Death Date

When I give tours of the Synagogue to our non-Jewish neighbors and curiosity seekers, I point out that the boards at the back of the sanctuary list names of the deceased and their death dates- which we know as yahrzeit. 

Yahrzeit is an amalgam of two words- “yahr” meaning “year” and “zeit” which is “time.”  I go on to explain to our guests that in Judaism we commemorate a death date and place great emphasis on it.  “People come to say special prayers on the yahrzeit of their loved one.  These prayers are so old that they predate Christianity.”

“See those tiny bulbs on the brass plaques?” I ask.  “Well, if the light is glowing that means their death date is this week.”  They grow still as they wonder about this.

What I do not explain to the visitors is the meaning of the tradition of yahrzeit and kaddish. 

Generations come and go.  Despite the epochs, we recall those who have traveled this road before us.  Gazing at scrapbooks and faded pictures we remember zayde and bubbie (grandpa and grandma).  Memories float to the surface.  Eagerly, we point them out to our families, carefully explaining who each person was along with a tale of how their lives are still interconnected with ours.  Their legacy is us.  We are the possessors of their story, their lives.  When we recall them, name our children after them, they gain definition, even in death.

On the Holy Days we sing a prayer, zochraynu l’hayyim, “Remember us for life,” we plead with God.  At the same time, we also want, or need, to be remembered by the living after we have passed.  As age brings us closer to our ultimate destination a jarring question leaps to mind: “Who will remember me?”  Will anyone name their child after me?  Will anyone say kaddish when I am dead?  Perhaps it is a kind of double death to die and be forgotten.

We believe that when a person dies their body returns to the earth but their soul, being a gift of God, survives.  If this is true, perhaps then their soul still “knows” us.  What a gift to their spirit to be remembered, still cherished!  That they have not been forgotten may be the greatest balm to their spirit. 

Believe it or not we know Moses’ yahrzeit.  We know the date of Rabbi Akiva’s death.  And we read the names of the members of our congregation each Shabbat when their yahrzeits fall that week.  The list is long.  Many names are now familiar to me.  As I read the list, I smile at some of the memories and am saddened by others.

I imagine on those Shabbatot or during the week when we have evening services and someone stands to recite kaddish, a soul is nourished.  Somewhere is the vast cosmos a soul reflects, “See? I have not been forgotten.”  And that soul rises a bit higher on the letters of the kaddish as they are enunciated by the living.

The words are the same as previous generations pronounced, yitgadal, v’yitkadash… as they praise the Eternal One.  Perhaps that too is part of the gift.  “See Lord, I left a good legacy.  They not only remember me but through me they remember You.”