Eighth-day Pesach: The Tale of The Four Mourning Children

(Yizkor d’var Torah delivered by Student Rabbi Maayan Lev on April 13, 2023)

 Remembrance. We’re all here today to remember. In Judaism, we have an obligation to remember. The Haggadah teaches that in every generation, we’re all obligated to see ourselves as though we had personally been liberated from Egypt. And yet, we’re also obligated to remember our loved ones. The obligation to feel the experience of freedom and liberation is a happy one, whereas for many, the obligation to remember our loved ones is far more complicated. And that begs the question: why do we end Passover, the festival commemorating our freedom and redemption, with a Yizkor day? Is this some cruel awakening? A moment for us to stop dreaming about freedom, and instead be hit with a cold hard dose of reality, so we can take the plunge back into the everyday struggles of human life?

The answer, as would be expected when it comes to morning and remembrance, isn’t so simple. So let me answer by way of a story. It’s a story that mirrors the story of the Four Children from the Haggadah. This is the tale of the Four Mourning Children.

After a long and productive life, the patriarch of a large family passed away. His wife had passed away a few years prior. The father had four children, all but one of whom had children of their own. In the days leading up to the funeral, there was a bit of family tension, as is sometimes the case. But the funeral was very well-attended, and the Four Children did their best to present a united front at the ceremony, for the sake of their father, and because people were watching. After the funeral, the Four Children went their separate ways again. Not all of them decided to sit shiva.

Some of them wanted to stay in close contact in the months to come, and others were less enthusiastic about that idea. But they all agreed to meet again one year later, for the unveiling, knowing that this is what their father would have wanted.

The day of the unveiling came, and the four siblings met once again. Some of them had already visited each other multiple times in the past year, and some hadn’t. The family tension, which had been brewing for a full year now, reached its peak. An argument broke out. Words were exchanged. Ultimately, the argument boiled down to one thing: the siblings were mad at each other because they didn’t approve of the way the others had been mourning for the past year!

The first child was always considered the smartest. She always got the best grades as a child. She went to the best school, she got the best job, and she made the most money. According to her siblings, when her father passed, the eldest child didn’t care at all! Why did they say this about her? They said it because, apart from the day of the funeral, she never took a day off from work to mourn.

After the first few weeks, she never returned any of her siblings’ calls, texts, or emails. She always said she was too busy. And to top it all off, she was always posting photos of herself online that showed her smiling.

At the unveiling, her siblings said to her, “You abandoned us. You don’t care about us, and you clearly never cared about dad!

The woman broke down in tears. “How dare you say that I don’t care!? Of course I care! I love dad, and although I don’t always show it, I love you, too!”

She explained that for as long as she can remember, she’s approached life logically. That she’s only gotten as far in life as she has, because she always takes a focused, goal-oriented, and rational approach. When their father passed, she was devastated. In many ways, it was the most crushing moment in her entire life. Her father’s death brought up sad and dark feelings for her that she was unprepared to deal with. These feelings were new and scary to her, and she wanted more than anything to shut them off. Whenever her siblings reached out to her, she told them that their father was gone, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, and so the best solution was to simply move on with their lives.

But when they reunited at the unveiling, she admitted to her siblings that it was actually more than that. She said she couldn’t allow herself to feel sad, because she didn’t believe she was able to handle it. She needed a distraction. And so, she buried herself in her work, using that work as an anchor. She was good at it, and it gave her something to focus on. She even forced herself to smile as best she could throughout the year, so nobody would be able to tell she was repressing these feelings.

After giving this explanation, she said to her siblings: “I’m sorry I didn’t do more for you, but I’m getting through this the only way I know how. My logic-based approach doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

The eldest child then turned to her brother, and said to him: “I admit that my coping strategy isn’t perfect, but at least I have a strategy! At least I’m trying to pick up the pieces in this scary world where we no longer have our father! As for you, you’ve refused to try! You’ve forced others to provide you! You’ve quit your job! You’ve stopped doing all the activities that you used to enjoy! You never leave the house! And every time I tried to talk to you, you were always crying! I even tried to cheer you up by offering to take you on my family’s vacation, but you refused, saying it wasn’t the right time to go to Hawaii. After a while, I realized that helping you was futile, so I stopped trying to help.

“I know there’s good reason to feel sad, but how long are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself? Why are you choosing to let depression win?!”

The brother responded: “I admit it. I’m not coping well! But there’s good reason to be sad! Dad is gone! And I miss him, something fierce! He and I always had a special relationship. Without him, I like there’s a hole in my life that can never be filled. If I’m being honest with you, there’s plenty of days when I just don’t want to keep on living anymore.

But I’m still here. I’m still here, because I don’t want to abandon my husband and kids, and because I know Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to make that choice. That’s enough to tether me to this earth, but only just.

I wish I were a workaholic like you. I wish there was something I cared about so much, and was so good at, that it would give me the drive to move on with my life. But I don’t have anything that motivates me like that. All I can think about is Dad. And so, I live in the memories. My methods aren’t perfect, but neither are yours! Just like you, I’m doing the best I can.”

The brother then turned to the third sibling, and said to them: “I have to admit, I don’t really have a good reason to be angry with you. I know you miss Dad. I know you care. You’ve reached out to me many times. You’ve said all the right things. You tried to help, even after it became clear that it wasn’t working. But for the longest time, you and I were in this state of misery together! The reason I’m mad is because somehow, over time, you’ve seemed to get over it and heal, whereas I never could! I’m so envious of that!”

They replied to their brother: “I understand what you’re going through. I know it’s not easy. I’ve learned to take things one day at a time. Those days aren’t all the same. Just because I’m coping with things a bit better than you are right now, doesn’t mean I don’t still have some really hard days. Sometimes, I feel the same as you. On the days when I’m sad, I don’t repress it, because I have good reason to feel sad. And on the days when I’m happier, I don’t begrudge myself that happiness, because it’s good to feel happy. Most days, however, are actually something in between.

“I’m trying to live in the present, while also remembering the past. No matter what kind of day I’m having, I still carry Dad with me. I know I’m lucky. I know I’m having an easier time than you right now, and believe me, if I could ease some of your burden by swapping places with you, I would. But we both know it’s not that simple. It’s taken me several months to get to this state. But it’s only been a year. That really isn’t a very long time, in the grand scheme of things. There’s a good reason to hope that things will get better for you. But however long I need to be there for you, I will always be there for you.

Then they turned to the last sibling, and said to her: “why is it, that for a year, you’ve always been silent? You went to the funeral, but you said almost nothing that day. You attended the first few days of shiva, but then skipped the last few days without saying goodbye! You sent flowers to all of our houses every week for a month, and you even come over for dinner regularly and play with my kids! But every time I bring up Dad, you change the subject! Why? What are you trying to hide from?

The youngest child looked at her siblings, and whispered, “I’m sorry. It’s really hard for me to admit this, but the truth is, the reason I’ve always avoided talking about Dad is because I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t feel the way society says I should feel when a parent dies.

“I don’t think I had the same relationship with Dad that you all have had. We rarely had pleasant interactions. I’m grateful to him for taking care of me and putting a roof over my head for so many years, and if I could bring him back, I would. But for whatever reason, his passing just doesn’t make me sad. I’m neutral about it. And I know I shouldn’t be.

I wish I could feel more, but I don’t. I still came to the funeral, because I knew it was the right thing to do. But I quickly realized after the first few days of shiva, that it was doing nothing for me. I didn’t wanna spoil the mood or make people angry by saying that I had no strong feelings, or by not acting sad enough, so I just stopped coming.

“The truth is, the only time I cried about Dad, is because I was crying over the fact that I felt like my soul was defective for not caring enough. My inability to feel what I’m supposed to feel made me feel broken. But I can’t wave a magic wand and command myself to feel something I just don’t feel! I still showed up today. I came, first and foremost, because I care about you! I’m trying, to the best of my capacity, to be here for you all.”

And with that, the four siblings looked into each other’s eyes, and they embraced. Their love for each other had never been stronger.

It wasn’t that they suddenly all got along. They knew things were still messy, and they would probably always be a little messy. But they realized that they were wrong to judge each other for the way that they mourned. They realized that everyone mourns a little bit differently, each in their own way. When it comes to mourning, nobody has a monopoly on truth or wisdom.

And so, to answer the question of why it’s appropriate to conclude Passover with a Yizkor service, there’s probably many answers. But my answer for today, and hopefully it will resonate with you, is that the beautiful thing about Yizkor is that we have the freedom to honor people’s memories however we like, in ways that are authentic to us. The way you remember probably isn’t identical to the way the person next to you is remembering. How could it be? We are different, we are remembering different people, and each relationship is different. So we don’t need to ask questions; we don’t need to be nosy. We’re free now to feel whatever we feel. And by choosing to remember together, instead of separately, we honor each other’s freedom, path, and way forward.

On this Yizkor day, may more healing be at hand. Amen.