The Questions (and Answers) of BDJ

View a printable version of this Q & A here.

Q: Recently in shul, Rav Yosef talked about the halachic concept of a person saying Shehchiyanu  - in addition to Baruch Dayan HaEmet  - when a parent dies, in a situation in which the parent’s death results in the person receiving an inheritance. He mentioned that this is usually not done today in practice. What is the reasoning for that? Are there any parameters where one might say it?

A: (RYK) This is a story about a spiritual / emotional instinct prevailing over an explicit halacha. Following the ruling of the Gemara, the Shulchan Aruch rules that in fact both brachot are to be recited (with Dayan Ha’emet first) under the circumstances described in the question. And while some subsequent, including contemporary, writers assume that this is the practice, many others are aghast at the thought of it. Writing at the turn of the 20th century, Rabbi Chaim Elazar Shapira (Nimukei Orach Chaim 223) says, “It is obvious that the practice of the entire world is not to do this… We have never heard of a person reciting these two brachot upon the death of a parent…. It would have the appearance of terrible cruelty and of disrespect of the father…. The ‘custom of Israel, which is Torah’ is to not say Shehechiyanu under these circumstances…” Writing much more recently, Rabbi Moshe Shternbuch (Teshuvot V’hanhagot 2:140) similarly says, “Go out and see what the people actually do…. If a person is enveloped in pain and cannot feel joy over the inheritance at that moment, there is no place for this bracha… leave Israel to its customs, and one should not deviate.” 

For support, both Rav Shapira and Rav Shternbuch reference the Rama who says that in our day the general category of brachot over good tidings is optional in any case, but it is abundantly clear that the fact that the people can’t imagine such a bracha while in the midst of mourning is the sufficient and appropriate driver.

Q: Is someone's “year after a parent’s death” mourning practice subjective to their own particular needs and what they consider celebratory? For example, as was discussed last year, you answered my similar question about the 3 weeks and Omer regarding watching movies and other practices as potentially being different from family to family. Would the same answer apply to someone who experiences the death of a parent? Would a movie be inappropriate for some and not for others for example?

A: (RYK) To some degree yes, but to a large degree, no. The rules around the 3 weeks and the Omer are vague. What is explicitly prohibited is ריקודים ומחולות , i.e. dance parties. We have absolutely generalized that category to include all events at which there is live music, events that are expressly celebratory in nature even if there is no music, and “entertainment events”. This last category definitely has a subjective quality to it (a movie qualifies for some people, but not necessarily for others), and this subjective element does have application to the laws of mourning as well. 

But the laws of mourning feature additional categories that are much more objective in nature. These include שמחת מריעות, literally “the joy of gathering with friends”, בית השמחה, a joyous / celebratory event, andבית המשתה, a festive meal. Unlike the purpose of the Omer and 3 weeks restrictions which are focused on commemorating particular historical events, the year of mourning for a parent is designed to be a profound and final act of “honoring thy parent”, through not deliberately distracting ourselves from awareness of our parent’s life and loss, and through avoiding situations in which it might appear that we think little of that loss.

Q: What are some general guidelines for attending/participating in lifecycle (e.g. christening / marriage / death) observances for non-Jewish friends?  If the event occurs outside or in a secular room (i.e. not in a Church)  ̶  does that loosen restrictions?

A: (RYK) This is an important question, as we want to be present for our non-Jewish friends (as we want them to be present for us), and respectful toward their religious traditions. At the same time, both halacha and history forbid us from acknowledging, or even appearing to acknowledge the divinity of any God but God, and this generates a significant halachic issue relative to attending any kind of Christian rite. I acknowledge that this can present real-life challenges in terms of our social and professional relationships. 

The majority of halachic authorities actually forbid entry into churches altogether on the grounds that Christian worship is classified (at the very least) as “foreign worship” (avoda zara) for Jews, as it is invariably bound up with the belief in Jesus’ divinity, and the notion that God took on bodily human existence. Those authorities who take a more lenient approach permit entering churches when worship is not actively going on (and into the spaces within the church in which worship is not actively going on), but still draw a strict line at being present during a worship service, where our mere presence can suggest participation. Exceptions are sometimes carved out for instances in which the circumstances make it clear that we are not there to participate in worship but for some other reason, but these are case-by-case. (When carving out these kinds of exceptions, distinctions are also drawn between Catholic and Protestant churches.)

Funerals and weddings that take place inside a church are assumed to involve moments of Christian worship / prayer, and thus we should not attend them, as the line between being “intentionally present” and “participating” is a very tenuous and ill-defined one. And any ceremony that involves Christian worship elements, regardless of where it is held, follows the same rule. But we may and should certainly demonstrate our support and love through attending components of the event that do not take place inside the sanctuary of the church, and do not involve worship or prayer. 

None of the above applies to mosques, as Muslim worship is regarded as purely monotheistic, and as being directed to the same God whom we worship. (I’ve actually learned over the years that Islam is in certain ways more meticulously monotheistic than we are, eschewing for example the Biblical and rabbinic expression “image of God” which we so often invoke in describing the human being.)

Q: If one has a parent that they have a very bad relationship with them (e.g. abuse), can one modify the bereavement process after they pass?

A: (RDS) First of all, thank you for this question - I want to acknowledge how weighty and difficult this topic can be. While the mourning process itself is often fraught with pain and grief, these emotions are obviously even more difficult when dealing with the trauma of abuse. So, at the outset, I want to recognize the sensitivity of the question and note that while we will outline broad halakhic categories and approaches to the question, every individual situation may differ, and that practical guidance in these cases are best dealt with in partnership with Rabbis, mental health professionals, and of course the mourner. 

To first lay out the general parameters, it’s worthwhile to consider several fundamental concepts pertaining to aveilut (mourning). First and foremost is the question of who the mourning process is for - is this an experience that is designed to provide respect or “atonement” for the deceased, or are the laws of mourning dedicated to the emotional grief and support of the family? This question is at the heart of the Talmud’s earliest discussions about modified mourning practices, including the gemara’s consideration of whether to respect an individual’s request not to be buried (Sanhedrin 46b). If burial provides a level of dignity to the deceased’s family (or humanity in general), then the requirement cannot be waived. If, however, burial is a mitzvah that is designed to provide respect or atonement for the deceased, then, the gemara argues, certainly he or she could waive that benefit before death! Indeed, this question speaks to a broader phenomenon: while reciting kaddish, for example, is generally understood to be a practice that is for the “benefit” or “atonement” of the deceased, many mourners find profound emotional comfort in the process of dedicating 11 months to the rituals of daily tefillah and minyan. 

This distinction is particularly important with regards to the year-long mourning period for a parent, with many authorities arguing that this entire extended mourning period is an expression of kibbud av v’em - honoring one’s parents. Indeed, while the Rama (Yoreh De’ah 344:10) rules that a parent cannot require a child to forgo the rituals of shiva and shloshim, it is generally accepted that, if requested by a parent before their death, children can and should forgo the year-long mourning observances for that parent. 

Would we similarly waive these practices, then, for an abusive parent? Here, too, halakha provides us with some clear guidelines. While there is no question as to the importance of the mitzvah of honoring one’s parents (especially as we read of them in the ten commandments this shabbos), there are also clear limits to this mitzvah. One does not have to honor a parent’s demand to violate the Torah (Bava Metzia 32a). The Rama rules that one can prevent a parent from causing them financial harm (Yoreh De’ah 240:8), and cites those who argue that one does not need to show respect for a “wicked” parent (Yoreh De’ah 240:18). Furthermore, Rabbi Dov Linzer has pointed out that the Maharik (Rabbi Yosef Kolon, 1420-1480, Italy) ruled that the mitzvah of honoring one’s parent does not extend to cases where doing so would cause emotional pain to the child. 

Taken together, then, what emerges is that when it comes to mourning practices that are explicitly dedicated to the honor or respect of one’s parents - such as eulogies, year-long mourning restrictions for parents, kaddish, or yizkor - then one would be able to waive or modify these observances in cases of an abusive parent.

Two caveats: parent-child relationships are often complicated, and there are few, if any, mourning experiences that are without some layer of complexity. In many cases, the year-long period of mourning is an opportunity for a son or daughter to process, reframe, and reconcile the legacy and memory of a complex relationship. Thus, while the extremes are clear - a caring, supportive, and loving parent is to be mourned normally, while when dealing with a horrific case of parental sexual abuse we would certainly modify the mourning practices - there is a broad spectrum in between in which the observance of aveilut itself can be a healthy vehicle for processing the relationship with one’s parents. Relatedly, as noted above, while these observances may be technically designed to honor parents, in practice they often provide space, comfort, and support for the mourner’s grief, and so in practice these questions are best dealt with on an individual basis.