tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78039427166464204042023-11-15T12:23:16.622-05:00My Kaddish YearThrough this blog, written during my year of saying kaddish for my mother, Hilda Yael Kessler, may her memory be for a blessing, I attempted to reflect on and find meaning about the internal as well as ritualistic processes of mourning. I hope others may identify with and find some measure of comfort in its words.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-13683672446721549622017-06-13T21:50:00.002-04:002017-08-03T21:38:05.651-04:00From Mourning to MemoryIt's been more than five and a half years since the death of my mother, Hilda Kessler, Hinda bat Chaya v'Yosef, may her memory be blessed and continue to live on. More than four and a half years have passed since I ended my official period of mourning and more than three years since I added anything to this blog. I haven't had anything to say on the topic of mourning since then. Indeed, when I look back now at this blog, it's difficult to even believe that I wrote these words. The psychic space I now occupy is so different from that which enveloped me as a mourner.<br />
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I do, however, have one more thought to add: the passage from mourning to memory. From being a mourner, with its daily kaddishes, obligations and prohibitions, to carrying on your parent's memory as you live your life. This was the subject of a talk I gave in shul on my mother's second Yahrzeit, and what follows is a summary of that talk.<br />
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In this blog, I focused on the process of mourning and dealing with loss, to record my experiences, as a form of self-therapy, as well as to give voice to others coping with the loss of a parent. I am aware that my own experiences were the product of my particular circumstances: being a man, with the privileges and religious duties Jewish law bestows on men, observing the general requirements of <i>halacha</i> (Jewish law), praying in Orthodox shuls (synagogues), and living in New York, with easy access to <i>minyanim</i> (prayer quorums). I don't presume to speak for other people's experiences. Yet I have been amazed at how similar the experiences of mourners are.<br />
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My aim here is to track the passage from mourning to memory. The mourner, in a Jewish context, experiences various stages, as if passing through a tunnel that leads from one metaphysical reality to another.<br />
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There is <i>Aninut</i>, the period between death and burial, which neither halachically nor experientially is a stage of mourning. Rather, the primary sense is shock, for no matter how ill your parent is, and how imminent his or her death, nothing prepares you for the death of a parent. The focus during this stage is planning the funeral and burial. In this regard, it is quite helpful if you had a chance, as I did, to talk to your family members about what the funeral will be like (who should speak, etc.). I began writing my eulogy a few weeks before my mother died, and put the finishing touches on it on the airplane ride that took me to California from New York on my last visit to see her. (Of course, it is another matter if you have to first start dealing with burial arrangements for your parent.)<br />
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The next stage, the shiva, are the seven days that follow burial (in reality five and a half days, because half of the first day involves the funeral and the last day ends right after the morning prayer service). <i>Shiva</i> is when you first start to realize what it means to be a Jewish mourner. You begin reciting kaddish, about ten of them every day. If you are a man and the service is orthodox, you (if you so choose) begin leading services. You begin to understand that, in a Jewish context, mourning is public, as your home, your private space, becomes transformed into a public setting where people come and go at will.<br />
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I found shiva to be tremendously comforting as well as exhausting. You have little time for yourself. This is by design. You are in a vulnerable state so soon after your parent died, so it's best not to be alone nor have to deal with family or work obligations. You feel taken care of. In a paradoxical way, though your sense of loss is raw, shiva is the easiest period of mourning. You are surrounded by those who care for you and have the chance to process and articulate what your parent meant to you. I spent much of shiva reading and rereading words my mother had written and sharing them with my friends.<br />
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Next comes <i>Shoshim</i>, the first 30 days after the burial, seven of which is subsumed by the <i>shiva</i>. <i>Shloshim</i> is when you realize that you have joined a community of mourners. As someone in shul told me, "welcome to the club." You are not first person to have lost a parent, and you usually are not the only one in shul saying kaddish. If you are a man in an Orthodox setting, you begin to get used to the idea of leading the prayer service as a "<i>chiuv</i>." You start getting familiar with the words of the kaddish and the various points of the service at which it is recited. You are just beginning to deal with the psychological and spiritual aspects of grief and loss. Your pain, while still intense, is now mixed with the return to everyday life, your work, shopping, friends, etc. From the outside you are back to your regular life, but on the inside you feel something profound has changed within you.<br />
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On a halachic level, the next ten months are considered a single unit. But not so emotionally. During the first half year, you are getting used to the overwhelming nature of the kaddish obligation and the need to plan your day around the times of prayer services. The focus on the kaddish has both positive and negative aspects. It serves to anchor your mourning, constantly reminding you of your loss and giving you a psychic space to focus how your parent's influence continues to live on within you. On the other hand, its incessant repetition can be numbing and its recitation an end in itself rather than a means to support the mourning process.<br />
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The second half of the year, in my experience, was characterized by a growing acceptance of the loss and a clearer vision of life without your parent. This division is analogous to the first and second half of <i>Tisha B'av: </i>the first half of the day is imbued with deep sadness and restrictions on pleasurable activities while, during the second half, many of the restrictions of mourning are lifted and a sense of hope begins filtering in. Time during the second half of the kaddish year seems to move quite slowly. Even though you are moving toward the end of the period of mourning, you are by this point so immersed in the kaddish year that you feel it will never end.<br />
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At the end of 11 months, your obligation to say kaddish ends, though not the restrictions of mourning. The end of kaddish feels like a shock. For 11 months kaddish and mourning were bound up together. Now, for one month, kaddish is gone but mourning remains. I experienced the end of kaddish as a relief and a release: no longer a "<i>chiuv</i>," you don't have to go to shul every day. Your time is your own again. Kaddish is recited for 11, and not 12, months because of its theurgic nature: the idea that its recitation brings merit to your parent's soul, elevates it to <i>Gan Eden </i>and that to say kaddish for the full 12 months would imply that your parent's soul was not worthy to be elevated within 11 months. Whatever one's theological beliefs, the one month gap between the end of kaddish and mourning gives you a chance to shift your focus to living both without your parent and without kaddish. You are eased out of your mourning slowly, in stages, accompanied by the return to your private self.<br />
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The culmination and final stage of mourning is the Yahrzeit, the year to the day after your parent died. It has the sense of a holy day, a sort of personal Yom Kippur, in which you confront your parent's life and death. It is a chance to get in touch with the totality of what your parent meant to you: the source of your life, the nurturing and life lessons learned, as well as the ending, all packed into one intense 24-hour period. You return to the kaddish and have priority over all others to lead the services. Different customs mark the day. Some fast. Others commemorate with a kiddush and a <i>l'chayim</i>. In addition to observing the Yahrzeit day, I have made a practice of having friends and family over to my home on the Shabbat preceding the Yahrzeit for a kiddush, to give words of Torah and to speak about my mother's life and my everlasting connection with her.<br />
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The year after your parent dies, mourning and memory are bound up with each other. Mourning is not a linear process, nor can its effects be anticipated or predicted. Feelings of loss and grief wax and wane, often unexpectedly, and without rational reason. And yet, in an overall sense, as the year gradually passes, mourning inexorably recedes, its intensity diminishes. As it does, memory of your parent begins to assume a more dominant place in your psyche. Memory comes from many places, from visitations of your parent in your dreams, from recalling their traits and what they would have said to you in various settings, in the transformation of self in which the legacy of your parent becomes metaphysically embodied within you. During shiva, S<i>hloshim</i> and the first half of the year, loss and grief predominate. As the year passes, as the Yahrzeit comes and goes, as your life continues on, mourning slowly recedes into the background while memory moves to the foreground. This metaphor is meant to suggest that mourning does not suddenly fall away the day after the Yahrzeit, but that it assumes a less significant role in your emotional life.<br />
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I have traced the process from mourning to memory as I experienced it, while recognizing that these feelings are deeply personal matters. For all those who have lost a parent, I offer the prayer that these words offer a measure of solace and acknowledgement of common experience. May we cherish the memory of our loved ones and may they continue to guide us through our individual journeys.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-2308010873191917352014-02-22T22:14:00.001-05:002017-08-31T21:16:23.302-04:00Memory: A project realized<br />
While blogging during my year of saying kaddish, I mentioned that I was engaged in a project to keep my mother's memory alive. (<a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/07/rememberence-project.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/07/rememberence-project.html</a>) The idea, as I wrote then, was to put together some kind of book of her writings in time for her first Yahrzeit (anniversary of death). Obviously, now more than two years after she died, that aim was not realized. But I have been working on this project for the past twenty months or so. Slowly it has been taking shape. Among my tasks were to go through her writings, decide what was suitable and worthwhile to be published, edit writings that were in rough form, organize the writings into categories, find a publisher, go through family photographs and old slides, review proofs, and more. Through this process, my mother continued to speak to me, and I continued to learn from her.<br />
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If you have followed this blog, then I encourage you to order a copy of this book, which is entitled "<i>Messages</i>." All proceeds from the sale will go to Bridges to Israel, the organization she and my father founded to assist victims of terror and their families in Israel. While thank God the ongoing terror of 2001-2002 has abated, the medical, psychological and economic needs of the many victims continue. Every penny from the sale of "<i>Messages</i>" will go toward this goal while helping to preserve the memory of the remarkable woman that was my mother.<br />
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To order the book, email me at <a href="mailto:misterkessler15@gmail.com">misterkessler15@gmail.com</a><br />
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-2739424097102086562014-02-22T22:11:00.000-05:002017-08-03T21:32:08.301-04:00Another visitHow much reality can a dream contain? Whether the dream I will relate is just a product of my inner thoughts or perhaps contains some aspect of metaphysical reality, I don't know. But its effect on me, as well as its lasting impact, was and always will be, real.<br />
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I dreamed that there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and in walked my mother. As is always the case when she appears in my dreams, which is not very often, I was quite surprised and overwhelmingly pleased. She looked alive and well, unlike the last few months of her life. All I recall is the following exchange we had. I told her I really enjoyed her visits. I asked her to visit me more often. I said, "I wish you would visit me every day." She responded, "I do."</div>
Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-53822573410556831512013-04-22T20:21:00.001-04:002017-08-03T21:31:51.028-04:00The Many Functions of KaddishThe following is a summary of a talk I gave in synagogue on the Shabbat preceding my mother's first Yahrzeit in her memory and honor. The talk was entitled "The Many Functions of Kaddish."<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">During the year that I recited the Kaddish after the death of my beloved
mother, Hinda Yael bat Yosef v’Chaya, may her memory always be with us, I asked
myself many questions. What was the purpose of saying Kaddish? For whom was I saying
Kaddish (myself or my mother)? How was Kaddish related to mourning? In her
honor and to help process my thoughts and feelings, I kept a blog in which I
mused about these and other questions (</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13.0pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/mykaddishyear.blogspot.com"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">mykaddishyear.blogspot.com</span></a></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Nothing in life prepares you for mourning the loss of a parent. The idea
that the person who gave you life is no longer in the world is
incomprehensible. I had nineteen months after my mother was diagnosed with
pancreatic cancer to get used to the idea, and I understood that I’d soon be a
mourner. But there is an existential divide between the “regular” world and the
one occupied by mourners. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Becoming a mourner and living without my mother was and continues to be
uncharted emotional territory. One of my mother’s many life messages was to
strive continuously for personal growth through emotional honesty, no matter
how painful the process. Before her death, she shared a series of poems with
her children, one of which, entitled “<i>Uncharted Territory</i>,”
reads: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Start anew<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">in uncharted territory<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">seek<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">the unknown coastline<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">the unrecognized terrain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">the language<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">foreign to heart and soul.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">I tremble at my task<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">I have not been endowed<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">with great strength<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">or powerful skills<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">my means are meager<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">my support in doubt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Yet persevere I must<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">to continue my journey<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">bringing forth the word<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">proclaiming:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">we are the children of prophets<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">are charged to start anew<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">fulfilling the purpose<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">given us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">To start anew in<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">grace<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">bringing forth<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">the word of words<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">guiding our path in<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">uncharted<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">territory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">In my mother’s spirit of self-assessment and her desire to live an
examined life, I have tried to map the processes of mourning her death. My blog
was a record of these experiences, a kind of self-therapy, which I invited my
readers to share.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> How then does Kaddish
relate to mourning? Kaddish is the major religious obligation associated with
mourning and its most visible sign -- but it is not synonymous with mourning.
One can mourn without saying Kaddish or, conversely, say Kaddish without truly
mourning. Mourning is the internal process of dealing with the grief, loss and
disbelief that accompany the absence of one to whom our very existence is owed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -4.5pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">What is Kaddish? Developed in the Middle Ages,
Kaddish is a prayer the recitation of which, over time, became the obligation
of mourners. This recitation is neither a biblical nor a rabbinic <i>mitzvah</i>. Rather, it is a strongly held custom. Kaddish is
not mentioned in the Talmud or the <i>Shulchan Aruch</i>.
The earliest sources, which date from the early 12<sup>th</sup> Century, discuss
Kaddish in the context of orphaned boys reciting it if they have not reached
the age of bar mitzvah, because only adults are allowed to say ברכו</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> את</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> השם המברך</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">(These sources account for the Mourner’s Kaddish’s
Hebrew appellation, </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">קדיש יתום</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">, or “Orphan’s Kaddish”). Over time, the custom
developed for a man (and, more recently, a woman) who has lost a parent to say
Kaddish for 11 months. As Kaddish contains words of <i>kedusha</i>,
it may be recited only with a <i>minyan</i>.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Saying Kaddish can, but does not necessarily, assist the mourner in
these tasks. Like any oft-repeated ritual, it can become a mindless act. (I’ve
seen mourners say Kaddish while checking their cell phones, folding their
tallit or holding a conversation.) Indeed, the nature of the Kaddish obligation
lends itself to rote behavior. While halakhically the obligation can be
fulfilled by a single Mourner’s Kaddish each day, most mourners strive to
recite every possible Kaddish, a total of eight daily, five during <i>Shacharit</i> (the morning service), two of which are <i>Kaddish D’rabbanan</i> (the Rabbi’s Kaddish), one after <i>Mincha</i>, another <i>Kaddish D’rabbanan</i>
between <i>Mincha</i> and <i>Ma’ariv</i>,
and one after <i>Ma’ariv</i>. This amounts to about
2,640 Kaddishes during the 11 months that the mourner recites Kaddish. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The incessant repetition of the Kaddish can fetishize the prayer, such
that the mourner strives so intently not to miss a Kaddish that the recitation
becomes an end in itself divorced from any sense of greater purpose. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Kaddish can and should, however, support the mourning process. Here are
some ways I found that it does.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The
eternal relationship</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. The traditional explanation of Kaddish is that its words bring merit
to the soul of the deceased. This idea is based on the following midrash: Rabbi
Akiva </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">was walking in a cemetery when he met a
naked man with thorns on his head. He discovered the man was actually dead and
had been forced to chop wood. When Akiva asked him what he did to deserve this
punishment, the man said he’d been a tax collector. Akiva wanted to help the
dead man. The man told Akiva that the only way to help was if his son were to
say <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">“</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> ברכו</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> את</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> השם המברך</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">” and the
congregation responded <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">“<span style="font-size: 17.3333px;"> יהא שמה רבא מברך לעלם ולעלמי עלמיה</span>”.
Unfortunately, the man’s son had never been circumcised nor had he learned any
Torah. Akiva prayed and fasted to open the son’s heart to Torah. God answered
his prayer and Akiva taught him Torah. The son went to shul and said “</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> ברכו</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> את</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 17px;"> השם המברך</span>”. The man then came to Akiva in a dream,
blessed Akiva, and told him that his soul had been saved from the punishment of
Gehenna.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">From this midrash comes the notion that each time you say Kaddish, you
raise the soul of your parent toward a higher level. No matter how righteous a
life he or she led, their soul is in danger of being lost to Gehenna. Reciting
Kaddish and prompting the congregation to respond </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">“יהא שמה רבא מברך לעלם ולעלמי עלמיה” </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">rescues the soul from the lower realms of the afterlife. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The power of this midrash helps explain why some take the obligation to
say Kaddish so seriously that missing a single Kaddish becomes unthinkable. Of
course, it is easy to dismiss the midrash as mere superstition. Can I really believe that my mother, whose
work as a psychologist and Israel activist helped hundreds if not thousands of
people, needs my help for her soul to achieve eternal rest? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">But there is another way of understanding the midrash. Its message is
that there is a link between the mourner’s actions and the deceased’s soul. The
bond between child and parent continues even after death. Even more so, the
midrash suggests that the relationship remains, in some respect, a two-way
street. Just as my mother’s life affected me profoundly and her life is forever
imprinted in my being, my life in some indefinable way still affects my mother.
The relationship is eternal, transcending life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Beyond these metaphysics, saying Kaddish fulfills more concrete, yet
equally important, functions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The
war against forgetting</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. Saying Kaddish regularly prevents you from forgetting what happened.
It’s easy after the first few weeks to shove aside the trauma and pain of your
parent’s death. As the saying goes, “out of sight, out of mind.” It is natural,
perhaps even human nature, to try to “move on” or “get over it.” That is how
people who have survived traumatic events continue to live functional lives. We
are blessed, or perhaps cursed, with the ability to heal from traumatic events.
And with healing comes the possibility of forgetting. But saying Kaddish every
day doesn’t allow you to forget. Kaddish is a public affirmation that you are a
mourner. Kaddish is a pronouncement, to others and to yourself: “I am a
mourner. My parent died. It happened. I cannot forget.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Something
concrete to do</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. Kaddish gives the mourner a concrete task to regularly perform. After
a tragic event, it’s natural to ask oneself, “What now?” Kaddish’s answer is:
Get up, get out of your home, get to shul and say these words for 11 months.
Not too many words, about 100. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">The words, even though they are in Aramaic, are not that difficult to
pronounce. They have rhythm that is easy to pick up. Unlike any other prayer,
the Kaddish is transliterated in most <i>siddurim</i>
(prayer books) so that you don’t even have to know how to read Hebrew to say
it. It’s the one prayer that seems to unify all Jews, no matter their
denomination. (No one is proposing to change the words of this prayer.) Kaddish
may not take away the pain of loss, but it does peg your mourning to a
specific, definable, easy-to-accomplish task.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Routines</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. Saying Kaddish creates a routine for the mourner.
You go to shul in the morning and the afternoon. Your life revolves around the
obligation to say Kaddish. Routines are beneficial to one’s mental state. There
is something comforting about knowing that you have to be at a certain place at
a certain time every day. Dealing with the death of a parent is overwhelming;
going to shul every day is much easier to deal with. Kaddish says to the
mourner: “Dealing with your parent’s loss will take time. In the meantime, get
yourself to shul and say Kaddish.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">You
are not the only mourner</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. When I started going to shul to say Kaddish, someone said to me,
“Welcome to the club.” What he meant was that, everyone will someday be in the
“club” of mourners. The mourner is not alone, but part of a community of
mourners, not one voluntarily joined, but joined nonetheless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">During the year of saying Kaddish, we mourners took turns leading the
prayers and discussed the details of our parent’s illness and death and their
effect on us. We formed powerful, often unspoken, bonds born of common grief.
These connections do not replace the severed link with our parent, but the
obligation of Kaddish does help create social outlets that offer a measure of
companionship and solace.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Connection
with community</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. Kaddish connects you to the community at a time when your natural
focus is your own grief. Being in pain is selfish by nature. It is you—not
others—who has suffered a loss. Kaddish provides a corrective message: In your
time of grief, you must be with others. Kaddish puts your own pain in a broader
context. You have to leave your house, go to shul and be with others. Indeed,
not only are you not alone, but you are also the center of attention in shul.
The mourner is considered a “</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">חיוב</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">,” that is, one with an obligation to lead prayers.
</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">As a mourner, you cannot hide</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;"> in shul. Anyone who utters Kaddish is
noticed. People come up to you to ask
you for whom you are saying Kaddish, even if you are a stranger. You meet
people. You are not alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Benefit
to the community</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. Saying Kaddish serves to remind the community that some of its members
are in pain. Indeed, this idea is so powerful that the custom has developed
that a person saying Kaddish for a parent has a </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">חיוב</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">, that is, priority to lead prayers except on joyous
days such as Shabbat and holidays. The mourner leads prayers not because of any
particular talent in this regard, but solely because his loss and pain grant
him a certain stature. God prefers the prayers of the lowly to those of the
exalted. As you represent the community in prayer, your words remind all those
assembled of the reality of death and our own mortality.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Honor
your father and mother</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. We all have an obligation to honor our parents, but that obligation
does not end with their death. True, you can no longer honor them in the same
way. But by coming to shul and saying Kaddish, you bring honor to their memory.
You are acknowledging that your relationship does not end with their death,
that you remember your parent and that your parent was and remains worthy of
your honor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Your
parent’s evidence</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. When your parent dies, you are charged with carrying on their memory.
In a sense, you take their place in the world. When you say Kaddish, you are
testifying to this fact and that their lives merited to be perpetuated through
you. Most people in shul did not know my mother. But through my daily saying of
Kaddish, they got to know me. Through my efforts to go to shul every day to say
Kaddish, I provided evidence that my mother lived a life worthy of memory and
that, through her children, she continues to live. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Keeping
hope and faith alive</span></span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">. It’s been often noted that the Kaddish does not mention death.
Moreover, it focuses not on the past, but the future. If some find that their
parent’s death ruptures their relationship with God, saying Kaddish may help
repair the breach. Kaddish speaks to the hope that God’s name will become fully
known in the world. It is a prayer for peace and better days ahead.
Sometimes saying these words in the face of death may seem incongruous, even
cruel, but the point is to keep saying them. Through the Kaddish, you are
pointed to your own post-mourning future, to the belief that the sorrow will
lift, that life will be renewed, and that the world, both heaven and earth,
will someday be redeemed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">These are some of the thoughts I developed while saying Kaddish. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">In the many years since I began attending synagogue regularly, I never gave much thought to the people saying Kaddish. But once your
parent dies, you enter into a new realm of mourning and loss. Just as the
mourner assumes a central position within the prayer community, Kaddish assumes
center stage for the mourner. It provides a meaningful, repetitive and concrete
activity that focuses the mourner on his or her loss, providing an anchor that
grounds the mourning process. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">After the year-long mourning period ends and the Kaddish experience
recedes, the mourner reenters the world of life -- but not completely. Once
you’ve encountered death, you are never quite the same. You stand somewhere
between the realms of death and life, loss and renewal, sorrow and hope. A
space all of us, eventually, will inhabit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">For myself and all mourners, I offer the prayer that, in my mother’s
words, we be allowed to<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">start anew in<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">grace<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">bringing forth<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">the word of words<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">guiding our path in<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">uncharted<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">territory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-50174843958437573222013-04-22T10:26:00.002-04:002017-08-03T21:31:20.831-04:00The eternal period of mourningLast night I attended a shiva minyan. Between Mincha and Ma'ariv the Rabbi spoke about the three periods of mourning: Shiva, the first seven days, Shloshim, the first thirty days, and the year. (There is, of course, the 11 months of kaddish, which is a sub-category of the year). As he spoke I thought to myself: there is one more period. What is that period? It's the time after the Yahrzeit. It's the long period of living without your loved one. It's the period of mourning that ends only with your own death. It's not an "official" period of mourning and maybe some would not even call it mourning. But whatever you call it, it's the the lasting period whose parameters in time and emotion are undefinable. While I am not a mourner in any halakhic sense any more, I still think about my mother, and, frankly, more now than when I was an official mourner. She's in my dreams and my heart and I still sometimes can't believe that she's not here.<br />
<br />
Once you've mourned a parent, you never go back to the psychic space you occupied beforehand. Your mourning (except for saying Yizkor four times a year) is not defined by Jewish ritual. It is yours to live with, within you, forever.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-90308912678363116162013-02-19T14:05:00.000-05:002017-08-03T21:30:30.098-04:00Kaddish and mortalityOne of the "benefits" of shul membership is the more than occasional phone call and/or email informing you of the death of a shul member or relative of a member and the shiva plans. As I belong to two shuls, I get a double dose. Part of synagogue life is confronting the reality that people around you die.<br />
<br />
Lately there have been a lot of phone calls about deaths and shivas. On Sunday I went to shul for morning minyan and counted around ten people saying kaddish. A friend is saying kaddish for his father. An elderly gentleman and long-time shul member who survived the Holocaust is saying kaddish for his wife. One is saying kaddish for an aunt who has nobody else to say kaddish for her. Last week I attended a shiva minyan of a man whose mother died and it was difficult to get a minyan because there were several other shiva minyans at the same time. As someone said at the shiva home, we had been "inundated" with shivas in the community.<br />
<br />
It's probably a good thing to be constantly reminded of death. It's easy to ignore it or pretend it doesn't exist. But that doesn't change the fact that these phone calls are about other people dying. It's not you. But here it is, having said kaddish for almost a year and yet I almost never thought to myself, "you know, some day my children (I hope) will be saying kaddish for me." That's why, in Yiddish, one's eldest son is referred to as a "<i>kaddishl</i>," literally a little kaddish, because some day that little boy (or nowadays girl as well) will be saying kaddish for his or her father and mother. I don't know when my life will end, but it will, and I just saw death up close. In my mother's last days, I saw the face of death (and it's not pretty). (See <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/09/experiencing-my-mothers-death.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/09/experiencing-my-mothers-death.html</a>)<br />
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When you're saying kaddish, your focus, as it should be, is on the person who died. It doesn't really translate into your own mortality. But isn't that the subtext of all mourners' kaddishes? That human life, unlike the divine realm, is transient and temporary. Of course, as we live our lives, we can't really think about this too much for it is a paralyzing thought whose implications are unfathomable.<br />
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Many psalms refer to the idea of being saved from a near-death experience. (E.g., 30:4: "You brought me up from Sheol (the nether-world), gave me life from those gone down to the Pit"; 86:13: "For your kindness to me is great, and you saved my soul from Sheol"). This can be taken literally as having survived an illness or accident. But maybe it can also refer to experiencing a loved one's death. In a way, completing the kaddish year is like surviving an encounter with death, not our own death, but the taking away of a person whose existence was an essential part of your world and experiencing the loss and absence brought about by death.<br />
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I survived my mother's death. But not forever.<br />
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-15319732677547517462012-12-27T12:53:00.001-05:002017-08-03T21:28:01.222-04:00Closure? No!A few days ago in shul, I was speaking to a man who recently started saying kaddish for his father. In the course of the conversation, the word "closure" came up. This word often comes up when tragic or traumatic events are referred to. I was never too comfortable with it, I think because it implies that a chapter in one's life can be "closed," like when you finish reading a book. The book is closed and you never need to reopen it. The event is over and you "move on."<br />
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If closure means "erasing" or "forgetting," then I am completely at odds with it. It doesn't imply integrating the experience into one's life, which is how I feel about the experience of mourning. My official period of mourning is over, but unofficial mourning continues and always will. I miss my mother and think about her as much as I ever did since she died. When I made Latkes for Chanuka using her recipe, I thought about her. My niece is getting married next month, and I would have had endless conversations with her about arrangements and dress and the dynamics of the occasion. And how my children are doing. And my wife. And me. And so on and so on. <br />
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There is no closure, there is only living with loss and the memories and the lessons taught and the "what would my mother have said."<br />
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I agree again with Leon Wieseltier, whose words on "closure," more eloquent than mine, I'd like to quote:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
What is happening to me now is nothing like what Americans call 'closure.' What a ludicrous notion of emotional efficiency. Americans really believe that the past is past. They do not care to know that the past soaks the present like the light of a distant star. Things that are over do not end. They come inside us, and seek sanctuary in subjectivity. And there they live on, in the consciousness of individuals and communities. . . . Closure is an ideal of forgetfulness. It is a denial of finality, insofar as finality is never final. Nothing happens once and for all. It all visits, it all returns" (<i>Kaddish</i>, p. 576).</blockquote>
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-70525557470394992392012-12-26T23:08:00.001-05:002017-08-03T21:26:18.394-04:00Turning on the musicNow that my kaddish year is over, I can go to hear music again. I've been to two concerts, which I'd bought tickets to a few months back, the Who at Madison Square Garden and Leonard Cohen at the Barclays Center. Both concerts were fantastic.<br />
<br />
New York Times music critic Jon Pareles's review of The Who concert is at <br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/16/arts/music/the-who-plays-quadrophenia-at-barclays-center.html">http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/16/arts/music/the-who-plays-quadrophenia-at-barclays-center.html. </a><br />
His spot-on review of the Leonard Cohen concert can be found at <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/22/arts/music/leonard-cohen-at-the-barclays-center.html?ref=jonpareles&_r=0">http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/22/arts/music/leonard-cohen-at-the-barclays-center.html?ref=jonpareles&_r=0</a><br />
<br />
In an earlier post, I wrote about how difficult it was to give up
live music for a year. I wondered whether hearing music could have provided moments of joy from the sadness of mourning or maybe even provided a new perspective into my feelings. <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/08/turning-off-music.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/08/turning-off-music.html </a><br />
<br />
It's not just
that going to a concert would have looked like engaging in frivolity while my
loss was still fresh. Rather, I don't think I was emotionally ready to
appreciate a live music experience. It made sense to deny myself the pleasure of music so that I could more fully embrace it
after the kaddish year ended. There is wisdom in setting aside these joyful experiences for a specific period of
time. As Kohelet (Ecclesiastes 3:4) says, "A time to weep and a time to laugh, A time to mourn and a time to dance." A time to be with one's own thoughts and feelings. The Psalms speak about a transformation of mourning to joy: "In the evening one lies down weeping, but in the morning--glad song" (Psalms 30:6) The message is: live through the evening of sorrow before experiencing the morning of joy. Don't skip to joy before fully experiencing mourning. The setting aside of music for a year is another step in the goal of ensuring that the acceptance of the death of your parent is complete.<br />
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Good live music has a way of transporting your soul to a higher place. You feel good. Fully alive. Affirmed. At one point during The Who concert, during the song "I've Had Enough," these words penetrated me: "I've had enough of living, I've had enough of dying, I've had enough of smiling, I've had enough of crying. . . ." Yes, I had enough. Of death. Of pain. Tears. I want to live again and my Kaddish Year prepared me for the re-entry into the world of the living. There's very little if any guilt associated with these thoughts. My mother, herself a serious music lover, would have been so happy to see me enjoying music again.<br />
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I end with these words from Leonard Cohen, from his incredible song "If It Be Your Will," performed at the concert I attended:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
If it be your will<br /> That a voice be true<br /> From this broken hill<br /> I will sing to you<br /> From this broken hill<br /> All your praises they shall ring<br /> If it be your will<br /> To let me sing<br /> From this broken hill<br /> All your praises they shall ring<br /> If it be your will<br /> To let me sing </blockquote>
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-27699024529923560942012-12-02T22:10:00.002-05:002019-07-14T15:38:22.057-04:00In praise of going to shulSaying kaddish means going to shul a lot. Shul can be, and often is, boring. At least I find it such. The services are pretty much the same from day to day. Still I am, and remain, a shul goer, even after my kaddish year.<br />
<br />
And why is that? Several reasons. First, I pray better at shul than I do at home. At home there are more distractions. I see my computer which reminds me of work I have to do. I see household objects from my day to day life. All this doesn't make for a spiritual atmosphere. (Praying at work, which I need to do every so often, is even more difficult.) Going to shul takes you out of your normal environment. You know you are going to shul to pray. Also, other people are there who are also praying, so your individual prayer is supported by others. I always find it moving when all the mumbling of prayer suddenly ceases and the room turns so quiet as the silent Amidah is recited. The powerful experiences I had while saying kaddish could never have happened had I prayed at home. <br />
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There are other reasons to go to shul: the Torah is read publicly and so you get more exposure to its words and messages. You get to see your friends and talk with them, see their kids and generally catch up with their lives. And you meet many different kinds of people that you wouldn't otherwise encounter. Your presence is also supporting mourners who are saying kaddish.<br />
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Finally, while shul is often quite routine, you never know what could happen. Every so often it's full of surprises. One time while I was in the middle of my kaddish year, none of the rabbis was at the Mincha/Ma'ariv service, so one of the regular congregants volunteered to give a D'var Torah between Mincha and Ma'ariv. This elderly gentleman ended up speaking about his father's experiences in World War I in Europe and the atrocities he witnessed during the German invasion of Belgium. Another time, again when no rabbinic staff was present, a retired rabbi spoke about his experiences studying under the great Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik (otherwise known as "The Rav") and related stories about the incredible nervousness he and other rabbinic candidates experienced when they had to enter the room for their Smicha (ordination) exam before the Rav. He remembered one candidate who literally passed out from anxiety.<br />
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Yesterday during the Shabbat Mincha service another event occurred in shul that I will never forget. An elderly man whom I've known for a while was called up for an Aliyah to the Torah. His son wheeled him up in a wheelchair. Before he recited the blessings for the Torah, the rabbi explained that he was observing the Yahrzeit of his mother. The 89th Yahrzeit! That's right, 89 years of marking the day of his mother's death. This man is 93 years old. His mother died when he was 4. I'd like to ask him if he actually remembers her. Even if I live to be 120, I wouldn't observe that many Yahrzeits. How moving that after all these years, his mother's memory (if that is even the right word) lives on within him. <br />
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As Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach famously said, "you never know. You just never know."<br />
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-68593867401693045382012-11-30T13:33:00.000-05:002017-08-03T21:20:04.634-04:00How quickly I forgetI don't feel I have much more to say, so I'll be updating the blog only occasionally. In any event, this morning I did get to shul. This is more than I used to do before my kaddish year. I always daven (pray) every morning and put on tephilin, but before my mother died, I prayed at home and did so quickly (15-20 minutes). Davening at home allows me an extra half hour of sleep, which is a good thing. Since I've finished saying kaddish, I've gone to shul in the morning about two to three times a week. I have, however, resorted to my "old" ways, coming in a few minutes after davening begins rather than, as during my kaddish year, five minutes before the start of prayers. (See <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/routine.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/routine.html</a>)<br />
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Today as I approached the shul, I saw a woman I know who is saying kaddish running to enter. I told her, "don't worry." She said, "I know, I have an extra two minutes." What she meant is that she knew she had another minute or two while people were reciting the sacrifices section and the "<i>Rabbi Yishamel Omer</i> (Rabbi Yishmael says)" that precedes the first kaddish of the day, the Kaddish D'rabanan. Sure enough, when I entered, that's what people were doing and the kaddish began about a minute thereafter. What I meant when I said "don't worry" is that it's okay to miss a kaddish. Why run for a kaddish. It's not the end of the world if you miss a kaddish, especially the Kaddish D'rabanan after the reading about sacrifices.<br />
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But then again, that's how I feel now. When I was saying kaddish, I also used to get anxious about getting to shul on time. Frankly, making sure I didn't miss kaddish created a lot tension and anxiety. Even though I'm less than two months removed from that time, it's difficult for me to relate to these feelings. I can't really answer this question honestly: why exactly did I take on the kaddish obligation so seriously and obsessively?<br />
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I don't know how I'll behave the next time I have to say kaddish, which, God willing, will not happen for many many years, may my father, who is doing so much better, live to 120. But if I had to bet on my own behavior, I'd put money on my doing pretty much exactly what I did for my mother.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-47070477743029906012012-11-25T22:43:00.000-05:002017-08-03T21:18:08.485-04:00Kaddish, by Ginsberg<div class="tr_bq">
I guess I did get carried away by the kaddish thing. I wanted to understand better what I was doing, so I checked out a bunch of books from the New York Public Library with the word "kaddish" in the title. There was an awful book, <i>The Mystery of the Kaddish</i>. There was Ari Goldman's <i>Living a Year of Kaddish. </i> Wieselier's <i>Kaddish</i> I had on my bookshelf for a long time before my mother died, and during my kaddish year, I eventually read it (over a nearly 10 month period) from cover to cover.</div>
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So I figured I would read (or reread?) Alan Ginsberg's poem <i>Kaddish</i>. I went through my beat phase in my early 20's, gobbling up Kerouac, Corso, even Richard Brautigan (<i>Trout Fishing in America </i>anyone?). Of course, Ginsberg was the only Jew in the bunch and he was one of those Jews who runs away from his Jewishness yet never leaves it, a religious nonbeliever, embodying some the kinds of contradictions I find both pathetic and exciting.<br />
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He wrote one of his epic poems, called <i>Kaddish</i>, about the death of his mother, Naomi. As usual for Ginsberg, it's both a bitter lament yet bittersweet elegy. He even quotes the kaddish verbatim (ashkenazi accented, of course).<br />
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I would like to share these words from the poem, which I find moving and enigmatic:<br />
<blockquote>
"Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not here for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I'm hymnless, I'm heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Thee, heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity-- </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing--to praise Thee--but death. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping--page beyond Psalm--Last change of mine and Naomi--to God's perfect Darkness--Death, stay thy phantoms!" </blockquote>
<blockquote>
(<i>Kaddish and Other Poems</i>, pp 11-12).</blockquote>
Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-66165929281032767122012-11-20T21:03:00.003-05:002017-08-03T21:16:30.375-04:00Future of this blogNow that I have completed "my kaddish year," should I continue writing? My answer is that as long as I still feel I have something to say, I will continue writing. What will I write about? There are reflections, looking back at the year, putting it into a broader perspective. There is the transition away from the state of official mourning. And there is the continuing process of mourning which doesn't just magically end just because an arbitrary date has passed. You never get over losing a parent. Somehow it becomes more integrated into your life, your new normal life.<br />
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I think I'll know when I have nothing more to say. I think it will be in the not too distant future. Not quite yet.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-40403588741018789592012-11-18T08:49:00.002-05:002017-08-03T17:16:00.330-04:00Reflections on kaddish timeDid the kaddish period go quickly? No. When I was saying kaddish, it seemed like I always would. Each day had a weight, a distinct presence. There was a sense of plodding through the obligation, day by day. (See post at at <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/02/kaddish-time.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/02/kaddish-time.html</a>)<br />
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Is eleven months is a long time? Yes, and no. Even in retrospect, the time does not feel as if it passed quickly. One of the reasons I feel relief now that the year has passed is that the year felt like such a long time.<br />
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The strange thing is that other people's kaddish years seem to pass more quickly than one's own. Many people asked me, "when is your kaddish done," and almost always seemed surprised that I had more time left in my kaddish year than they'd thought. Here's another example: a friend of mine's father died a few weeks after my mother. I remember paying her a Shiva call while I was still in Shloshim (first 30 days after burial). So I should have been able easily to figure out when her kaddish year was ending. And yet when her husband told me she was almost finished saying kaddish, I couldn't believe it. "Already?", I thought. I didn't connect her kaddish period with my own. Mine seemed slow, hers fast.<br />
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I suppose these different perceptions of time point to the heightened sense of self-awareness caused by loss. Feeling pain and loss is profoundly, yet necessarily, selfish activity. Our sense of self creates a gap between feelings of your own pain and being sensitive to these feelings in others. No matter how empathetic you are, your own personal loss hits you and affects you in a qualitatively different way than those of others.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-46783806352572904072012-11-14T22:14:00.001-05:002017-08-03T17:10:09.994-04:00Lasting Yahrzeit thoughtsAs I described in my previous post, I felt out of sorts and anxious during the Yahrzeit day. But it ended with messages that seemed to come from beyond. These came to me during the silent Mincha prayer, the last prayer during the Yahrzeit. My brother was leading the prayers from the Amud, so I was seated, in my usual spot, toward the back of the synagogue. I recited from memory the <i>Shemonah Esrei,</i> the words of the weekday prayer. My eyes were closed. The words of the prayer, as it were, scrolled through my mind. I wasn't thinking about their meaning at all. Rather, they provided a backdrop to thoughts that entered.<br />
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This is not unusual, that I am simultaneously praying and thinking of stuff. Except this time I wasn't thinking about what I'd make for dinner, or work, or things I need to do. And these thoughts did not pass through my mind like transient notions but rather were palpable images that fully impressed themselves on me, one after the other.<br />
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These thought images, three of them, came to me in the following order. The first one was of my mother kissing me. Kisses of the deepest love and appreciation. Kisses that I could almost feel on my cheek. Kisses that reminded me of kisses she'd given me, of her last kiss. Our connection and mutual love and admiration. And perhaps even kisses of thanks for saying kaddish for her, not the words of kaddish or any effect of it on her soul, but the completion of a job well done.<br />
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The second image was of childbirth. Of her birthing me. Her first born. The screams and pain (though in reality she may have been anesthetized per the birthing protocol of the '50s). Of me coming into the world. Of her first holding me. The joy of motherhood.<br />
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The third and last image was of tears. Her tears of sorrow for having to leave the world she so fully lived in, for having to leave her husband, sons, sister, friends, clients. Tears at the painfulness of death and all the goodbyes it necessitates.<br />
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Kisses, childbirth and tears. Love, life and death. It all came to me in those few minutes of prayer. Thought images so real they will stay with me, always. And then the prayer, and with it the Yahrzeit, was over.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-12923322027599775912012-11-12T14:36:00.004-05:002017-08-03T17:03:17.275-04:00Yahrzeit dayPerhaps it was because I had been thinking so much about it? Or because I believed that the day of the first anniversary of my mother's death would be so significant? Or that I would be davening (praying) from the Amud for the first time since I stopped saying kaddish? Or that my status as an <i>avel</i> (mourner) would end and I had mixed feeling about letting go? Or some combination of all of these? For whatever reason, the Yahrzeit, which began Thursday evening and ended as Shabbat came in, was very stressful, more than I thought it would be.<br />
<br />
I made sure I got to shul on time for Mincha on Thursday, which began at 4:30 p.m., so I could remind the Gabbai about the Yahrtzeit. Before the clocks had been moved back for daylight savings, I had plenty of time to get to shul from work; now there wasn't much time to spare, so I felt stressed about getting there on time.<br />
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Before the Mincha service began, I approached the Rabbi and spoke to him briefly. He spoke to me about the importance of continuing to go to shul. I told him I was doing the best I could and that I was trying to be kind to myself. He said sometimes being kind can mean pushing oneself and that if I were willing to come to to shul for my mother, how much more so to worship the living God. I wasn't prepared for this "guilt trip." Maybe he felt it was his job as a Rabbi.<br />
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After Mincha, the Rabbi spoke as usual and the mourners said their Kaddish D'rabbanan. I then assumed the position of prayer leader for the evening Ma'ariv service. Nobody announced I had Yahrzeit. I began the prayers. My Yahrzeit had officially begun.<br />
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As is the particular custom at this shul, the Gabbai banged the Bimah (stand where the Torah is read) and announced publicly "Yahrzeit!" halfway through the Aleinu prayer. The custom at the shul is that only a person who has Yahrzeit as well as anyone else in the first 30 days of mourning (Shloshim) recite the kaddish after Aleinu. I said my kaddish along with one other man. Feeling acutely self-conscious, I was actually happy to have someone saying kaddish along with me.<br />
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I then recited Psalm 23, one of the most powerful of all the psalms. It speaks about a living person coming as close to death as is humanly possible but living to tell the tale: ("though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I do not fear for you are with me"). I then recited another Mourner's Kaddish along with the other mourners. Afterwards, a few people approached me with the traditional words: "may your mother's <i>neshema</i> (soul) have an <i>aliyah</i> (elevation)."<br />
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Right after prayers, I ate something quickly and then went shopping to get food for the planned kiddush at our home on Shabbat as well as some pizza for my son's dinner. (I did not feel like doing any cooking.) The line at the kosher food store was very long and it felt as if the wait took forever. Even on normal days, I do not do well on lines, feeling anxious and antsy. When I finally got everything I needed, I walked to my car, loaded the bags and pizza into the trunk, and closed it. Then I couldn't find my keys. I had no idea what had happened to them but there was only one plausible explanation for their disappearance: I'd locked them in the trunk. So I left the car and food in the parking lot and took the bus home. I had dinner, tried to relax, waited for my wife to come home from work, got her keys, called a cab, got back to the car, found the keys buried underneath all the food, and drove back home.<br />
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I didn't sleep well that night. I was anxious about getting to shul on time the next morning. I knew I needed to give myself extra time to get to shul because, with a Yahrzeit, it would be embarrassing to come late. I got to shul on time the next morning and led the prayers as best I could, being conscious of my tendency to go too fast when I get anxious. It's difficult to describe my feelings as I prayed. Mostly I felt some kind of weight that pressed down on me. I felt both emotional and numb. When I had finished, the Rabbi gave his short d'var halacha. The mourners began to recite the Kaddish D'rabbanan. Momentarily, I forgot that I was one of them. I said the words hurriedly and caught up with the other mourners. I put away my tallis and tephilin, got to my car and went to work.<br />
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I left work early to make sure I'd get to shul in time for the afternoon Mincha prayers. My brother, who was staying with me for Shabbat, led the prayers. I was happy to sit in the back and let him fulfill our duty. I recited the Mourner's Kaddish after Mincha, conscious that it would be my last for an entire year. I sat down and tried to let myself become carried away by the joyful tune of <i>Yedid Nefesh</i>, which begins the Friday evening Shabbat service. My Yahrzeit had officially ended.<br />
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-52144173820834956492012-11-10T21:57:00.003-05:002017-08-03T16:57:31.918-04:00The day after YahrzeitThis is my first post since I completed my year of mourning. And I am so relieved. I will recount the events and feelings of the Yahrzeit in later posts. But right now I feel so unburdened! Liberated. Freed of a weight that I've carried, because I wanted to and had to. The burden that I placed on myself willingly and that was thrust upon me against my will. Free to live my life again. Ready to embrace the so-called "new normal," life without my mother, but my life, with her, in some other, indefinable, way.<br />
<br />
I do, of course, feel a sense of completion. I did it. I made it. I did my duty. I mourned, struggled, spent countless hours in shul, dreamed, reflected, even cried a bit. Could I have done more? I could have, maybe should have, learned more Torah in memory of her. I could have tried to concentrate more when I said kaddish. I could have cried more. I always felt I should be crying more, but the tears seldom came. Feelings, yes, tears, usually not. But how much more could I really have done? I don't know.<br />
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Right now, I just want, and I truly believe I have my mother's unqualified permission, to relax, listen to some music, and sleep. And I want to say to my mother, Hilda Yael Kessler, how much I appreciated her and loved her. And still do.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-36209482967224499252012-11-07T13:16:00.002-05:002017-08-03T16:56:17.011-04:00Preparing for the YahrzeitAll this week I've been thinking about Friday, the anniversary (on the Hebrew calendar) of my mother's death. I can't believe it's been a year. I've been through so much in my life since that time. I can't say it seems like just yesterday nor I can say it seems so long ago. But it doesn't feel like regular time either.<br />
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I've thought a lot about how to commemorate the date. The date is important. It's a way of marking time, like a birthday. Perhaps on that day I will feel closer than usual to my mother's soul. I really can't say how I'll feel. I know only that the day will be significant and that I need to commemorate it in a meaningful way.<br />
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I began thinking about the Yahrzeit months ago, and them more intensely after the last kaddish. The commemoration began last Shabbat when I had the Gabbai recite an "<i>El Maleh Rachamim</i>" (God who is Full of Mercy) which is a memorial prayer for the dead. It is traditional to recite this prayer on the Sabbath afternoon after the Torah reading for all those observing a Yahrzeit during the coming week. This is one of those moments that is very meaningful for the person on whose behalf the prayer is recited and not too meaningful to everyone else. A lot of congregants don't even know what is going on during this prayer and often people talk or are inattentive.<br />
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Following Mincha, I gave a talk at the synagogue in which I shared some of the ideas I've developed while writing this blog. The talk was entitled: "Kaddish and its Many Functions". I dedicated the talk to my mother and her memory.<br />
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This week I am trying to get to shul on a regular basis. I've told the Gabbai at the morning minyan about the Yahrzeit, since I will be leading the prayers that day. I will be davening the evening prayer on Thursday, the morning and afternoon prayers on Friday. I need to take off work early on Friday to allow myself to get to shul in time to daven Mincha now that the clocks have changed.<br />
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On Shabbat, I will be sponsoring the kiddush in memory of my mother at the early morning minyan where I've mostly davened this year. I plan to say a few words about my mother before kiddush. I haven't figured out exactly what I want to say, but it will be something about her life and the lessons I learned from her. Later that morning, I will be having friends over at my home for a kiddush where I will plan to give a d'var torah in her memory.<br />
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My subconscious must also be preparing for the Yahrzeit because of a dream I had a few nights ago. I kept hearing my mother's voice. (My mother's voice was very distinctive; when I think about her, I often hear her words. She also talked a lot.) I couldn't see her, I just heard her. Then I was in a room like a basement. It was dark. The ceiling was low. My mother was in a more recessed area. She was dead. There were two men who'd come to take her body out. I was crying. When I awoke, I thought about those dream tears. They were tears I haven't yet shed. Perhaps I'm still not ready to shed them in real life. I still need to do my crying in dreams.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-39497629566841314422012-11-05T10:22:00.000-05:002017-08-03T16:53:55.152-04:00The pressure is offNow that I no longer a "<i>chiuv</i>," that is, a person (a man) with an obligation to say kaddish and daven from the Amud (lead prayers), I feel more relaxed. I don't have to go to shul if I don't want to, and when I do, I don't have to get there on time.<br />
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Since kaddish requires a minyan (quorum of 10), I had to be in shul every day twice a day when I was saying kaddish. And I was regularly asked to lead prayers. No matter how many times I led the prayers, there was a certain pressure associated with this obligation. Others were watching me. My mistakes were public. I couldn't sit down and relax when the Amidah prayer was being repeated since I was responsible for repeating it. Also, as a potential prayer leader, I felt I should be in shul on time, at least a minute or so before Mincha (the afternoon prayer) and at least four or five minutes before Shacharit (the morning prayer) to give me time to put on my tallis and tephilin.<br />
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I am still trying to get to shul on a regular basis. There have only been a few days since the end of my "<i>chiuv</i>" status that I haven't davened in shul at all. But I feel much more relaxed about it. This morning I set my alarm clock for 5:45 to get to the 6:45 minyan. But when I woke up, I felt really tired. I thought about it for a couple of minutes and then decided to reset it for a half hour later and daven at home. As I write this, I feel rested. The hold that kaddish had over my life has lifted. </div>
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<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-67414348232624320182012-11-02T14:40:00.000-04:002017-08-03T16:52:52.700-04:00Missing phone callThank goodness I did not lose power or suffer any damage from Hurricane Sandy. But the event was traumatic to the region and extended family. My brother in New Jersey and in-laws in Rockland County are both without power. Schools in New York have been closed the entire week. My wife's workplace is without power and, in any event, getting there, given the public transportation situation, would be difficult.<br />
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I've lived through a number of natural and human disasters. The Loma Prieta Earthquake in the San Francisco Bay Area in 1989. The occasional New York blizzard. The September 11 attacks. Last year's hurricane, Irene. All these events had one constant: communication between myself and family, particularly my mother, to let them know I was okay. There was always the added emotional greeting when we first were able to reach each other and the sense of relief ("Thank God") that my family and I were fine.<br />
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What was missing this time was that phone call. The one of mutual reassurance. The one that cemented and renewed the family bonds. The one that ended with a smile of knowing that she was there for me and I for her. That's a lot to miss.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-46426725283845373052012-10-31T21:16:00.000-04:002017-08-03T16:52:00.214-04:00Kaddish defeats Hurricane SandyLast night I went to a Shiva home to daven Mincha and Ma'ariv. His mother died last week. The Shiva began last Wednesday and ended this morning. In between a major storm hit New York, Hurricane Sandy. By Sunday evening the weather was getting quite iffy. The winds were gusting at over 40 miles per hour. Trees were swaying. Branches were crashing down. I'd thought about going over to the Shiva home, which was only two blocks from my home, but when I looked outside, I decided to say my prayers at home. Had I still been saying kaddish I would have had a more difficult decision: whether to make sure I fulfilled my kaddish obligation or err on the side of my own personal safety. I probably would have decided (and my wife would have urged me) that my life was more important than my mother's soul.<br />
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After the service yesterday evening at the mourner's home, I asked him whether he had gotten a minyan (quorum of ten) for each prayer service. I was expecting a negative answer given the extraordinary weather. But he told me there was a minyan for every service. Such is the power of kaddish. Not even Hurricane Sandy dissuaded the faithful from making sure this man had a minyan to say kaddish during his Shiva.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-3790074159563479122012-10-31T00:19:00.002-04:002017-08-03T16:51:10.705-04:00Another Giants championship!Two nights ago I had the thrill of watching my favorite baseball team, the San Francisco Giants, win the World Series. It was their second triumph in the last three years. Before their last Series victory in 2010, I never thought I'd live to see a Giants' World Series triumph. Their previous championship season was 1954, the year before I was born. They'd come close several times, most notably in the heartbreaking World Series debacle of 2002. I figured that my life and the Giants coming out on top would not overlap.<br />
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But in 2010, they defied the odds and won the World Series. What a thrill. After Brian Wilson struck out the last Texas Ranger, I celebrated with my son in our New York home as if we were part of the crowd back in San Francisco. The entire Bay Area was swept up in Giants Fever. Even my mother, never a sports fan, couldn't resist getting caught up in the excitement. And this was in October, seven months after she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She wasn't even expected to be alive by the time October rolled around.<br />
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My mother saved for me the San Francisco Chronicle reports on the World Series. Ever thoughtful of others, she purchased gear for me, my brother and my son commemorating the victory. For me she bought a cap that reads "2010 Giants World Series Champions." Thinking about this now, it's amazing that while she was getting chemotherapy and not sure how much time she had left, she was able to think about small things that her loved ones would like.<br />
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For the last two days, I've been wearing the cap to celebrate the Giant's 2012 championship. But this cap isn't just any cat. It's like so many things I have that I owe to her thoughtfulness: the seat covers she sewed for me, the candlesticks she gave us, the dishes she helped me select, the bookshelves she helped pay for, the jewelry she gave my wife as birthday presents and, finally, the clothing she gave my wife in her last year of life because she knew she wouldn't wear them again.<br />
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The cap is one of many objects around my home that I wouldn't have but for my mother. Now that she is no longer alive, these objects take on a new meaning. A sanctification of sorts. A reminder of all she gave me, the tangible and the emotional, of the myriad small and profound connections that characterized our relationship.<br />
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Had she lived, she surely would have bought me a 2012 Giants victory cap. I'm wearing the 2010 championship cap this week to celebrate their victory and in her honor. As for purchasing this year's championship gear, I'm on my own.<br />
<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-45048352218085704792012-10-29T20:38:00.000-04:002017-08-03T16:49:12.837-04:00Mourning without kaddishI've completed the 11 months of reciting kaddish. I am no longer a "<i>chiuv</i>," that is, I no longer have an obligation to say kaddish and am not chosen to lead prayers. When the Gabbai announces before services, "is there anyone observing a Yahrzeit? . . . Shloshim? . . . A chiuv?", he no longer looks at me and I don't make eye contact with him.<br />
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On the other hand, I am still an "<i>avel</i>," that is, a person in the first year of mourning. I'm still obligated in the all laws of mourning: I'm not supposed to hear live music, attend joyful events, or wear new clothing. Thus, until the Yahrzeit, I live in an ambiguous state: mourning without kaddish.<br />
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There is more to mourning than saying kaddish, but because mourning is so identified with kaddish, it's easy to feel as if my year of mourning is already over. Kaddish is what reminds you of your parent's death. Kaddish is what announces to others that your parent died recently. Without kaddish, the sense of loss is not as intense.<br />
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The ostensible reason that kaddish ends before the year of mourning relates to the supposed effect of kaddish on the deceased's soul. (see <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/efficacy-of-kaddish.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/efficacy-of-kaddish.html</a>) You stop saying kaddish before the full 12 months because the soul is sufficiently elevated by 11 months. To continue would imply that your parent was not worthy to be elevated within 11 months. (see <a href="http://www.jewish-funeral-guide.com/tradition/kaddish-duration.htm">http://www.jewish-funeral-guide.com/tradition/kaddish-duration.htm</a>)<br />
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Perhaps there is another less profound way of looking at the early end to kaddish. It's a way of easing you out of the state of mourning. Maybe it would be too abrupt to stop saying kaddish and stop being a mourner simultaneously. And so there is a month between the end of kaddish and the Yahrzeit to think about what mourning means without the benefit of kaddish.<br />
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I am using this time to plan how I will commemorate the Yahrzeit. I am thinking about how I will incorporate my mother's life into my life. I am thinking about how I will live out the rest of my life without her earthly presence. Her absence still astonishes me. It's easier to accept now than in the days and months just after she died. But it's still difficult. I'm sure it always will be.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-28392100328794262602012-10-25T17:51:00.000-04:002017-08-03T16:44:06.838-04:00Birth and kaddish: a woman's storyOne of the "benefits" of saying kaddish is getting to know people you wouldn't have otherwise met. There's a bond that exists among kaddish sayers. You might not have much in common with them, but there is one thing you do have in common, and that one thing is what defines your life at present. When you say kaddish, you notice who else around the room is saying it. When you look at or speak to that person, there is an unspoken understanding of shared pain and sorrow.<br />
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When you are a man and there are women saying kaddish, the connection is not quite so automatic. First of all, in an Orthodox shul such as where I pray, the women are on the other side of the <i>Mechitza</i> (divider between the men's and women's section), so you are not sharing the same physical space. Depending on the layout of the shul, unless you are standing near the women's section, you may not even be aware of the presence of female mourners. In addition, only the men are being called up to lead prayers and part of the connection between (male) mourners is being in the rotation for leading prayers.<br />
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I have gotten to know some of the women saying kaddish, and I am moved to write about one in particular. She stood out because she was obviously pregnant. I thought to myself: how strange to be both a mourner and an expectant mother. How strange to be simultaneously inhabiting the worlds of death and life. To be pulled between the lost connection to your parent and toward the creation of a child. I suppose that if my wife had given birth to a child during my year of mourning, I may have experienced similar emotions. But there is something qualitatively different about having one's body literally fill up with life and feeling the emptiness of loss that a man could never experience in the same way.<br />
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A few months ago she gave birth to a boy. She named him Binyamin after her father for whom she was saying kaddish. In her <i>D'var Torah</i> (which she was kind enough to share with me) delivered at her son's <i>Brit Milah</i> (circumcision), she spoke about her newborn's name. Binyamin was also the name of the child born to the biblical Rachel who died in childbirth. Rachel named him "<i>Ben Oni</i>", usually translated as "son of my pain" or "son of my affliction." Her husband Jacob then changed the boy's name to Benyamin, which literally means "son of my right," the word "right" connoting strength. However, the word "<i>oni</i>" can also mean strength. Rachel calls him the "Son of my Strength" and Jacob affirms the name, removing the latent ambiguity of "<i>oni</i>" by calling him Binyamin.<br />
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These words affirmed both the sorrow of mourning her father and the hope represented by her newborn as well as the real yet never to be actualized connection between grandfather and child.<br />
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The recitation of kaddish itself, with its message of the future sanctification of God's name and realization of peace, presents a similar ambiguity between pain and hope. As I move toward the first Yahrzeit of my mother and beyond, I pray that her legacy will continue to live on in her children, grandchildren and beyond.<br />
<br />Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-35377523069814676762012-10-21T00:09:00.002-04:002017-08-03T15:51:56.041-04:00Cleaning the coversIn the shul where I usually daven on weekdays, there are covers. One covers the Bimah, which is where the Torah is placed when read on Monday and Thursday mornings. The other covers the Amud, or prayer stand. On this stand is placed the prayer book the prayer leader uses while leading prayers. It is in front of this stand where I've spent hours and hours leading prayers. It's become a spot I was quite familiar with, that place from which I said the prayers, both silently and out loud for the community. Often I held on to the stand, at times feeling so overwhelmed that I felt I was holding on to it for dear life.<br />
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The covers, which match, are beautiful. They are a reddish purple shade with flower-like designs on them. But they were filthy. So many hands had been on them. I could tell they hadn't been cleaned in a while.<br />
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In the beginning of his book <i>Kaddish</i>, Leon Wieseltier comments on covers:<br />
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"A red velvet cloth is thrown over the rostrum at the front of the shul, directly before the ark in which the Torah scrolls are placed. Here stands the presenter, that is, the leader of the service, that is, the mourner; and as I place my hands on this cloth, which is the color of wine, I see the traces of the hands that preceded mine. There are stains in the velvet. In places it is threadbare. This is an exquisite erosion. It is not neglect that thins these instruments. Quite the contrary. The more threadbare, the better. The thinner, the thicker" (<i>Kaddish</i>, p. 5).</blockquote>
Wieseltier may have been moved by stains, but for months I have been hoping to get the covers cleaned. In a previous post, I complained about the condition of the shul. (see <a href="http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/complaint.html">http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/05/complaint.html</a>) My mother believed in noticing everything, in paying attention to the details of our inner and outer lives. I never heard her say this, but her actions demonstrated that we are responsible for creating the physical spaces we inhabit. We are called upon to create beauty and order in this world. This was not just an obsession with cleanliness, but a philosophy that our outer world, whether they be our clothes, homes, possessions, or the way we carry ourselves, reflect our humanity.<br />
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For my own sensibility (I guess she taught me well) and to honor her, I have tried in small ways to make certain aesthetic improvements to the shul. I moved the ark slightly so that it was more centered and gave space between the Ark and the Amud (prayer stand). I purchased bookends for books the rabbis use so they wouldn't pile up.<br />
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During the high holidays, the covers on the Amud and the Bimah were replaced with white covers. The replacement during this period of the regular covers with white ones is traditional and reflects our yearning to be spiritually pure, cleansed of our sins, and to begin the new year with a fresh start. I suggested to the Rabbi and shul's Executive Director that this time be used to have the covers brought in to the dry cleaners.<br />
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Two days ago I entered the shul to find the white covers gone and the regular ones there, sparkling clean. Their presence radiated, standing out among the books and white walls. I gasped and said to myself, "Ma, look how much nicer this place is" and I felt her smile, "yes." It made my day. I was saying my prayers in a place she would have felt comfortable.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7803942716646420404.post-13289307583840024532012-10-18T23:42:00.000-04:002017-08-03T15:49:41.304-04:00Slacking off, slightlyOne of the first questions some people asked me after my last kaddish, even before I was out the door of the synagogue, was whether I intended to continue attending services. I don't "have" to anymore. The obligation to pray daily can be fulfilled by davening at home. It doesn't have to be done in a minyan (quorum of 10). Only saying kaddish does. So technically I don't need to show up to synagogue again until the day of my mother's Yahrzeit, the 24th of Cheshvan, November 9.<br />
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I wasn't sure how going to shul every day for nearly a year would effect my religious behavior in the long term. Right now I'm in the habit of attending shul regularly. I've developed bonds with some of the people with whom I pray and a level of familiarity in the shul setting as never before. So, for the most part, I've continued to go to shul to pray.<br />
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However, my priorities have changed. When I was saying kaddish, everything had to revolve around the schedule of services. Now I'm balancing shul with family and personal needs. For example, my son has music lessons in the evening that conflict with Mincha right now. When I was saying kaddish, he took the bus or I gave him car fare. Yesterday I davened at home and drove him to his lesson. A few days ago, I felt so tired that I planned on praying at home the next morning and set my alarm clock for a half hour later than I would have had I attended morning services. With the extra sleep, I felt much more rested that day. And while I still go to shul most mornings, I'm no longer nervous (even slightly frantic) about getting there on time. I'm not leading services anymore so I don't need to be there exactly when services begin.<br />
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I guess I'm returning to my old semi-lazy, late arriving, self.Chanan Kesslerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07013347369546756379noreply@blogger.com2