earth shaking

This morning I paid a "shiva call;" that's "nichum aveilim" in Hebrew. That means "comforting a mourner," a person who is in the seven days of mourning, known as "shiva," from the number "sheva," seven.

She described her father's death as both expected and unexpected and shook her up.

The religious laws of "shiva" are very suited to the needs of the mourner. It begins with the ripping of ones shirt, from the neck to the heart. And then for a week, just taking a break on Shabbat, one removes him/herself from the mundane world. The mourner should be served and cared for. The visitors, comforters, shouldn't initiate conversation. The mourner is encouraged to talk about the dead person, even remembering the funny things. The mourner should talk and talk and show pictures and whatever else to explain to the visitors who and what the dead person was.

The recent shiva calls I made were to friends sitting alone, while other family members were in different places around the world. We, the visitors also weren't acquainted with the dead person, which encouraged the mourner to express more and more.

Today, as I was talking with my friend, suddenly her husband asked:
"Did you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The house shook, and the table shook. Maybe there was an earthquake."

We didn't feel anything; neither her on her low stool, nor me on the soft couch.

"It was probably an explosion from the building," she said.

And I said: "Maybe it was a heavy truck; they sometimes make the street shake."

Later I went home and turned on the computer and read the news. There had been an earthquake, centered in Jordan, felt as far as Tel Aviv, and Eli is right in the middle.