Tell me about your sorrow

Posted on by Live & Learn

A somewhat obscure text, about 2,000 years old, has been my unlikely teacher and guide for the past many years, and my north star these last several months, as so many of us have felt like we’re drowning in an ocean of sorrow and helplessness.

Buried deep within the Mishnah, a Jewish legal compendium from around the third century, is an ancient practice reflecting a deep understanding of the human psyche and spirit: When your heart is broken, when the specter of death visits your family, when you feel lost and alone and inclined to retreat, you show up. You entrust your pain to the community.

The text, Middot 2:2, describes a pilgrimage ritual from the time of the Second Temple. Several times each year, hundreds of thousands of Jews would ascend to Jerusalem, the center of Jewish religious and political life. They would climb the steps of the Temple Mount and enter its enormous plaza, turning to the right en masse, circling counterclockwise.

Meanwhile, the brokenhearted, the mourners (and here I would also include the lonely and the sick), would make this same ritual walk but they would turn to the left and circle in the opposite direction: every step against the current.

And each person who encountered someone in pain would look into their eyes and inquire: “What happened to you? Why does your heart ache?”

“My father died,” a person might say. “There are so many things I never got to say to him.” Or perhaps: “My partner left. I was completely blindsided.” Or: “My child is sick. We’re awaiting the test results.”

Those who walked from the right would offer a blessing: “May the Holy One comfort you,” they would say. “You are not alone.” And then they would continue to walk until the next person approached.

This timeless wisdom speaks to what it means to be human in a world of pain. This year, you walk the path of the anguished. Perhaps next year, it will be me. I hold your broken heart knowing that one day you will hold mine.

I read in this text many profound lessons, two particularly pertinent in our time, when so many of us feel that we are breaking. First, do not take your broken heart and go home. Don’t isolate. Step toward those whom you know will hold you tenderly.

And on your good days — the days when you can breathe — show up then, too. Because the very fact of seeing those who are walking against the current, people who can barely hold on, and asking, with an open heart, “Tell me about your sorrow,” may be the deepest affirmation of our humanity, even in terribly inhumane times.

It is an expression of both love and sacred responsibility to turn to another person in her moment of deepest anguish and say: Your sorrow may scare me, it may unsettle me. But I will not abandon you. I will meet your grief with relentless love.

We cannot magically fix one another’s broken hearts. But we can find each other in our most vulnerable moments and wrap each other up in a circle of care. We can humbly promise each other: I can’t take your pain away, but I can promise you won’t have to hold it alone. […]

Small, tender gestures remind us that we are not helpless, even in the face of grave human suffering. We maintain the ability, even in the dark of night, to find our way to one another. We need this, especially now. […]

We desperately need a spiritual rewiring in our time. Imagine a society in which we learn to see one another in our pain, to ask one another: What happened to you? Imagine that we hear one another’s stories, say amen to one another’s pain, and even pray for one another’s healing. I call this the amen effect: sincere, tender encounters that help us forge new spiritual and neural pathways by reminding us that our lives and our destinies are entwined. Because, ultimately, it is only by finding our way to one another that we will begin to heal.

—Sharon Brous, from “Two Lessons From an Ancient Text That Changed My Life” (NY Times, January 19, 2024)

32 thoughts on “Tell me about your sorrow”

    1. Exactly. And you’ve reminded me of this passage that I just came across:

      “Families are ingenious at teaching us how to love,” Matar said. Friendship, on the other hand, is even more curious because “it implicates you into another’s life” in a way that’s not at all fatalistic. “It has nothing to do with blood.”

      — Joumana Khatib https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.nytimes.com%2Fby%2Fjoumana-khatib&t=Njc3OTg1ZDRhYmIzYTNjYzMxNWE5MTkyMTg0MjBlNTlkMjJlODgyOSw0NDA0ZjIwYWQxNGEzZWYyN2YwNGM4NjQxYWNmNzIxNWYyZTQ3OWQ4&ts=1705695426 from “Writing Is Doomed to Fail. That’s Why Hisham Matar Loves It. https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.nytimes.com%2F2024%2F01%2F10%2Fbooks%2Fhisham-matar-my-friends.html%3Fsmid%3Dnytcore-android-share&t=M2IyYmJlZTEyMmY5MDRiNTgyZjA1ZTI0YWU3Nzc5MjI1YzQwNTgxZSw3YmFhYzY2YmJjNjhkN2YxM2MwZWEyMTcxMTU1MTM5NzgzN2ZlYzRh&ts=1705695426” (NY Times, January 10, 2024) https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/Joumana%20Khatib

      1. And – you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. That sounds negative about family, but it also implies that you love family unconditionally, at least in most cases….

  13. This is so timely, thank you!
    Death visited 3 times this week. One of them hit so hard and sudden but had to stay put together for her children.

  15. Sweet Soul, Kind Comforter, you have special circle of influence that will benefit this year from your courage. I am so happy to read your thoughts.

    Love.

  16. It would be great if we applied even a piece of caring, of seeing, and offering comfort. It’s interesting to me, when observant Muslims go on the haj – they also walk in a circle, and I believe there is an inner circle that moves counterclockwise. I’m not a Pollyanna, but the absence of empathy, understanding, and compassion has really tainted the National zeitgeist…And as beautiful as this is, i fear we’ve got a long road back to the culture of care. Didn’t mean to be a Debbie Downer – and yet, here I am.

  17. I’m so sorry, Sawsan ! Any loss is painful, l don’t know how one wraps their heart around three. But if caring and love could assuage the sorrow, then love is careening towards you..💕

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