Take mourning rituals, for example. The familiar seven-day period of intense mourning, the shivah. Where did that come from? Well, let's dive into Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis, and see what it has to say!
The Rabbis of old grappled with this very question. "They lamented…there…," the text begins, hinting at the question: how do we know mourning lasts seven days? Rabbi Abba finds a hint in Genesis 50:10, "He…observed mourning for his father for seven days." He makes a bold claim: we can derive a halakha (a point of Jewish law) from events that happened even before the Torah was given at Sinai!
But that's just one opinion. Reish Lakish, quoting bar Kappara, sees the source in Leviticus 8:33: "From the entrance of the Tent of Meeting you shall not emerge seven days…" The idea is that just as the priests were consecrated for seven days, so too do we mourn for seven days. There's even a variation on this, referencing Leviticus 10:7, connecting the seven days to the anointing oil and the mourning for Nadav and Avihu.
Rabbi Hoshaya takes a different tack altogether, pointing to Leviticus 8:35: "At the entrance of the Tent of Meeting you shall remain day and night, seven days…" His interpretation? Just as the Holy One, blessed be He, observed seven days [of mourning] for His world, we too observe seven days for our brothers. Wait, God mourned? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi chimes in, saying that God mourned for the world for seven days before the flood, an idea alluded to in Genesis 7:10! It’s a pretty amazing concept, isn't it? That God Himself sets the example for mourning.
Then comes Rabbi Yoḥanan, bringing in Numbers 12:12: "Please let her not be like a corpse…she shall be quarantined for seven days." He draws a parallel between the seven days of quarantine for Miriam and the seven days of mourning. However, one of the Sages shares this with Reish Lakish, who rejects it. Why? Because Reish Lakish argues that Rabbi Yoḥanan elsewhere compares it to confirmed leprosy, where the Torah doesn't explicitly mention a seven-day period. This is a classic example of rabbinic debate, where different interpretations and traditions are weighed against each other.
Rabbi Yirmeya and Rabbi Ḥiyya bar Abba, quoting Reish Lakish, bring in a verse from Amos 8:10: "I will transform your festivals into mourning." The comparison is direct: just as festivals last seven days, so too does mourning. Rabbi Ḥiyya complicates things slightly by pointing out that Shemini Atzeret, the "eighth [day] of assembly," is a festival in and of itself, lasting only one day. The response? This applies to "distant tidings" – news of a death received long after it occurred, which only requires one day of mourning.
This leads to a discussion of "near" versus "distant" tidings and how long the mourning period should be in each case. Rabbi Abahu, quoting Rabbi Yoḥanan, says that "near tidings" are within thirty days, and "distant ones" are after thirty days. Rabbi Berekhya and Rabbi Yona, quoting Reish Lakish in the name of Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, break down the mourning periods based on the phrase "The days of weeping of the mourning of Moses concluded." "Days" equals two, "weeping" equals seven, and "mourning" equals thirty. Or, depending on how you transpose it, days equal seven, weeping equals two, and mourning equals thirty.
There's even a discussion about how long a mourner should refrain from work. Bar Kappara says the most intense period of mourning is the first three days. He offers a striking image: for those three days, the soul hovers over the grave, believing it will return to the body. When it sees the face has changed, it departs.
And what about donning tefillin? Rabbi Eliezer says one doesn't on the first day, but does on the second – unless a new person arrives to offer condolences. Rabbi Yehoshua says one doesn't on the first two days, and dons on the third, and a new visitor doesn't change that. The ruling of Rabbi Ze’eira follows Rabbi Eliezer regarding donning and Rabbi Yehoshua regarding removing.
Finally, the text addresses the question of mourning on Shabbat. Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, points to Proverbs 10:22: "The blessing of the Lord, it will enrich, without adding sadness with it." The blessing of the Lord refers to the Sabbath, and the "sadness" refers to mourning. Rav and Shmuel debate the specifics, such as whether it's compulsory or voluntary to turn around a torn garment or put on shoes. The story of Rabbi Meir greeting mourners on Shabbat is used to illustrate that there is no mourning on Shabbat.
So, what do we take away from all this? More than just the source of the seven-day mourning period, this passage reveals the rich tapestry of rabbinic thought. It shows how our ancestors debated, interpreted, and sought meaning in the sacred texts to guide their lives. It's a reminder that our traditions are not static, but rather the product of generations of thoughtful engagement with our heritage. And isn’t that something worth mourning – and celebrating?