The practice of tearing garments at the funeral (קריעה, kriya) has developed in a fascinating manner. Throughout the Gemara the act of kriya seems more like a natural, almost spontaneous expression of loss or grief. In response to terrible news people, would rend their garments. The reality for most today is that the moment of tearing needs to be imbued with meaning because it takes place in a very limited context, not because it is a natural expression of loss.

When learning kriya, people often begin with the question of its authority – Rabbinic or Torah – a question we will address that in the third installment of the kriya essays.  But the psychology of this ritual is essential to its performance, and I am organizing this material around emotional potency rather than the typical Halakhic taxonomy. The physical act is meant to express an internal emotional state. Let’s look at one story about a particular Amora (rabbi from the Gemara) who experiences loss.  The Gemara in Moed Katan 20b tells of the tragic passing of Ameimar’s grandson. The following sugya asks some very specific legal questions about this story. We will begin with the narrative portion of the Gemara with a simple translation, intentionally maintaining the unclarified pronouns for now:

Moed Katan 20b [1] Ameimar’s grandson died. [2] He tore kriya upon him. [3] Ameimar’s son came. [4] He tore kriya in front of him. [5] He remembered that he tore kriya while sitting. [6] He stood up and tore kriya while standing.

בבלי מועד קטן דף כ ע”ב [1] אמימר שכיב ליה בר בריה. [2] קרע עילויה.  [3] אתא בריה.  [4] קרע באפיה.  [5] אידכר דמיושב קרע.  [6] קם קרע מעומד.

 

The unclarified pronoun in line four makes room for a debate between the printed Rashi¹ and Tosafot as to how this story actually unfolded. According to Rashi, Ameimar is presumed to have torn his garment three times: once upon hearing the news, once in the presence of his son and a third time when he remembered that he tore while sitting. 

Tosafot s.v. Ata take issue with this interpretation and assume that Ameimar only tore twice: once upon hearing the terrible news and then again after Ameimar’s son tore while standing and he was reminded of the rule. Tosafot ha-Rosh reads this line explicitly as the son tearing in the presence of the father. The Ritva supports Tosafot’s reading and claims that the text should read:

אתא בריה וקרע באנפיה – His son came and tore kriya in front of him

This reading clarifies that Ameimar’s son did the second tearing (of line #4).

Rabbeinu Shlomo ben ha-Yatom² has an interesting way of reading this short piece. He agrees with Rashi that Ameimar tore kriya three times but posits that each one had a slightly different meaning. The initial kriya was done because he was present at the departure of the soul from the body (See Moed Katan 25a), the second kriya was done when he saw his son, out of an abundance of pain. The third kriya was done when he remembered that both prior kriyot were done while sitting.

Rashi, Rabbeuinu Shlomo, Tosasfot, Ritva and Rosh all focus their attention on the question of who was tearing when and why. The basic fact pattern, agreed upon by all, is that Ameimar is with his grandson when the child passes, but the child’s father – Ameimar’s son – is not with them. One might imagine that Ameimar was babysitting his grandson at this moment of terrible tragedy. Thank God we live in a world in which the loss of a grandchild is very rare. In the ancient world, the loss of a baby was not as uncommon an event. 

When first encountering this short and tragic story, we may feel somewhat surprised that the focus of the Gemara and Rishonim is the technical question of whether or not Ameimar was standing when he tore his garment. This focus on what might feel to us like a relatively minor detail reflects the reality of a world in which infant mortality was simply a part of life. In addition, for some people, focusing on the Halakhic requirements can be a great comfort in a moment of overwhelming despair. It is also possible for the details of Halakha to serve as a distraction or escape from the depths of the calamity.

When there is loss, people seek direction. One of the ways to understand the Halakhic regime that flourishes around this emotionally complex time of  life is as an attempt to create order out of chaos. The first chapter of Genesis outlines a process of chaos to cosmos, of תוהו ובוהו (formless mass) to Shabbat. As we saw in the introductory essay, the loss of a human being is the undoing of the ordered world of creation. The Rabbis step in and seek to provide structure and direction in a time when all can seem out of control.

1. It is important to note now as we will continue to refer to this commentary that the standard printed “Rashi” on the page was not actually written by Rashi. The commentary of Rashi on Masechet Moed Katan has been published separately, and in some newer editions of the Bavli appears on the page with the name “רש”י מכתב יד.” Many attribute the printed Rashi to Rebbeinu Gershom, who died in 1040, though it might be more accurate to think of the text as a composite of early Ashkenazi rishonim.
2. This somewhat enigmatic figure has a commentary on Masechet Moed Katan called פירוש מסכת משקין. He lived in Southern Italy and was fluent in Arabic and Italian in addition to Hebrew and Aramaic. He quotes from Rabbeinu Gershom and is quoted by the Shibolei ha-Leket (d. C. 1280). He is believed to have lived around the time of Rashi – the second half of the 11th century. See the Rabbi Tzvi-Peretz Chayot’s introduction to the מקיצי נרדמים edition published in Berlin, 1909.