Coming to grips with grief
N.J. rabbi writes about sorrow and the 'folly of ego'
, NJJN Features Editor | 05.22.08

Sidebar The Gift of Grief

Although Rabbi Matthew D. Gewirtz is excited about the publication of his first book, he is somewhat ambivalent about having it read.

It's not as much of a paradox at it might seem.

Gewirtz, author of The Gift of Grief: Finding Peace, Transformation, and Renewed Life After Great Sorrow (Celestial Arts), told NJ Jewish News in a telephone interview that those suffering a loss should take their time before studying it.

"I think it makes a big difference in the realm of grief," said the spiritual leader of Congregation B'nai Jeshurun in Short Hills. "I always recommend that people do not go to bereavement groups until there's some distance from the death. I think books like these also are not able to be taken in a way that's meaningful until there's some distance." Those periods vary widely, totally personal and without prescription. "Sometimes it's three months, sometimes it's six months, sometimes a year."

Death is not the only source of mourning. Chronic illness or the loss of a job or a relationship each has its own grieving process. "People have often said to me after a divorce, 'everyone wants to fix me up, but I need to go through shiva and shloshim first.'"

Gewirtz has firsthand experience from being "a sad, 16-year-old kid" distraught by his own parents' divorce. "It pushed me into a direction of wanting to help people. And the kids I still feel most attached to — for better for worse and I don't know if it's good for me or good for them — are the kids in my congregation who have divorced parents. Every time I help that kid, it's helping me. It's a little selfish, but it's true."

Breaking free of ego

	The Gift of Grief

When a major loss inevitably occurs, the impulse for many is to tough it out, present a strong front, and try to resume a normal life as soon as possible. But such a philosophy can actually impede the healing process, said Gewirtz.

The impetus for his book — which originally was titled Surrender Before Tragedy — came not out of a desire to answer the big question: why? Rather, he hoped to teach about the folly of ego in such desperate situations.

A key element of The Gift is bitul hanefesh, which Gewirtz described as surrendering one's ego to the realization that there is a higher power, an admittedly difficult concept to grasp in a society that teaches from an early age the joy and desirability of being special, of standing apart from the crowd and pursuing greatness, and therefore unresponsive to the message that their work and achievements do not come with a promise of immortality.

"I think when you live in a life where you have things, you have to be able to work a little bit harder to find what life is really supposed to be about," Gewirtz said.

"Our ego is a powerful tool in our lives and it's used for all kinds of things in a defense mechanism, and I say that in a positive way. However, it can also get in the way of us reaching the most important part of ourselves, our essence, what our ultimate meaning is, what our ultimate trajectory should be."

Along with the pain of loss is the truth that existed all the time below the surface and unnoticed, because ego is removed from the equation. "[It] acts as a disguise, a shell over us. One of the things that results from grief [is] of being stripped down from the love of the relationships that we had. The job we lost, but what happens at the same time that we don't always realize is that the superficial sense of self also gets stripped away.

"Why do people seem to 'get' life most when their suffering is at its acme? Surely there must be a way to attain that knowledge, that feeling, without the tragedy," he said. There are elements that can lead to bitul without suffering: moments of unadulterated joy, such as a wedding, bar mitzva, or birth where everything is taken away from you because you're just so moved. We walk around in life and don't pay attention to those things because we have jobs to go to and kids to raise and all these other things.

"When you concentrate on being so special, so unique, then it starts being all about you, as opposed to saying, 'I'm part of this incredible big, beautiful world that is so much bigger than I am and really, in comparison, I'm not so special'; and that acknowledgement somehow…helps you find what makes you so special, what makes you in the image of God."

Regardless of one's wealth or social status, "We all go to the same place in the end. And the knowledge of death and the knowledge of grief give you that awareness that it's true: It comes down to loss, and you're just the same as everyone [else]."

The concept can be immobilizing, he agreed, "but ultimately, once you're present in that feeling, then you become mobilized and free in a way.… [T]here's something beautiful underneath; at least the tradition thinks so."

Shiva, shloshim, then what?

	Rabbi Matthew Gewirtz

At some point the mourner is alone, returning to a house devoid of his or her loved one after years of love and companionship. What happens when the grief really sets in? How should friends and supporters respond? Regardless of the time that has gone by, Gewirtz said it was inappropriate to say "'Don't cry, it's going to be okay."