “How can I gain pleasure from life when the person I loved has suffered and can no longer have the same pleasure I enjoy, in this case: fulfilling the mitzvot?”  It’s totally natural to feel that way, but, nonetheless, tradition demands that from the cemetery forward we begin the journey that returns us to the world of living rather than attempting to keep one leg in the grave with our beloved.

Jewish tradition is ever so wise, and tuned in to the actual lives we lead. I pray for healing for all those who have lost family or friends in this tragedy. May we all restore ourselves to health and strength, wiser and closer to one another because even in tragedy there are lessons to be learned about life’s beauty.