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Health,
Emotional support, no. An acknowledgment would have been appreciated deeply.
The rabbi made a choice. I accept that. I do think that if there are any rabbis out there who read this, I would encourage them to at least express a minimal word of sympathy in such situations, that’s all.
It is not “guilt”, but I think the absence of the communal support that is normally part of the Jewish way of mourning. We (and I include myself) don’t really know how to respond outside those boundaries.
In truth, the process has taught me to appreciate more deeply the practices that define Jewish mourning — even though they did not pertain to my loss.
My own non-Jewish father was buried yesterday, in a service I could not attend because it was on Shabbos and conducted by non-jewish clergy. I loved my father deeply, and I can assure all of you that these issues at times burn deeply — burn as did the memorial candle I lit with my Shabbos candles in his memory. The flame died around 1 pm, during the hour of his burial.
I was with my father the last week of his life as he was lying on his bed dying of Alzheimer’s. I had flown out to be by his side, not so much because of what my Mom ( in her 80’s and also non-Jewish) had said, but because the “still and quiet voice” that spoke within me was insistent. Go. Now. He may not have even recognized me, but I kissed him. And I helped Mom with his care — whatever it took. I did it out of love, and out of a deep knowledge that this was the greatest honor and respect I could give — to escort him in as much dignity and love as possible on the final steps of his journey in this life.
He lived through the following Shabbos (for which I had prayed, and am thankful) and died on Motzei Shabbos.
There are boundaries that could not ultimately be crossed. The choice to cremate his remains was Mom’s. I spoke to her of the Jewish approach, and she considered it deeply before making a different choice. There was no Shiva. I let some of my friends know. Several sent condolences via facebook, a couple via email. One called. One couple brought soup. The rabbi never said a word. Not even yesterday, when I was in Shul, doing my best to pray, while knowing that the father’s remains were being placed in their final resting place that day. Perhaps it is better. Had he suggested that my father, whom Hashem had chosen to raise me, to help instill the values that in the end brought me to Judaism was not truly my father…
But he said nothing. Jews are a compassionate people.
I once thought Truth was black and white, as defined as the letters on the Sefer Torah. No longer. If one only sees the letters, but not the meaning, not the life behind them, not the true goals, then they are like shadows, creating darkness. See them for what they truly are, a connection to the Eternal, a connection to the Source of strength and compassion, of honor and respect, and all that truly sustains us; Then they are white fire on black fire — illumninating our lives.
In matters where compassion and understanding beg us to look deeper, do not cast them to the ground and cover them with shadows. Bring light. The world could use it.