Rabbi Chaya Gusfield

Rabbi Chaya Gusfield, Jewish Renewal, rabbi, spiritual director, chaplain

Kaddish Musings


Filed Under: Chaplain Reflections, Grief Writings, Healing, Kaddish Musings, Prayer, Reflections on Love, Torah/Life Writings, Writings on Suicide
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Celebrating Rabbinic Ordination

This is the drash (sermon) I gave at my rabbinic ordination in January, 2006.  It is still relevant today. As I celebrate my 16th year as a rabbi, I share this with you.  The Torah portions mentioned were read in synagogues during the prior two weeks during 2021/5782.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayechi, Jacob blesses his son Joseph, by giving Joseph’s sons Maneshe and Ephraim a blessing.  He says “y’varech et hana’arim v’yikare b’hem shmi v’shem avotai avraham v’yitzchak .” (Genesis 48:16)  “Bless the young ones, may MY name be called through them and in the name of my forefathers Abraham and Isaac”

Simply stated, “May the memories of the ancestors be upon them as a blessing.”

We also see in Shmot, next week’s parashah, God says to Moses, “Ze shmi l’olam, v’zeh zichri l’dor dor.”(Exodus 3:15)   “This shall be My name forever.  This is my memorial from generation to generation.”

Once again, the name is used for a blessing.

In our tradition, we say of loved ones who have died, “Zichronam livracha” “May their memory be a blessing.”

Sometimes we say, “alav or aleha shalom”…May peace be upon him or her.

This is one of our most precious meditation practices.  When we mention the dead and stop to say zichrono livracha, or aleha shalom, we have the opportunity to continue our conversations with them, to receive blessing, and to offer them blessing, through the process of remembering them.

One day, I received an unexpected call from someone I didn’t know from New York who was trying to reach someone else at Kehilla Community Synagogue and stumbled upon my name and number in the process.  She told me that she knew my family from when I was a child.  My whole family.  And then she said, “I knew your sister Julie, zichrona livracha.” She said that they were the same age.  It made me stop.  The fact that she said her name and then followed it by zichrona livracha took my breath away.  I don’t believe I had ever heard anyone say Julie’s name with that blessing before.  I asked myself, what was the blessing that I was suppose to receive by remembering her in this moment?  I thought about it for many days.  What is the blessing?  My sister died a tragic death and for most of my life remembering her did not always feel like a blessing.  It was a difficult memory.  It brought great pain and suffering to our family.

I suspect that there may be people in your families who have died for whom remembering them wouldn’t always feel like a blessing.  And yet, our tradition asks us to remember them as a blessing EVERY TIME we mention their name.  Is this a mean trick–a way to ignore reality?  I believe it offers us an opportunity.  An opportunity for healing.

Reb Marcia invites us to see a bracha (a blessing) as the process of humbling ourselves by bending the knees (birkayim), reaching into the pool (breycha) and  experiencing the fountain of blessings as ENDLESS POSSIBILITIES.

Zichrona livracha –“may her memory be for endless possibilities”.  Whether you are the survivor of someone who experienced a tragic death, whether you have only difficult feelings about the person who died, or whether all you can remember are sweet moments, by saying zichrono livracha, we open the door to endless possibilities.  To anger, radical amazement, deep grief, a softening of the belly, the warmth of our heart, deep humility.  The key is that there are endless possibilities…The door is open to those who have died, and to our own healing process.

“Zecher tzaddik livrecha l’chayei haolam haba” “Remember this good person for a blessing for life in the world to come.”  By saying this expression when we remember someone who has departed, we send blessings to them-endless possibilities-in the world they inhabit.

We come together today in sacred community, a day filled with many brachot, many blessings.  A day that offers us endless possibilities from the deep pool of blessing.

Please join me in dipping into that pool by bringing into your heart and mind someone in your life who has died, to remember them for a blessing of endless possibilities.

The door is open to continue your conversation with them.  We may think we know what this conversation should be, but just for today, just for today, allow the conversation to arise on its own-in the quiet and sacredness of this community.

Zecher tzaddik livracha   —  May their memories bless our lives….

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Filed Under: Grief Writings, Healing, Kaddish Musings, Prayer, Reflections on Love
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A Prayer for Yarzheits (or any other ritual time of remembrance)

I remember and honor you with love and humility.

You taught me through words and deeds.

Forgive me, if I did not let that be known to you during your lifetime.

May my thoughts, words, and actions help your soul rise and soar.

I pray with all my heart that you continue to be deeply connected to all that has lived, is living, and will live.

Through this remembrance, may we all be aligned with God, God of our ancestors, and one another.

And let us say, Amen*

 

*There is no traditional prayer when lighting a yarzheit or yizkor candle. The simple prayer above was inspired by the study of the teachings of Rabbi Eliezer Papo regarding honoring our parents. I hope you can use it.  Below is a closer interpretation of that prayer.  We were especially struck by the fact that he included father-in-law, mother-in-law, etc., not often found in a prayer of remembrance like this.  Our interpretation includes all who are close.  Our dear ones.

Prayer for Yarzheit or other time of Memorial (unveiling, yizkor)

Written collaboratively by Rabbi Shalom Bochner, Rabbi Eli Cohen, Rabbi Chaya Gusfield

Inspired by the teachings found in Pele Yoetz.  Pele Yoetz is a book of Jewish Musar literature (Ethics) first published in Constantinople in 1824 by Rabbi Eliezer Papo.

Our God, God of our ancestors, may I be aligned with You. May all the good deeds that I do, whether in thought, words, or action, be received by You with compassion and with favor. May all I do be for the merit, rest, and elevation of the life force, spirit, and soul of  XXXX  (insert name of father, mother, father-in-law, mother-in-law or any of those close who have gone before.).  May it be Your will that XXX ‘s soul (any dear one’s soul) be deeply connected to all that has lived, is living, and will live, eternally bound in the bonds of all life.


Filed Under: Grief Writings, Kaddish Musings, Prayer
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A Kaddish Surprise

It’s interesting to name God, to theorize about God, to talk about God.  But it’s even more precious (and interesting) to experience God, marinate in the Presence, Feel God, and to Go Beyond the Name.  THE NAME is really all life and that which is beyond life. As Arthur Waskow says, The Name includes the colors, the frogs, the sounds, the earth, all of us, the sky, anything we can name is The Name.

Today some of us sat together in exploration of how God shows up in our life, where we have longing, and where we are right now. One word we explored was SURPRISE.  At first I thought that was an Interesting and Fun name for God.  Again, another word for God.  But then it happened.

It was Shabbat.  The services were lovely, but I was feeling a bit restless, wandering in the back so as not to disturb.  I connected with a kindred spirit and we were chatting, as people are not invited to do during prayer.  A bit rebellious, even mischievous.

Then the leader said, “Mourners Kaddish”.  I came to attention moved forward so that I was clearly standing in community and began the recitation for both of my parents, gone now 6 and 4 years, who died on the same day.

Someone ran up to me and gently put his hand on my back, giving me full attention. He recited the responses that the Kaddish calls for by those not saying Kaddish  I thought it was a close friend, someone who knew the importance of this time.  It was not.  It was someone I don’t know well at all.  I thought I would have recoiled from someone touching me at that very private/public moment.  But instead I started to cry and cry.

That was SURPRISE.

 


Filed Under: Grief Writings, Kaddish Musings
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Third Yarzheit, Four Years, Beyond Time and Space

Father, today, I “kaddish” you.

I thank you

I have no regrets

I hope you don’t either.

I drink in your art, I touch the mezzuza that was on your house for so many years

It guards our home, as you guarded me

As I fiercely guarded you

I smell your handkerchiefs

I have hope

for a deepening beyond time and space

For all my relationships with the departed to deepen

as I get closer to being one with them:

mother, sister, Elia, Allan, Bernice

Father, we give you nachas

thanks for noticing

 

 

 

 


Filed Under: Cancer Reflections, Grief Writings, Kaddish Musings
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Shalom, Eileen Hansen, our mentor, our friend

 

I am not one of the mourners.

  • I have no candle to light
  • No kaddish to recite
  • No shiva to sit

And yet the news of your death

There are no words, just the silence

Every candle I light brings memories

Images of you are woven into every Kaddish I respond to

Sitting, I speak of your aliveness, your dignity, your gentleness

Zichrona livracha, may her memory be a blessing.

 

I am not one of the mourners.

What do they call me?

Deeply touched

Changed


Filed Under: Grief Writings, Healing, Kaddish Musings, Prayer
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Unveiling: “I Grow Old, I Grow Old, I Shall Wear My Trousers Rolled”

Eleven of us stood in the rain honoring the life of my father as we unveiled his tombstone. “Esteemed Scholar, Lover of Life and Learning.” Two days earlier I had discovered a poem he wrote in his journal from T.S.Elliott:

“I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear my trousers rolled.”

It made me smile. My dad had a unique sense of humor.

As we stood in the cold and wind, bringing our hearts and minds to his life and death, I couldn’t stop thinking about how in his last few years he had on numerous occasions asked the same question: “Was I a good dad? Tell me what it was like to grow up with me as a dad.” Or the times he would arrange special outings so he could apologize for the part he thought he played in a family tragedy that no one could have prevented. Or, what I learned later, were his conversations with various counselors and friends about regrets he had about his secrets from my mother. Since my mother died, he lived a continual confession, it seemed, without a feeling of absolution.

The Jewish prayer, the Viddui (confessional), is meant to be recited by a person who is dying, or said on their behalf before they die. To help them die in peace and resolve. To help them be ready for their journey.

My dad died quickly. There were no deathbed conversations or closure. I wondered if he had been ready. I wondered if he had resolve.

As we stood around the wet tombstone with both my mother and father’s names, there were tears and haunting music. We shared memories, dad’s funny poetry, and gifts we had received from him. I offered my dad the gift of possible resolve.

The following is an interpretation of a traditional Viddui that Rabbi Rami Shapiro wrote. We recited it on his behalf. I hope his soul can now fly free.

We acknowledge before the Source of All that life and death are not in our hands.

Just as I do not choose to be born, so I do not choose to die.

May it come to pass that I be healed,

but if death is my fate, then let me accept it with dignity and the loving calm of one who knows the way of all things.

May my death be honorable, and may my life be a healing memory for those who knew me.

May my loved ones think well of me and may the memory of me bring them joy.

From all those I may have hurt, I ask forgiveness. Upon all who have hurt me, I bestow forgiveness, helping to bring together life’s loose ends and restore them to a tapestry of peace.

As a wave returns to the ocean, so I return to the Source from which I came.

Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad.

Blessed is the way of God,

the way of Life and Death,

of coming and going,

of meeting and loving.

As I was blessed with the one,

so now I am being blessed with the other.

Shalom, Shalom, Shalom.

May we all live in a way that no matter when our time comes, we can go in peace.

And let us say Amen


Filed Under: Grief Writings, Kaddish Musings, Torah/Life Writings
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Last Kaddish, Vayishlach, and the Thanksgiving Minyan

Read on the morning of Thanksgiving at Morning Minyan, the week of Vayishlach at Temple Beth Abraham, 2015

Today is the last day I say Kaddish for you, my father, during this year of my mourning. The year you closed your eyes forever.

Although this marks the end of this part of our journey together, it is the beginning of integrating your life into mine in ways I cannot yet imagine.

It is Thanksgiving, the Thanksgiving of Vayishlach where Ya’akov’s journey can teach us something about integration and transformation through noticing that loss and struggle are key components to Ya’akov’s healing.

We are with Ya’akov when he sends messengers, vayishlach malachim, to his estranged brother Esav in an effort to repair the relationship, to make amends. We experience the transformation of Ya’akov through struggle, fear, place, injury, blessing, name and eventually through taking a different path from Esav and from letting go.

Father, it is a day of gratitude for your life, for the life and gifts you gave me, and the experience of family I continue to have. It is a day of Thanksgiving for sending messengers, malachim, this minyan, this family, to me. These malachim have guided me and sent me on my healing journey, accepted me with love and shared their joy, even when I was slow to show up in return, dragging my feet in grief at times. These malachim sent me on my path towards transformation through their blessing of presence.

How appropriate that today is the Torah where we learn of the loss of Deborah, Rivka’s nurse, who was buried under the Oak of weeping, Alon Bachoot. Where Rachel dies in childbirth and is buried on the road to Ephrat, and Yitzchak dies and is buried by his sons, Ya’akov and Esav, who twice took separate paths and now are reunited as family in their shared grief.

And yet, even with the struggle, fear and injury, even with all the loss and grief and weeping in today’s Torah, we end our parasha with the list of the generations of Esav to follow. We are reminded that death is a part of the natural order and that life, families and generations continue forever.

And for this, let us say, AMEN