The End of Shloshim

It's been really easy for me to remember when the coronavirus became more than just something that impacted people internationally or on cruise ships. My dad's funeral was on Wednesday, March 11th. That evening, the NBA shut down after Utah Jazz's Rudy Gobert tested positive for COVID-19, Tom Hanks announced that he tested positive in Australia, and Sarah Palin was revealed as the Bear on The Masked Singer. It was truly a surreal day. 

On our drive home from Pittsburgh a few days later, we found out that my kids' schools and my office were going to be closed the following week. I went to my synagogue for Shabbat services on Friday night and Saturday and people really didn't know how to react. There were a few elbow bumps but no handshakes or hugs. This was also before people realized that masks helped. On Sunday evening, we hosted some friends for shiva, part of the week-long mourning period in Judaism, and that was really the last time I spent time with people other than those in my home without social distancing. 

Right around that time, many people around the country started to realize that a lot of things needed to happen online instead of in person and that included religious services. While my own synagogue hosted services online each week on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I needed somewhere for the other days of the week.

(Sorry. I've been in the same room as my first grader during his school day for months!)

On that first Monday and Tuesday, I found an online minyan (a quorum of 10 people for a prayer service) in order to say the Mourner's prayer for my dad. I didn't know anyone at that particular synagogue, and it was awkward with everyone trying to figure out how an online service should work. Then, I connected with a friend from college who just happened to be a rabbi. Even though she and her synagogue are several thousand miles and several time zones away, I started joining their minyans. So every day since I got home from the funeral in March, I've attended a minyan between my synagogue and my friend's congregation (with an occasional cameo at my brother's synagogue). While I wrote about much of this way back in June, the period of Shloshim* officially ended for me on Monday. (I also tried to explain what shiva and shloshim are in that post.) Before I get to the thank you portion of this post, I thought I would share some highlights from attending online services every day since March.

- Seeing a guy in his 70s without a shirt while eating breakfast at his kitchen table.

- Witnessing a family perform the Adon Olam prayer/song together to the tune of Backstreet Boys' I Want It That Way. (It was truly awesome!)

- Being able to "attend" a Bar Mitzvah in Arizona while in my own home.

- Attending a B'Not Mitzvah and listening to three girls singing almost magically together.

- Wearing pajama pants for the vast majority of these services. 

- Hearing some variation of "you're on mute," "you need to unmute yourself," or "can everyone mute themselves" probably hundreds of times.

- Watching a recognizable TV personality on the computer screen as he attended the same service as me. He appeared to be wearing a Cleveland Browns sweater. 

(It was not one of the guys in this picture.)

It's amazing that my dad passed away 11 months ago in the Hebrew calendar. Being able to attend these services has really been comforting. With everything going on in my life and in the country during this pandemic, this has been the one consistent part of my life each and every day. I now have two separate communities where I feel welcomed. And yes, it's still a little strange knowing many of these people only via Zoom and never really having one-on-one conversations. I'm not trying to do a silver lining thing here, but I wouldn't have done services during the entire 11-month period every day in normal times. It just wouldn't have been realistic with commuting to and from work, kids activities, and even just driving to services. 

I want to thank my family for being supportive in me doing services the entire time. Thanks to both synagogues for having online minyans during the pandemic. And thanks to you for reading this blog post. 

* Update/Correction: Shloshim in Hebrew means 30, so the 30-day mourning period actually ended in April. There does not seem to be a specific name for the 11-month period for a parent, so I'm using the term incorrectly. Since this has already been published, I'll keep the name, especially since The End of the 11-Month Mourning Period isn't as "catchy" of a title.

Mourning During COVID-19: June Update

Let me preface this by stating that this is a bit of an unusual post for me. I get into religion and prayer, but it ends with me trying to be funny. Actually, most of my posts are me trying to be funny, though I'm not sure how often I succeed. 

In tradition Judaism, there is a seven-day period of mourning following the burial called shiva. There is also a 30-day period after the burial, including the seven days of shiva, called Sheloshim, which is observed by immediate family members. You don't work during the shiva period, but you can work during Sheloshim though there are still some restrictions. The restrictions are refraining from attending joyous celebrations like weddings, dances, or parties. Basically, anything with music. If the deceased is a parent, there is a full year of mourning (actually 11 months) where the restrictions still apply. Apparently, there is a loophole here. Let's say that you're a musician who earns a living by playing at weddings. In this case, you can still do your job. The same would apply if you help out at a joyous occasion. Like help clear some dishes or set the table. Anyway, through all of this, you're also supposed to attend services daily to say the Mourner's Kaddish prayer.

Still with me? Thanks!

I wrote a post back in March about mourning the loss of my dad at the beginning of the COVID-19 stay at home period. Over two months later, and just a few days after we started "Phase 1" in Northern Virginia, a lot of things haven't changed. Thanks to Zoom, I've participated in some type of prayer service every day since my dad's funeral with the exception of the first night of Passover since we were doing a Seder. Why is this night different than all other nights indeed! In normal times, I wouldn't attend services daily. I probably would have during the Sheloshim period, but it just wouldn't have been realistic to do this every day for a full year. To be a parent to three kids while commuting about two hours to and from work each day and then driving to a synagogue (or synagogues since mine doesn't have daily services) for a service and then back home? There's no way. Being at home, however, all I have to go to a different room for 30-45 minutes (or more on Saturdays). It's become a constant for me. Some sense of normalcy in these otherwise very abnormal times. I mentioned some of what I just wrote in that March post.

And now to a dramatic shift in this post. 

The Torah portion a few weeks ago was Parashat Bamidbar. Yes, I just included a word with "shat" in it in a blog post! At this point, the ten plagues already happened and the Jews were freed from slavery in Egypt thanks in part to the leadership of Charlton Heston.

We join this story already in progress where a census is taken of the Israelite community. What's interesting is that the census only counted men who were 20 or older. It seems totally unfair that some Israelites were old enough to buy lottery tickets, but couldn't get counted in the census. Oh yeah, they didn't count women either. You can probably predict that every rabbi in America made sure to include the importance of the 2020 census in their sermon. 

A significant part of the portion is then spent naming all of the men responsible for conducting the census. There are a lot of biblical names that are still common today. Jacob, Rebecca, and Sara are at the top of the list. This Torah portion listed some names that I think are due for a comeback. So if you are expecting a boy or have a new pet, I hope that you consider these names: Zurishaddai, Zuar, Eliab, Ochran, Deuel, and Pagiel.

The world would be a better place with more Zuars. Zuar good, Zuul bad!

Mourning During COVID-19

I hope that this doesn’t sound cold or mean. My dad picked a good time to die. My brother and I flew to South Florida a few weeks ago to see him before he passed away. Then, my family and I drove to Pittsburgh for the funeral. We also held Shiva, the traditional seven-day period of mourning after the burial, at my parents’ Pittsburgh synagogue. Although some people greeted me by touching elbows at the funeral and at Shiva, this was still before social distancing started, and people came. Then, I returned to Northern Virginia, attended services at my synagogue and was able to host a Shiva one night at my home. That was Sunday, March 15th. That was also basically the last day I left the neighborhood. Oh, in case you're wondering, we were able to have a minyan at my home, so I didn't need to ask Larry David or Bill Buckner to join us.



In traditional Jewish culture, there is a 30-day period of mourning after burial called Sheloshim, which includes the first seven days of Shiva. Mourners can return to work, but there are some other restrictions that still apply. In normal times, I would go to synagogue daily for prayer including reciting the Mourners Kaddish with at least 9 other adults. (Again, needing a minyan.) Well, my synagogue and likely every other place of worship shut down because of the coronavirus. Enter the online service! I participated in an online service via Zoom with a Pittsburgh synagogue last week. It was weird, mostly because I didn't know anyone leading or participating in the service and since this was the first online service for everyone. Even though everyone’s in their own home, there’s still a community to this, so it was nice. Plus, this was the first time that Ziggy was able to see a service. (He has joined me on several work video calls too. Why should a laptop be on my lap when he could be there?)

My synagogue hosted a service on Wednesday, so I actually knew the rabbi and some of the people there. Then, I saw on Facebook that a friend of mine from college was hosting an online service. Oh, I should probably mention that this friend is now a rabbi in Denver. It has been really cool connecting with her again, and I enjoy her service and being a part of "my Denver community" from 1,700 miles away!

With schools closed and my office closed and my five-person family being in the same house together 24/7, there really hasn't been any time for grief or reflection. My rabbi gave me a few books about death and grieving, but they are sitting unopened next to my bed. I'm working from home now, but it's definitely not my normal schedule. There are several breaks during the day to be with the kids, so after they go to bed and the dishwasher, trash, laundry, and Ziggy's litter box are taken care of, I'm back on my computer doing work. If we were in our normal routine, I probably would think more about my dad during my commute to and from work. I'd definitely open the books.

Through all of this, the online services have given me a little bit of a routine at a time when there is no normal routine. It's comforting knowing that I have a set time each day to participate in this. Full disclosure: Although I generally wear a nice shirt, I often wear pajama pants during these services. I probably shouldn't share this. Oh well. So if the kids come bursting into the room during the service, I'll probably just sit there with my eyes closed and apologizing so that no one can see me wearing pajama pants.



Looking back at the last few weeks, I'm grateful that my dad died when he did. We knew that he didn't have much time left, and it was a blessing that we got to spend time with him and my mom before he passed away. I feel awful for families dealing with loved ones passing away now, particularly of those dying from the coronavirus. They aren't able to be in the same hospital rooms as their quarantined loved ones. Funerals are being delayed or done on a much smaller scale. I was able to spend time with family and friends in the immediacy of my dad's death. It definitely brought comfort. There's not that same type of comfort or closure for friends and family of loved ones passing away today.