Spending three to four days every week with my 89 year-old
mother over nearly a three-month period affected my relationship
with her, as well as gave me a deeper appreciation for hospice care
and the Jewish practice of Mussar. My relationship to her became
much more intimate and, as is typical of such situations, my role
reversed to become more motherly. But even as she grew more
dependent on me and other caregivers, I gained a deeper
understanding of certain Mussar teachings as a result of our
interactions.
Mussar is a Jewish ethical and spiritual practice. Alan
Morinas, a contemporary writer and Mussar practitioner, explains
that Mussar is “a spiritual perspective and discipline of
transformative practices.” Another current writer and
practitioner, Rabbi Ira Stone, offers an important additional
understanding of Mussar, as he writes, “Critical to Salanter’s
Mussar is the idea that service to and responsibility for other
human beings is the single most important human value.”
The Mussar movement, which developed in 19th
century Eastern Europe, influenced the curricula of yeshivas,
primarily in Lithuania, under the leadership of Rabbi Yisrael Lipkin
Salanter. In addition to the Torah, Salanter and his disciplines
based their Mussar work on the writings of certain sages and rabbis
across three previous centuries. The word “mussar” means
“correction” or “instruction” and also serves as the modern
Hebrew word for “ethics.” Salanter and his disciple Rabbi Simcha
Zissel Ziv developed an integrated method and curriculum based on
readings, reflection, individual analysis of ones behavior, study
partners and service. The reflective analysis of ones character
traits, called “heshbon hanefesh,” accounting of the soul, is a
key component of Mussar practice. It involves identifying
character/personality traits that one feels need improvement. After
identifying these traits, Mussar practitioners go through a process
of daily focus and actions related to the trait being worked on that
week. I refer interested readers to the two books and websites
listed at the end of this article for more information and online
learning opportunities.
Caring for a loved one at life’s end is both a challenge and
a gift, especially if the loved one is living 100 miles away, as was
my mother. Few are prepared for the daily ups and downs, but I feel
fortunate that I had three months to accept the reality of what was
happening and that my Mussar practice was strengthened by the
experiences I had at her bedside. Using five Mussar traits that are
part of my spiritual curriculum – patience, gratitude,
loving-kindness, enthusiasm, and trust – I’ll illustrate how
ones Mussar practice takes place as part of ones daily life. These
expanded reflections and observations come from my Mussar journal,
which is part of the daily practice.
Patience
My mother endured a fairly long recovery and recuperation
after intestinal surgery. Both in the hospital and in the
rehabilitation facility she demonstrated such patience and focus on
the present moment. Patience is definitely a challenge for me.
Several times I was growing impatient because a nurse was slow in
responding, or the nutritionist didn’t follow my request for a
particular food, but when I realized that my mother wasn’t ruffled
I understood how trivial my feelings were in relation to the overall
situation. Slowing down to the pace of hospital life and learning
to appreciate each minute with her gave me a new perspective which
translated into more patience. I observed my ego occupying a place
on the sidelines, as the important things of each day centered on my
mother. It’s amazing how much more patience is possible when the
ego is not trying to run the show on a particular schedule.
Gratitude
My daily morning walk includes expressing gratitude for
specific things I witness and think about, and the six weeks my
mother was institutionalized provided me with more compelling
opportunities to express gratitude. Surviving the surgery at her
age was perhaps the most dramatic. Moreover, in the first two weeks
after the surgery, as I noticed small positive changes, I explicitly
expressed gratitude for each.
Mom thanked me nearly daily and told me how much she
appreciated me. I didn't expect or need her to say these things,
but she taught me that even with family and what may be considered
by some as familial obligations, one still expresses gratitude for
what is felt in ones heart. Even while she was in hospice care and
didn't talk very often, when she did, she would tell me how glad and
appreciative she was that I was with her.
Loving-Kindness
Because of two infections she caught in the rehabilitation
facility, she had to be readmitted to the hospital, which was a
giant step backwards. About a week and a half after her readmission
she was discharged with what the doctor called “failure to
thrive.” She could not return to the rehab facility since she was
unable to walk and was eating poorly, so the doctor suggested
hospice. Just hearing the word "hospice" alarmed me,
although I knew next to nothing about it. Little did I know how
loving and caring hospice care is.
Fortunately, a close family friend had the room and wanted
to help provide care for her in his home. From the first day to the
last, nearly five weeks later, all the hospice staff and the family
friend cared for her tenderly and lovingly. The hospice staff never
seemed hurried or impatient. Observing their behavior I learned so
much more about the calming power of loving-kindness.
In my adult relationship with my mother, I hadn’t always
felt close to her, as we shared little in common. But the time I
spent with her in those final weeks allowed my heart to expand from
a surge of feelings. I was able to tap into and share easily with
her this deeper love that I had not known was there; it flowed
freely.
Enthusiasm Changed to Trust
The first week in the home setting sparked my enthusiasm, as I
hoped that my cooking, fresh air and getting her to sit up every day
might bring recovery. My attitude must have been contagious as my
mother responded by eating a bit more. She would sit in the
wheelchair for several hours, even enjoying a “walk” around the
block, or spending several hours outside soaking up the sun’s
warmth.
Somewhere in week three her energy and desire to keep trying
lessened. She had not gained any weight and she began eating less.
I overheard her at night praying to God to “take me to You.” I
encouraged her to talk about her feelings, but it was difficult for
her to express them. I knew she didn’t want to disappoint me, so
she never admitted that she wanted to die. My enthusiasm expired
with the realization that she was slowly dying, especially after she
refused to eat in the last several days. Deeply saddened and
feeling helpless and a failure for not being able to help her gain
weight and recover, I came to realize that I had to put my trust in
God. What would be, would be. At the point I was able to put my
trust in God, I felt less helpless and somewhat comforted.
The Last Days
She slept deeply her last two days, curled slightly in a fetal
position. I sat by her most of the day, holding her hand, giving
her a foot massage, and singing and talking in her ear, hoping that
she knew I was there. During her last evening, at some point I
realized she wasn’t breathing. I knew she was dead but I remained
next to her for another two hours, not wanting to let her go yet.
As I lay there I lovingly recalled so many wonderful memories of
her, of our trips together and weekends spent together just doing
chores. The feeling of loss remains, but I also feel fortunate to
have spent so much time at her bedside, witnessing deeper changes in
my relationship to her and observing my Mussar work in practice.
References
Alan Morinas, Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path
of Mussar. Boston: Trumpeter, 2008. p.8.
Ira F. Stone, A Responsible Life: The Spiritual Path of
Mussar. New York: Aviv, 2006. p. xxii.
Mussar Institute, British Columbia. No date.
http://www.mussarinstitute.org/
Philadelphia Mussar Institute: Mussar in the Climate of
Conservative Judaism and the Teaching of Emmanuel Levinas. 2006.
http://www.phillymussar.org/stone.html
