One rainy Saturday in December I hosted thirteen diverse strangers with two things in common: Judaism and grief. The former inspired me to look to an ancient religious tradition and the latter drove me to pursue a novel pharmacological treatment. Each participant ingested 120 milligrams of MDMA and, together, we sat shiva and mourned.
This was not a traditional shiva in many ways. We were not mourning a singular person but rather a state of a people. Each participant came with their own sense of loss: loss of a sense of safety, loss of friendships, loss of a worldview. Together, we learned that one participant was mourning the loss of her cousin’s freedom and safety since he had been taken hostage by Hamas on October 7th.
I was inspired to host this event because of the work of Charley Wininger, a psychotherapist and author of Listening to Ecstasy. According to his account, with the assistance of MDMA and group support, his wife and former nurse, Shelley Wininger, was able to process the grief of her son’s death during a gathering that took place nine days after his death. Witnessing her catharsis deeply moved me. Charley’s careful protocol for the administration and facilitation of group experiences on MDMA emboldened me.
MDMA therapy is likely going to be approved by the FDA within the next year or two as a treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This follows more than forty years of research furthering our understanding of both PTSD and MDMA treatment protocols.
However, recently, an unprecedented study was published researching the effect of MDMA during trauma. On October 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists massacred 364 people at the Supernova music festival in Israel. The study examines 657 survivors of the attack, two thirds of whom reported being on various mind-altering drugs, including MDMA, at the time of the attack.
According to the researchers, “Our findings reveal that individuals who experienced the trauma while under the influence of MDMA demonstrated significantly improved intermediate outcomes compared to those who were under the influence of other substances or no substances at all.” Though the study is somewhat confounded by a survivor bias, this is a unique and groundbreaking finding that comes perhaps as a form of consolation for tremendous suffering and tragedy.
Tragedies throughout history advance our understanding of trauma and mental health. When a 6.7 magnitude earthquake struck the Los Angeles area on January 17, 1994, many residents experienced PTSD. But a study conducted by Dr. Roxane Cohen Silver, at University of California Irvine suggested that individuals who experienced the earthquake alone were more likely to develop symptoms of PTSD compared to those who were with others during the temblor. Community and solidarity help to alleviate psychological distress. It’s borne out by science, but it is not a new concept.
Despite what Tolstoy says about how families are unhappy in different ways, I find an element of grief to be universal. It is why misery loves company. Collective processing of grief is well known in many cultural traditions and many include elements of intoxication. What would a wake be without alcohol? Particularly whiskey, the Gaelic word for the water of life.
Jews, no strangers to tragedy, are well-practiced masters of expressing grief. From artwork to music to the simple act of “kvetching.” Jews have, over millennia, evolved a communitarian approach to grief in a tradition known as a “sitting shiva.” Shiva means seven, the number of days for a mourning period in which relatives gather to remember their lost loved one.
Psychedelic ceremonies and shivas have a fair amount in common. Instead of seven days, we allowed about seven hours for the administration and duration of the MDMA. During a shiva, as during many kinds of psychedelic ceremonies, it is customary to sit on the floor or on cushions. It is also a tradition in the Jewish household to cover the mirrors. Similarly, it's a well-worn adage to never look at yourself in the mirror while on psychedelics.
The course of the psychedelic shiva I hosted that rainy afternoon was profoundly healing. Here were some of the rules I adhered to.
I recommend gathering everyone to remind them of your shared intention, informing them of the following rules, and closing at the end of the journey with a shared benediction of sorts. Though it takes an organizer to gather people, our event was decentralized in structure. That may be easier with attendees who are more experienced. Organizers should encourage later integration. Integration is a process that helps cement the psychological progress of a psychedelic journey. It works by simply rehearsing the lessons from the experience the days or weeks following.
You may want to encourage participants to bring a water bottle, a blanket, or a pillow. I strongly suggest an extra layer to adjust for any fluctuation in body temperature. Eye masks can be useful to go inward and focus on an internal journey. Finally, participants should bring something to share with the rest of the group to encourage a sense of inclusion: a light snack for afterwards, a candle, etc.
Participants should also mentally prepare by setting an intention, and, for the purposes of a psychedelic shiva, that intention should focus on the loss that the participant is grieving.
We ensured all medicine was tested and pure through available reagent tests. Because this was a gathering of Jews, there was at least one doctor present.
The rules should be made clear that while supportive touching is great, it must be consensual.
Finally, we ensured the event was confidential. All attendees shall remain anonymous.
Then there is psychological safety. This was mostly accomplished due to a very selective list of participants. Everyone should share the same intention: to grieve the loss of something. All must come ready to support others as well.
The attendees were among the most diverse crowd I’ve gathered, many atheists, some orthodox, Sephardic, converts, gay, straight, nonwhite, you name it. But they all shared a love of the Jewish people, a despair at the state of affairs for Jews worldwide, and a good-faith desire to grieve.
Being on the same wavelength also means committing to the same compound in roughly similar quantities and staying within the confines of the space for the duration of the experience.
This is the most important rule to adhere to after safety. October 7th flung a lot of Jews into defensive headspace arguing and making sense of things. But with a safe container, a psychedelic shiva, should be entirely about accessing “heart space.” We are a thinking people. But the concept of shiva is a space for feeling. It is to provide a safe setting to just grieve.
A musical playlist is a great way to ensure that the evening stays guided towards the intention of the participants. One silver lining of millennia of tragedy is that Jews have on lock a fantastic songbook for mourning; from Itzhak Perlman to Fiddler on the Roof. Even the Israeli national anthem is a stirringly sad tune. Here’s a playlist to get started.
I am not a rabbi. I am not a psychotherapist. My primary qualification was that nobody else was stepping up to do this. Secondarily, I have trained with the Zendo project to trip sit, taken classes and a workshop on psychedelic therapy, read many books, and know many psychedelic psychotherapists. However, I am no expert.
If you are interested in the intersection of Judaism and psychedelics, you may want to check out books on the topic such as Exile & Ecstasy by Madison Margolin as well as her many essays on the topic. Then there’s DMT and the Soul of Prophecy by famed psychedelic researcher Rick Strassman, M.D. Finally, there’s the work of activist Aaron Genuth and the new initiative by MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies) Israel. This list is not comprehensive and it appears to be growing.
It is hard to describe the transformation that occurred on that rainy day in December when we gathered. Suffice it to say, we felt so interconnected to each other and to the past that it helps us push on, together, into the unknown.
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