Jewish tradition, with its profound wisdom, offers guidance even on how to mourn – and when to let go.
The Book of Ben Sira, a work of wisdom literature from the Second Temple period, offers some surprisingly direct advice about remembering the dead. It’s not what you might expect. It almost sounds…harsh.
"Set not the heart upon him any more," Ben Sira urges. "Dismiss his remembrance, and remember the end." Strong words, right? It feels almost counter-intuitive. Shouldn't we cherish the memories of those we've lost?
But look closer. The text continues, "Remember his sentence, for it is thy sentence; His yesterday, and thine to day." He’s not suggesting we forget the person entirely. Instead, Ben Sira seems to be saying that dwelling excessively on the past can trap us. Their fate is now their fate, and you have to live your life. Facing the reality of mortality, both theirs and our own, is key to moving forward.
There's a practical reason, too. "Remember him not, for there is no hope for him," Ben Sira says. "What shalt thou profit him? And thou shalt hurt thyself." This isn't about being callous; it’s about recognizing the limits of our ability to help. Obsessive mourning can be self-destructive, preventing us from engaging with the world and living fully.
"When the dead is at rest, let his remembrance rest; And be comforted when his soul departeth." This line offers a sense of closure. Once the period of mourning is over, we should allow their memory to find peace. This isn’t about forgetting, but about finding a healthy balance between remembrance and moving on. It's about accepting the natural cycle of life and death and finding comfort in the belief that their soul has found its place.
Then, in a seemingly unrelated turn, Ben Sira shifts gears. "The wisdom of the scribe increaseth wisdom; And he that hath little business shall become wise." What’s this about?
It’s actually quite connected. After dealing with loss, we need to find ways to re-engage with life. Ben Sira suggests that immersing ourselves in study, in the pursuit of wisdom, can be a path towards healing and renewed purpose. It's about finding meaning in the present and future, rather than being consumed by the past.
But what about those who don't have the luxury of endless study? Ben Sira asks, "How shall he get wisdom that holdeth the plough, And glorieth in the stimulant spear?" In other words, how can the working person, the farmer or the soldier, find wisdom?
This question acknowledges that not everyone has the time or resources for formal learning. The answer, implied but not explicitly stated, lies in the experiences of everyday life. Wisdom can be found in hard work, in observing the natural world, and in interacting with others. Even in the midst of labor, there is opportunity for reflection and growth.
So, what does Ben Sira ultimately teach us? It's not about forgetting those we’ve lost, but about honoring their memory in a way that allows us to live fully. It's about finding a balance between remembrance and moving forward, and about seeking wisdom in all aspects of life, whether through study or through the daily grind. It’s a tough lesson, but one that can ultimately lead to healing and a renewed appreciation for the preciousness of life.