Greetings, friends. (XXVIII)

Greetings, friends. Today I want to talk about bereavement, and grief.

I’m writing this on a flight to Oakland, where I have a number of things I’m hoping to do this weekend. The first is that I’m planning to go to Temple Israel in Alameda, a synagogue I have never been to, in order to attend Friday evening Shabbat services and say Kaddish for my mother.

Kaddish is one of our more ancient and ubiquitous prayers. It is recited multiple times in every organized Jewish prayer service, in a number of different forms. The final time it is said in most services, it is known as the Kaddish Yatom, the Mourners’ Kaddish.

The word Kaddish itself, comes from the Semitic root קדש, *qds, where it means “holy” or “sanctified”. The prayer’s origins stretch back almost two millennia, and unlike most modern Jewish prayers, it is written (mostly) in Aramaic.

Most times, when Kaddish is said, it is recited aloud by the Rabbi or whoever is leading the prayer, with the congregation limited to repeating back a single line in the middle, and saying “Amen” in unison when it comes up.

But when it comes time for the Mourners’ Kaddish, at the very end of the service, those who have lost a parent, sibling, spouse, or child in the past year are invited (expected?) to rise, and say the prayer aloud. An English translation might go as follows:

Exalted and sanctified be His great name!
In the world which He created, according to His will,
May He establish His kingdom
During your lifetime, and during your days,
And during the life of all of the House of Israel,
Swiftly, in the time soon to come. 
And we say: Amen.

May His great name be blessed
Forever, and for all eternity.

Blessed and praised, and glorified and exalted,
And extolled and honored, and adored and lauded
Be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He,
Above and beyond all the blessings
And hymns, praises, and consolations
That can be uttered in this world.
And we say: Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven,
And life upon us, and all Israel.
And we say: Amen.

May the One who brings peace in His highest heavens
Also grant peace to us,
To all Israel, and all those who dwell on Earth.
And we say: Amen.

It’s very strange, no? This is a prayer for the bereaved, and yet there is no mention of the deceased!

The reason is that, as with most Jewish mourning rituals, the Mourners’ Kaddish is for the mourner, not the dead.

Why, then, do we invite those mourning among us to stand and testify to the greatness of our God? The legalistic phrases — blessed and praised, and glorified AND exalted, extolled and honored, and adored AND lauded — these words hammer at our grief.

The Mourners’ Kaddish is an invitation to those experiencing great loss to peer through that grief, and, rather than dwelling on what we have lost, to find gratitude for what we have been given, however precious and brief it may have been. To praise God for all that remains to us, and for all that we might eventually find the strength to enjoy.

Unlike most of the standard prayers in Jewish liturgy — like the Shma, or the Amidah — the Kaddish is never said by a single person praying alone. It is only said when there is a minyan, a quorum of ten Jewish adults present. Having the Kaddish as the central prayer for a person in mourning prevents us from retreating into our grief. We must go out and seek solace with our community.

And then we stand upright in the midst of our community when we say it, so that others may know our grief and have the chance to offer their support, without the need for us to explain. Without us having to hash it over again.

As with the invocation Ha Lachma Anya said at Passover, the Kaddish has been recited in Aramaic, the classical vernacular of the Levant, so that everyone present could understand its meaning. This is how important it is to Jews, and Judaism, that mourners are not left alone to drown in their loss.

The final stanza, however, is in Hebrew, and if anything can bring me to tears in a synagogue, it is these words. The devastatingly poetic shorthand of the original Hebrew cannot really be translated, in my opinion. It is a kind of catechism, a basic statement of faith. We can only trust that the force which orders the heavens will find a way to bring peace to us at last.

So the phrase “to say Kaddish for [someone]” is strange in this context. Once upon a time, I think, some Jews believed that having another say Kaddish in their memory ensured a shortcut to a good afterlife.

But I rather think Judaism teaches us to focus our attention on the living. Of the deceased, we say not “rest in peace,” but zichronam liv’racha, may their memory be a blessing… that is, a blessing to those of us who are still here to share this strange gift of life. We say Kaddish not for the deceased… but for ourselves, and for each other.

This past week or two particularly, but really the last few months, have felt like a dark time of loss for many people I know.

I am thinking of you tonight, as I say Kaddish for my mother — thinking of our friends and loved ones who have recently lost parents, children, siblings, other dear ones — some quite suddenly and without warning. May their memories be a blessing to us all.

And may the One who brings peace to the highest heavens also bring peace to us, and all those who dwell on Earth. Amen.