Shiva

This secular prayer is intended to celebrate the ordinary and cherished existence of the person who has died (rather than the celebration of faith to a deity). It is offered as a non-religious alternative to the traditional Kaddish prayer so that a secular person might recite it in good conscience, finding solace in reverence for life. 

We celebrate the spark which illuminates life and fades at death, and we accept this great mystery.

In this world that is created new with each sunrise, we open the robe of [   's] existence,

crafted of fabric woven from every ordinary day, with innumerable pockets sheltering all the

moments and purposes that comprise a full life. A robe embellished with joys and accomplishments, made shiny at the seat by sharing life's table, frayed at the cuffs by sorrows,

worn at the elbows from the labors of living.

May remembering [    ] be a blessing.

May the humor, common sense, and skills that [    ] honed in life remain a contribution to the family and the community. And may [   's] mistakes and challenges be remembered so that

the wisdom earned from their lessons learned will also stay with us. 

May remembering [    ] be a blessing.

In this world where [    ] learned, labored, and loved may their existence continue to radiate goodness, and may the things [    ] created be put to use and appreciated.

May remembering [    ] be a blessing.

May our hearts beat steadily together in the rhythm of life as we remember [    ] in the fullness of themself, and release [    ] now in love.   

May remembering [    ] be a blessing to all.

-by Dina Stander

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

“Esa Einai El Heharim, Me’ayin yavo ezri?”

I lift my eyes unto the mountains, from where will my help come? Psalm 121:1 

It is now time for me to transition from my first thirty days of mourning and integrate more fully into the fabric of life. For thirty days, I have known the sorrow of grief, my heart yearning to have but one more moment with my beloved.

I look to you, HaShem, raising my eyes from the pits of the Earth to the Heavens above, I ask for your comfort and mercy. Embrace me with gentleness and peace as I commit to living my life with kedushah, holiness, in the name of _______________.

May I remember that on this journey of life, this is but one loss along the way. For thirty days I have lived in retreat and now must have the courage to take the next step into the mystery that awaits me.

-by Rabbi Eva Sax-Bolder

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Originally published in Laments & Kavannot for The Journey, produced for Kavod V’Nichum’s annual North America Chevra Kadisha Conference and shared with author’s permission.

When leaving a home where people are mourning, we offer words of comfort to remind the mourners they are not alone in their grief. 

People from Sephardi heritage traditionally say, “Min hashamayim tenachumu,” which means “May you be comforted by heaven.” And people from Ashkenazi heritage say, “Hamakom yenakhem etekhem betokh shaar avelay tziyon viyrushalayim,” which means, “May the Presence bring you comfort among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.” 

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Marking the end of shloshim can take the shape of a large public gathering, or an intimate circle at home. Here, we share rituals, prayers and poems that are pathways to mark the end of shloshim. You may wish to create your own. 

Some people mark the end of shloshim by reciting the Kaddish prayer, learning a piece of Jewish text or teaching from the weekly Torah portion. You may wish to read a poem, a chapter or a paragraph from a book or author beloved by the person who has died, and reflect on how it connects to their essence. Or, share stories that illustrate their values and who they were as a person. You may also mark the end of shloshim by donating and inviting others to give to a cause that was special to the person who died. 

And like so many Jewish gatherings, the end of shloshim is an opportunity to eat together. You can cook your loved one’s favorite foods or order from their favorite restaurant. 

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

It’s customary to tear one’s garment or a ribbon at the funeral to signify who is in mourning. As we end the week of shiva, we take a moment to put that garment back together. Like our hearts in this moment, our garment will always bear the mark of its tearing, but with this intention, we begin the process of sewing ourselves together. 

Source of Wholeness, as I tore this garment when my

loved one died, so now I prepare to baste/sew the

tear back together.

This garment will never be the same as it was before

I tore it in the first expression of my shock and grief.

I don’t need a visible reminder of my loss. My life

will go on and it will never be the same without my

beloved.

This mending symbolizes that I put my trust in the One

Who Heals.

May each stitch bring acceptance. May each stitch bring

me closer to a sense of the Oneness of All.

-by Rabbi Janet Madden

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Originally published in Laments & Kavannot for The Journey, produced for Kavod V’Nichum’s annual North America Chevra Kadisha Conference and shared with author’s permission.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

G-d of the Heartbroken,

Only you truly know how I have been crushed 

by the loss of my beloved.

Only you know how lost I have felt,

how empty life seems,

how hard it has been to talk

with even my closest friends.

In this past month, only you know

how I have wept every sleepless night.

Every one of these thirty days, I have dwelt in pain,

in separation and loss.

I have daily confronted the frightening reality

that my life will continue,

and that it—and I—will never be the same.

I have been set apart by my grief.

But as hard as this time has been,

I have also felt held by my community,

according to our tradition, that allows me my sorrow.

And our tradition also teaches that with these thirty days,

intense mourning comes to an end.

I know that it is time now to begin to move

from this space of devastation and protection

back into my community and into the wider world.

As I leave this sacred time, I thank you, El Male Rachamin,

Compassionate One, for this precious womb-time of sheloshim.

I ask for your continued shelter as I begin to make my way.

May your compassion encourage me

to be compassionate with myself and with others.

May I learn how to live without my beloved.

May I remember that you, and my beloved, are always with me.

-by Rabbi Janet Madden

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Originally published in Laments & Kavannot for The Journey, produced for Kavod V’Nichum’s annual North America Chevra Kadisha Conference and shared with author’s permission.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective