To be Jewish is to ask questions. But what if you’re a rabbi, the person that others turn to for answers?
In his work as manager of Jewish care, support and rabbinic services at Gilchrist hospice care center, Rabbi Benjamin Shalva is confronted by questions of life and death on a daily basis.
His third published work, and first book of poetry, “House of Mourning: Poems of Grief, Ritual and Rising” (Kelsay Books), explores loss, solace, ritual and awe while acknowledging that none of us have all the answers.
“Something kind of crept into my life in my 40s,” says Rabbi Shalva, a Pikesville resident and father of two who was born in Milwaukee. “It was a feeling like I don’t know what advice or wisdom I have. I think I might be as full of questions as I am of answers, if not more.
“Poetry seemed to be a great place to work in that vein of, ‘I’m exploring with you as the reader. I’m curious with you, I don’t have the answers,'” he says. “That, to me, felt authentic.”
Rabbi Shalva, who is also a musician, yoga and meditation teacher, first started writing poetry daily as a response to the COVID-19 pandemic.
“The pandemic broke my heart,” he says. “Thank God, I didn’t lose anyone close to me. But honestly, it felt like a loss of innocence and hope in some ways. You’d think as a rabbi I would be ready for that or used to that, but I don’t think so. Poetry felt like it was a path to heal and do something with that energy.”
Three years ago, Rabbi Shalva, who was ordained at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, began working as a chaplain at Gilchrist. He continued writing poetry while administering to sick and dying patients and their families.
He found he was well suited to hospice work because he was “not overwhelmed by the emotional contours and terrain I am in. I am not drowning.”
Still, the fact that his head was above water didn’t mean his emotions just floated away, he says. On the contrary, Rabbi Shalva was deeply affected by what he experienced at work.
Poetry again provided a critical and cathartic means of expression.
It took four years for Rabbi Shalva to complete the 40 poems that appear in “House of Mourning.” The book is divided into four sections, and most of the poems are based on his work at Gilchrist.
“[The book is] artistically inspired by the things I’ve been encountering — a lot about sickness, death, dying, but also what happens next in terms of the living that are left behind,” he says. “How do [mourners] work with that grief, renewal, rebirth? There’s a certain kind of creative, enlivening experience to writing poetry. You can take something that is dark, troubling or painful, but when you work with it on the page you’re adding life, you’re adding creativity, you’re even adding hope. There’s an element of healing and moving on.”
Rabbi Shalva says many of his poems draw on themes of Jewish memory.
“The first part of the book is about grief and loss, being in a house of mourning, at shiva, that kind of thing,” he says. “But the second part of the book looks at Jewish memory — inherited trauma. One of the things that happens with loss is it opens a door to a lot of memory and things that maybe have been bottled up inside, so there’s a number of [poems] about the Holocaust and my time living in Israel, which was primarily during the second Intifada and when met my wife [Sara]. There’s a lot in there about peoplehood and the memories we carry as a people. Sometimes in grief, we can encounter those memories.”
Despite being a published author, Rabbi Shalva considers himself “a rookie” as far as poetry goes.
“If we’re working on our artistic crafts, we can’t skip a step in the stages of development,” he says. “I’m a 49-year-old poet, but I’m a young poet. So for me, this book of poetry is a beginning. It’s exciting that way!”
In conjunction with the release of “House of Mourning,” Rabbi Shalva will partner with local Jewish organizations to present workshops for individuals coping with grief. The workshops will include readings from the book, guided meditation and writing exercises.
For information and to purchase the book, visit benjaminshalva.com/books, kelsaybooks.com/products/house-of-mourning or amazon.com/House-Mourning-Benjamin-Shalva/dp/1639808329
A Poem from “House of Mourning”
Morning Before
for M.R.
This morning, a sliver of moon said
simply: Be careful. While the sky,
spread with a jam of sunrise, cried:
Who by water? Who by fire? You
were asleep when I visited,
wrists at your ears, folded,
elbows dancing, drawing
shapes in space. I watched you
grin, grimace, grimace again.
Tomorrow, there may
be the thinnest of slivers; still,
the sky will have its answer.
—Benjamin Shalva
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