Mo'ed Katan, Tractate Mo'ed Katan, daf (page) chaf-zayin (twenty-seven). We begin today's daf on chaf-vav amud bet (page twenty-six, side two), and we start 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 lines from the bottom. We're talking about the se'udat havra'ah (meal of consolation), the first se'udah (meal) that the friends give the avelim (mourners).
So the Gemara says, Tanu Rabbanan (the Rabbis taught): Haholech leveit ha'avel (one who goes to the mourner's house)—a person goes to the house of mourning in order to menachem (comforter) the avelim, and in order to feed him the se'udat havra'ah, the first meal. Im hayah libo gas bo; gas bo means he's friendly with the menachem. He's his friend; they have a relationship. Yevarehu (they provide him a meal): the mourners let the comforter join them for the se'udat havra'ah on al mitot kefuyot (on overturned beds). They sit with them on the floor, with the tables upside down.
Since he's their friend, they include him in the se'udah in the normal way they eat it, with the tables upside down. They're not going to take offense; they're friends, they're close. Ve'im lav (and if not)—if the person giving the first meal isn't so close to the mourner, yevarehu al mitot zekufot (on upright beds). He can have the meal with the mourners, but they put him at a regular table, rather than sitting on the floor with them. I guess the bond between the two isn't so strong, so he's going to be makpid. He says, “What, you put me on the floor over here?” And he's going to say, “I'm not sitting. You sit.” But if a person is close, then it's okay.
So the Gemara tells a story about this. Rava had a story about avelut. Al legabei (he came to him) Abba bar Marta, who was Abba bar Minyumi. He came to give him nechamah (consolation), at the time of giving out the meal. Rava put the chair they were sitting on upright. I guess he wasn't so close to this rabbi, so he didn't want to give him this se'udat havra'ah when he was sitting on the floor; he put the chair upright. Abba bar Marta turned the bed over, as if to say he was close with him.
Rava said, Kamah leit beh da'ata lehai tzurba merabbanan (how little understanding this tzurba merabbanan (young Torah scholar) has). “This young scholar has no understanding. I put it up because we're not so close, and he thinks we're close, so he's turning it over? He doesn't know what I'm doing. I'm doing it because that's the halachah (Jewish law).”
Tanu Rabbanan: Avel haholech mimmakom lemakom (a mourner traveling from place to place). Okay, what if he's a mourner and, I guess, he's traveling? How could he be traveling? He was traveling. What happened? “Like the shell game, which one, why drink?” So I don't get it. The text says, Im yachol lema'et be'isko, yema'et (if he can reduce his business, he should reduce it), ve'im lav, yegalgel imahen (and if not, he should continue along with them).
Aha, the person is traveling, and in the middle of the trip they tell him he's a mourner. So what's going to happen? If he's able to minimize his business dealings, he should minimize them, like a regular mourner. I guess that's it: in the city where he is, he should stop doing business. If he's unable to minimize his business—because he's there in that place, he won't go back there, and the business is cheap, so he'll get a deal—then he doesn't have to stop his business. Oh! So what should he do? He should do business with them. Wow, so we're letting a person do business during avelut?
There are a few interpretations here. We learned earlier that a mourner can't do business. Now we're saying that the person heard the news while he was away. He was at a show in Vegas, and they told him, “Oh, you're a mourner.” He's already at the show. It sounds like the explanation is: “All right, listen, you're there already. The show is this week; you're going to lose out.” The commentators explain, shedin zeh beholech baderech ba lehakeil ve'af be'avelut al aviv o imo (this law comes to be lenient for one traveling, even in mourning for his father or mother). They allowed him to trade with the group because he was already traveling. In mourning for other relatives, it's even more lenient, and he doesn't need to minimize his business at all.
But this is a leniency for mourning a mother or father because he was already on the road. For ordinary mourning, according to this opinion, they'll let him do regular business. Shedin zeh ba lehachmir (this law comes to be stringent). Oh, some say, no, it's coming to be stringent. What does that mean? Since he's traveling, he doesn't observe mourning as fully; he is more comforted because he's busy, because he's traveling. Therefore, they were stringent with him even in mourning for other relatives, and he's forbidden to increase his business more than a person who is sitting at home and isn't comforted. There are all different interpretations. Is it for a mother and father, or not for a mother and father?
But what's the case here? We're letting the person be lenient and work. The explanation is that he had already taken his merchandise there and had gone to the trouble of bringing it. He didn't commit a sin by going; it was permissible for him to go, because he didn't know that he would become a mourner. He didn't know he would be sitting at home and have to stop doing business. This is the law? He goes to China or something? I don't see the law. Oh, we'll have to check the law in Yoreh De'ah (section of Jewish law). We'll have to look it up. It's shin-pei—what section? Chaf-gimel. I'd like to see this law anyway.
Tanu Rabbanan. We have it in the back. Me'eimatai kofin et hamitot (from when do they overturn the mitot (beds))? When do they turn over the beds of the mourners? Misheyatza mipetach beito (from when the met (deceased person) leaves the entrance of his house). Once they take the deceased out of the front door, that's it; they start mourning and turn over the beds. Those are the words of Rabbi Eliezer. Rabbi Yehoshua says, misheyistam hagolel (from when they close the grave): when they seal the coffin, they bury him.
When they took him out of the house, Rabbi Eliezer said to them, Kefu mitoteichem (overturn your beds). Once they sealed the coffin, Rabbi Yehoshua said to them, Kefu mitoteichem. They said to him, kevar kafinu (we already overturned them), according to the elder, Rabbi Eliezer.
Tanu Rabbanan: Me'eimatai zokfin et hamitot (from when do they set the beds upright)? On Erev Shabbat (Friday), from the afternoon prayer and onward. Erev Shabbat means there is no avelut on Shabbat. So on Friday you're allowed to set the beds upright. When do they do that? From minchah (afternoon prayer) time and onward; they don't have to wait until sunset. Rabbah bar Rav Huna said, “Even so, he doesn't sit on the bed itself until it gets dark,” and Shabbat has actually begun.
On Motza'ei Shabbat (Saturday night), they return to avelut. Even if he has only one day left, he returns and turns the beds over. That means, let's say Sunday is the seventh day of mourning. Don't be lenient and say, “Well, I'm not turning the beds back over. I'm not going to ruin all the furniture for one day.” It doesn't matter. Even though Sunday is the last day of mourning, on Saturday night they have to turn all the beds upside down. You know he's getting up Sunday morning. He gets up for one hour Sunday morning; it doesn't matter.
Tanu Rabbanan: Hakofeh mitato (one who overturns his bed), lo mitato bilvad hu kofeh, ela kol mitot sheyesh lo betoch beito hu kofeh (he overturns not only his own bed, but all the beds in his house). Even if he has ten beds in ten rooms, he overturns all of them. Even if there are five brothers and one person dies, everyone overturns the beds. That means everybody has to overturn the beds in their own homes, even though they're sitting together in one house.
If there is a bed designated for kelim (vessels), they don't sleep on it, and he doesn't have to overturn it. A dargash (leather bed) is a type of table and doesn't have to be overturned; he can just set it upright on two legs and lean it against the wall. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says, “With a dargash, you loosen its straps, and it falls by itself.” The straps hold the plank on top of it. You undo the straps, and then it just falls.
What is a dargash? Let's see if Rashi explains it. What is a dargash? Ulla said, arsa degada—a type of bed over there that used to be for mazal (fortune). They used to say that gada means fortune. They used to leave a certain bed in the house that they thought brought them good luck. You don't put anything on it; it's not functional. It just stays in the house for mazal tov. So they have to undo the straps of that bed, just so it falls apart.
Rava said to him, “If that's so, then regarding a king, as it says in Sanhedrin: we learned that when a king, God forbid, becomes a mourner, everyone sits on the floor, and he sits on the dargash. So it sounds like a dargash is a chair. It doesn't sound like it's a bed for good luck. Is there something that until now they didn't seat him on, and now they seat him on it? He never sat on this bed before, and now you're putting the king on it? That's not kavod (honor).”
Now the Gemara says—what are you talking about? Rav Ashi challenges this: “What's the question? It's like eating and drinking at the meal. Until now they didn't feed him or give him drink, and now they do. That's the din (law) of the se'udah rishonah (first meal). Here we do things differently. Normally the king eats from his own food. Don't we change the way eating and drinking work during mourning? We feed the mourner from our own food. That's not normal for a king. So, too, this bed normally isn't sat on, but for shinui (change), he sits on it during mourning. What's the problem?”
Rather, here's the question. It was taught that a dargash doesn't have to be overturned; you just set it upright against the wall. If you're telling me it's just a bed for good luck, why doesn't it have to be overturned? We learned in a beraita (early rabbinic teaching) that one who overturns his bed overturns not only his own bed, but all the beds in his house. Did they distinguish between the kinds of beds—whether it's a bed for good luck or a bed for sleeping? Shouldn't he have to overturn it completely?
The Gemara says: What's the question? It's like a bed designated for vessels. What do you mean, you don't have to overturn all the beds? We said that a bed used for vessels, not designated for sleeping, doesn't have to be overturned. We learned, im haytah mitah meyuchedet lekelim, ein tzarich lechpotah (if a bed is designated for vessels, it doesn't have to be overturned). Just as you don't have to overturn the bed designated for vessels, you don't have to overturn the dargash. So the Gemara is struggling to understand the question, and keeps rejecting it.
Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says that with the dargash you loosen its straps, and it falls by itself. If you say it's this bed for good luck, why would it have straps? What straps are we talking about? There's no strap; it's a solid table. So if you tell me it has these straps, it must be something else.
When Ravin came from Eretz Yisrael (the Land of Israel), a certain rabbi told him: Rav Tachlifa bar Ma'arava was very often in the marketplace of the tanners, the leather workers. “What is a dargash?” He said, arsa detzala. It's a leather bed. You sleep on a piece of leather, and it has straps, as we said; they tie the straps against its frame. I guess this is a bed used by officers or important people, princes. They take it apart; it's a portable bed, and when they travel, they take it with them. That's what “loosen its straps” means: it has straps. You don't have to turn the thing upside down; you take off the straps and let it fall.
Or you can just put it against the wall. This one over here? Yes, there. Very good. You can see the straps on the side? You undo the straps, and the leather piece falls to the floor. Some say that's enough; some say you can put it against the wall. Fine, so it's not a bed for good luck. It's a bed of—
Again, this isn't really so relevant. Baruch Hashem, we don't really practice kefiyat hamitah (overturning the bed) today. Itmar (it was stated), or Rabbi Yirmeyah said, dargash, seirugo mitocho (its weaving is inside). The weaving where they put the mattress is on the inside of the frame, like you see in the picture. But with a regular bed, seirugah al gabah (its weaving is on top): the weaving is on the outside of the frame. One is indented and one is on the outside; that's the difference between a bed and a dargash.
Rabbi Yaakov bar Acha said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi that the law follows Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel. What does that mean? You don't have to overturn the dargash; you just have to take off the straps. Rabbi Yaakov bar Acha also said in the name of Rabbi Asi: a bed with canopy poles extending from it, you set it upright and that's enough. You have naklitei hamitah (bed canopy poles), as we learned in Masechet Sukkah (Tractate Sukkah). You have a bed with poles that go up and across, and they put a sheet over them, making it like a canopy bed. You can't turn that over; it has these poles coming out of it. It's enough to turn it on its side and put it against the wall. Did they give a picture of that bed as well? Correct.
Tanu Rabbanan: Yashen al gabei chisei (sleeping on a chair)—the mourner himself sleeps on a chair; or on an udyanei, the mortar where they crush the spices, a big one he can sit on; or on the ground. He has not fulfilled his obligation. Rabbi Yochanan said this means he hasn't fulfilled the requirement of overturning the bed. Don't think that because he sleeps on the floor, he doesn't have to turn over the beds. That's worse. Right, as they said: “I'm sleeping on the floor.” It doesn't matter; according to the law, the bed has to be turned over. One thing doesn't exempt him from the other.
Tanu Rabbanan: They sweep and sprinkle water in the mourner's house. Aha, are you allowed to clean the house of mourning? The law says you're allowed to sweep the floor in the mourner's house, and they're allowed to mezalef (sprinkle water). They used to pour water on the floor to keep the dust from coming up, and then they clean it up. I guess that's the normal way to do it. You don't want a dusty house. That's not painting or putting up wallpaper; you're cleaning the house. They wash the plates, the bowls, and the jugs. That's for the meal. At the end of the se'udah, they clean the dishes.
They don't bring the mugmar (fragrant incense). At the end of the meal, they used to bring coals with a smell on them. That's already too much, like incense after the meal. They also don't bring the besamim (spices) to the mourner's house. That looks like he's enjoying himself; adorning himself with besamim is already too much. Is that about the mourners? Who exactly can do this? It doesn't matter who does it. Maybe some say the mourners themselves, because that's considered normal practice.
Isn't there a contradiction? Bar Kappara taught that they don't say a blessing over the incense or the spices in the mourner's house. On Saturday night they need spices, so they don't say a blessing over these items. You don't make a berachah (blessing) on mugmar, because the law of besamim is you only make a berachah on besamim brought to provide a fragrance, not to get rid of a bad smell. One of the reasons they bring incense is to get rid of a smell; it's like deodorant, an air freshener. So what do you see here? It sounds like they bring it to the mourner's house, but just don't say a blessing over it. You said a second ago that you don't bring it at all.
It's not a contradiction. In the mourner's house, where the deceased person is still there, they bring the incense to get rid of the smell. Once they take the deceased person out, they're in the beit menachamin (house of comforters); there's no problem with the smell, so they don't bring incense at all. So they did bring incense while the deceased person was there, to get rid of the smell. We understand that.
The Gemara continues: They don't bring things to the mourner's house in a fancy way. When the friends have to provide the first meal right after the burial, they have to present it to him respectfully. They don't bring it on a tray or on a special serving dish. What's that? A large tray or a pot. They don't bring it in a wide vessel, but in baskets, in a very modest way. Baskets made of reeds, or made of aravah (willow). No fancy dishes, no fancy serving ware: a small basket made of willow, and they put the food in it.
I guess they did that because they didn't want to embarrass anyone. Again, I guess the first meal becomes like everything else: everybody starts outdoing the next person, serving it in important dishes, and then the poor person who doesn't have those dishes gets embarrassed. So they made a rule: everybody has to do the same thing when it comes to the first meal. You put it in these baskets, and that's it.
They don't say the mourners' blessing on Chol Hamo'ed (the intermediate festival days). When they come out of the cemetery on Chol Hamo'ed, they don't say the special blessing called the birkat avelim (mourners' blessing), but they stand in a row and comfort the mourners. We learned about that already. The mourners stand in the row, or the people stand in a row and the mourners walk by them, and they comfort them. They do that even on Chol Hamo'ed.
After the comforters have comforted them, the mourners tell them, “Okay, everyone, go home.” Normally they go home to give them the first meal and do all these other things, but on Chol Hamo'ed they tell them, “Okay, thank you very much for coming, and go home.” They don't put the bed in the middle of the street. This is also on Chol Hamo'ed. Normally, I guess, they would put the bed in the middle of the street in order to eulogize and things like that, but they don't want people to become stirred up and anguished on Chol Hamo'ed. Shelo lehargil et hahesped.
They never put a woman's coffin in the middle of the street, because of her honor. It could be that she was a niddah (menstruant) or a zavah (woman with abnormal bleeding). They didn't have boxes in the old days; they put her on a stretcher or something, and she might have dam niddah (menstrual blood) oozing out. It's not respectful, so they never put a woman in the street.
There is se'udat—That's a good question. It sounds like from here there is no se'udat havra'ah on Chol Hamo'ed. In actuality, it's worth knowing what they do on Chol Hamo'ed. Jack, you want to look on my desk for Rabbi Pinhasi's sefer? It's a good question what you do if somebody passes away on Chol Hamo'ed. It sounds like from here there is no first meal. They tell them to go home. Who gives them the meal?
The text says that after the people stand in the row to comfort the mourners, they give the mourners permission to go home immediately, and they don't need to sit with them for the first meal. But where's the first meal? How is it done? It's not done in the regular way. Rabbi Pinhasi says that instead of giving them eggs and the usual mourning food, because they're not supposed to eat that on Chol Hamo'ed, they give them a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and a piece of cake. It's a different kind of se'udah. It's not a normal meal; it's not a se'udah; they make a shinui for Chol Hamo'ed. Who's “you”? Not you—somebody.
No, we do eulogies for a talmid chacham. No, no. The whole se'udat havra'ah is on the day of the burial, because he's distressed. The point is that they make a change, so they give it to him in a different way. We'll look at it, but I just want to get to the end of the daf. We had it yesterday.
Tanu Rabbanan: barishonah hayu molichin beveit avel (at first, they would bring things to the mourner's house). This is a famous story about things getting out of hand, and then the rabbis making takanot (rabbinic enactment) to put everything back in order. It's the story of how funerals used to get out of hand. The funerals became lavish, and the rabbis had to come along and put a stop to it.
Tanu Rabbanan: At first, when they brought the first meal to the mourner's house, the rich people brought it in baskets of silver and gold. The poor people brought it in little baskets made of willow branches. The poor people were embarrassed. They enacted that everyone should bring it in willow baskets made from peeled willow, because of the honor of the poor. You see, there's an important matter here: not embarrassing the poor person. The rich person can't say, “I made my money. What are you talking about? Why should he be embarrassed? Let him do what he can afford.” Chachamim (Sages) didn't care about those arguments. The bottom line was not to embarrass the poor.
Tanu Rabbanan: At first, when they brought drinks to the mourner's house, the rich people brought them in white crystal glasses, and the poor people brought them in colored crystal glasses, which were cheaper. The poor people were embarrassed again. They enacted that everyone should serve drinks in colored glass, because of the honor of the poor.
Another story: At first, during the levayah (funeral procession), they uncovered the faces of the rich and covered the faces of the poor, because the poor had dark faces from the famine. It's like a wake. Christian thing? The face—oh, people want to see the face and get sad? Goyim (non-Jews) do that, not Jews. The Jews reveal the face? No, everything is covered. What happened was that the rich people's faces looked good, so they revealed them. But the poor people's faces were black because they died of starvation, so they covered their faces when the poor went to the funeral. The poor were embarrassed; there was a different protocol. The Gemara says they enacted that everyone's face should be covered, because of the honor of the poor.
At first, they took the rich out on a dargash. How would they take the poor out? Bikhlikhah. It's like a ladder, a piece of wood with slats, and they put the deceased on the slats. The poor were embarrassed, so they enacted that everyone should be taken out on a bikhlikhah, because of the honor of the poor.
At first, they put incense under the bodies of people who died from intestinal illness, because there was a strong smell from the body. The living people with intestinal illness were embarrassed. Wow. When they were alive, they were embarrassed because they knew that when they died, incense would be put under their bodies, like a special deodorant. So what did they do? They didn't enact that nobody should get it. They enacted that incense should be placed under everyone, because of the honor of the living people with intestinal illness, so they wouldn't be embarrassed.
At first, they would immerse vessels over the bodies of deceased menstruants. That means, let's say a woman was wearing clothes and she died while menstruating; the clothes become teme'im (ritually impure). They would immerse the vessels and clothing that menstruants had used while alive. The vessels a menstruant used while alive are also ritually impure. So they would take those vessels and immerse them. Who would they immerse them with? Rashi, top line: the vessels that they used while alive became impure through contact, because a menstruant makes a person and vessels impure through contact.
So why? I guess, what, she died while menstruating, so they take all her vessels in the house? People would come along and say, “Oh, look at this, she was menstruating.” The living menstruants were embarrassed. They said, “When I die, they're going to take all my vessels and immerse them. It's embarrassing.” So they enacted that they should immerse the vessels of all women. Wow, amazing! Every time a woman died, they would immerse all the vessels in the house. Why? Not to embarrass the living menstruants. Amazing.
At first, they immersed vessels over the bodies of zavim (man with abnormal discharge). It's the same story. A man with abnormal discharge died, and all the vessels he touched had to be immersed. Someone got embarrassed again. The living men with abnormal discharge were embarrassed, so they enacted that the vessels of everyone should be immersed, because of the honor of the living men with abnormal discharge.
At first, taking the deceased out was a greater hardship for the relatives than the death itself. Wow. The expenses for the funeral were an even bigger hardship for the family than the death. Why? Because it was very expensive. They used to give them all sorts of shrouds and all sorts of things, so they dreaded the funeral more than the death itself. The death is free. It's painful, but now they have the pressure of coming up with the money for all these expenses. It got to the point that the relatives would put the body down and run away. The families would just leave the bodies in the street and run. They abandoned the bodies. They couldn't pay for it; they couldn't deal with it. They would just leave the bodies in the street, and somebody else would take care of it.
Then Rabban Gamliel came and showed great humility himself. Amazing. Rabban Gamliel said the trend had to change. Although he was a very rich man and the nasi (president), when he died he told them to put the most simple shrouds on him and make the funeral as simple as possible. When people saw that the rich man did it, he set the trend, and everyone did it. He was taken out in linen shrouds. Linen was cheap. The people followed his example and started using linen.
Rav Pappa said, “What's the minhag (custom) today?” The custom is that people use even betzarda bar zuza, something made of hemp, a very cheap garment that costs a zuz. That's it. This is a very strong mussar (ethical lesson) from the Gemara. You see what's happening with weddings today used to happen with funerals. The Gemara tells you that funerals used to get out of hand, so the rabbis stepped in. Weddings get out of hand; apparently there should be an enactment, but again, who's listening? The person says, “It's my only daughter. I worked for my money. What are you going to tell me, to have it in some basement in Boro Park? That's not my style, not my thing. Some caterer serving slop? All my rich friends are coming; they're not going to eat this goulash in Boro Park.” The people say, “Okay, but in the old days the rabbis had power. When they made a takanah, that was it.” You need a rich person like Rabban Gamliel to set the pace.
Okay, now we have Benny's question. Benny, it's your question, you ready? You asked me about talmidei chachamim (Torah scholar)? It's coming up. They don't put the bed in the street. Rav Pappa said, “A festival does not suspend the rules for a Torah scholar.” If a Torah scholar passes away on Chol Hamo'ed, they give him the regular service: a eulogy and the regular things. They even put his bed in the public square, according to this opinion. Let the people mourn; there's no problem. All the more so on Chanukah (Festival of Dedication) and Purim (Festival of Lots). Chanukah and Purim aren't as serious as Chol Hamo'ed; of course you can do it.
This applies only when the coffin is in front of them, meaning the people are in front of the actual coffin. But if it isn't in front of them, they aren't allowed to eulogize. That means if the talmid chacham (Torah scholar) is already buried, you can't now go to the shul (synagogue) and make hespedim (eulogies). He's not there. In front of the deceased, yes; not in front of the deceased, no.
Isn't there a contradiction? Rav Kahana eulogized Rav Zevid of Nehardea in Pum Nahara on Chol Hamo'ed. He wasn't in front of him, and he still gave a eulogy. Rav Pappa said it was the yom shemuah (day of hearing news). That was the day they heard he had passed away. On the day they get the news, it's considered as if the deceased is in front of them, because there's great anguish. On the day they hear that the great rabbi passed away, that already has the status of being in front of him.
Ulla said: What is a eulogy? It's on the heart. When they used to give eulogies, they would hit themselves, bang, and make all sorts of physical gestures. Dichtiv (as it is written): “They beat their breasts.” The breast is where the heart is, so they strike it with the hand, the tipuach bayad (striking with the hand). There's another type of mourning called tipuach. That's when they hit their hands. Kilus baregel (stamping with the foot) means they bang their feet on the ground. These are all different actions they would perform during mourning to show their anguish.
Tanu Rabbanan: Someone who stamps his feet for the deceased shouldn't do it while wearing sandals, but with a shoe, mipnei hasakanah (because of the danger). What's going to happen? He could break his foot. The sandal is loose, and he might end up banging his foot on the ground. The shoe fits him better. Bang on the shoe, no problem. The sandal might fall off, and then he bangs his foot on the ground and breaks his leg. Practical advice.
Rabbi Yochanan said that once a mourner nods his head, the comforters may no longer sit with him. Sometimes the mourner wants the comforters to leave. He's already been comforted; he received consolation. When he nods his head, that's a sign that the comforters should leave. I guess it's a tircha (burden); they shouldn't be matriach (burden). Right, visiting hours are over. Up until now, right? So you shouldn't impose. Exactly. Please don't come.
Read it. What does it say? But the sandal was made out of what, wood? That's the reverse interpretation. If it's made out of leather, he says it's a problem because it's light. The person might bang his foot on the ground, hit a thorn or a rock, and hurt his leg. But if the sandal is made of wood, it's stronger, so that's a reverse interpretation. Okay, very good.
Rabbi Yochanan said that everyone has to stand in the presence of the nasi, except for a mourner and a choleh (sick person). The head of the Sanhedrin comes into the house, and everybody has to stand up. That's respect for Torah scholars and respect for the Sanhedrin. However, the mourner doesn't have to stand up, and neither does the sick person.
Rabbi Yochanan also said that everyone is told, “Sit down,” when they're standing in front of the nasi. The mourner—I'm sorry, the nasi tells everybody, “Sit.” I guess you don't sit until he tells you to sit. That's the derech eretz (proper conduct). So someone standing in front of the nasi is told, “Be seated.” But not the mourner or the sick person. If the mourner and the sick person got up, they shouldn't be told, “Sit.” I guess it's as if you're telling them, “Go back to sitting in mourning. Go back to being sick.” When a healthy person is standing and you tell him “sit,” that's fine; it means he doesn't have to stand. But when you're telling somebody who's sitting to sit, it's as if you're cursing him: “Go back to sitting; go back to mourning.” So that's not the right word to use.
Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: On the first day, a mourner is forbidden to eat his own bread. That's why we have the first meal: he gets bread from others. Rachmana (the Merciful One) said to Yichezkel (Ezekiel), “You shall not eat the bread of men.” Yichezkel had a special form of mourning in which the laws didn't apply to him. It mashma (it implies) that only Yichezkel was not able to eat other people's bread, which mashma that everybody else has to eat other people's bread.
Rabbah and Rav Yosef would exchange their meals with each other. When one of them was mourning, they would exchange meals. I guess that was the custom: Rabbah would provide the meal for Rav Yosef, and Rav Yosef would provide it for Rabbah. When each one was mourning, the other would bring him the meal.
Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: If someone dies in a city, all the people of the city are forbidden to do melachah (work) until they bury him. Wow. I guess everybody has to be involved. Rav Hamnuna came to Drometa, a certain city. He heard the sound of the shofar (ram's horn) announcing that somebody had died. He saw some people going to work. He said to them, “Let these people be beshamta (under ban), in cherem (ban) and nidui (excommunication).” “Didn't somebody die in the city? Why are you going to work?” They said to him, “There's a chevrah kadisha (burial society) in the city.” We have a chevrah kadisha, so we don't need everybody to help. We have people who take care of the job. He said to them, “If that's so, you're released from the ban.” He put them under the ban first because they were working. What kind of chutzpah (audacity) is this? Then when they told him, “What are you talking about, Rabbi? They're not doing anything wrong; the burial society takes care of it,” he released them from the ban.
You learn a lesson that answers our minhag. Today, when somebody passes away, everybody goes to work. Why? The burial society takes care of it. Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav: If somebody grieves for his deceased person yoter midai (excessively), bar minan (may it not happen to us), someone else will die. God says, “You want to cry? Okay, somebody else will die, God forbid.” A person has to accept it to a certain point. Exactly; a person has to accept it.
There was a story about a woman in the neighborhood of Rav Huna. She had seven sons, and one of them died, God forbid. She cried excessively over him. Rav Huna sent her a message: “Don't do that.” I guess he meant that after a certain period, that's enough. She didn't pay attention. He sent her another message: “If you listen, good. If not, prepare the bag for the next one.” The second one died. And what happened? They all died, God forbid. In the end, he said to her, “Prepare your own bag.” She died too.
The point is that there's no belief in—no, meaning, Bore Olam (Creator of the world) did it. She's questioning the justice system of Bore Olam. I guess a person is allowed to have anguish, but after a certain point, as you said, they have to accept it. Therefore, she was grieving excessively. We don't know exactly how excessively, but it was enough for the rabbi to tell her it wasn't proper. More than a year, maybe.
One final point: Al tivku lemet ve'al tanudu lo (Do not weep for the dead or mourn for him). What does “Do not weep for the dead” mean? Don't weep for the dead yoter midai. “And do not mourn for him” means don't eulogize him more than the shi'ur (measure) the rabbis established. What is the measure? Hakeitzad (How so)? Sheloshah yamim levechi (three days for weeping), veshiv'ah lehesped (seven days for eulogy), and usheloshim legihutz (thirty days for ironing), 30 days, fresh clothes, and haircuts. From then on, HaKadosh Baruch Hu (The Holy One, blessed is He) says, “You don't have to be more merciful than I am.” I created him; I know what I'm doing. So don't act as if you're more merciful than I am by crying and all that. That's it. You did what you had to do, and that's it. Gemara will bring more be'ezrat Hashem; we'll continue this be'ezrat Hashem.