Lifecycle

This special version of the Mourner's Kaddish is said at the gravesite during a funeral
 

האבלים: יִתְגַּדַּל וְיִתְקַדַּשׁ שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא.

הקהל: אָמֵן.

האבלים: בְּעָלְמָא דִּי הוּא עָתִיד לְאִתְחַדְתָּא, וּלְאַחֲיָאה מֵתַיָּא, וּלְאַסָּקָא יַתְּהוֹן לְחַיֵּי עָלְמָא, וּלְמִבְנָא

קַרְתָּא דִּי יְרוּשְלֵם, וּלְשַׁכְלְלָא הֵיכָלֵהּ בְּגַוָּהּ, וּלְמֶעֱקַר פּוּלְחָנָא נוּכְרָאָה מִן אַרְעָה, וּלְאָתָבָא

פּוּלְחָנָא דִּי שְׁמַיָּא לְאַתְרָהּ, וְיַמְלִיך קוּדְשָׁא בְּרִיךְ הוּא בּמַלְכוּתֵה וִיקָרֵהּ, וְיַצְמַח פֻּרְקָנֵה, וִיקָרֵב

מְשִׁיחֵהּ.

הקהל: אָמֵן.

האבלים: בְּחַיֵּיכוֹן וּבְיוֹמֵיכוֹן וּבְחַיֵּי דְכָל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל, בַּעֲגָלָא וּבִזְמַן קָרִיב, וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן.

הקהל והאבלים: אָמֵן. יְהֵא שְׁמֵהּ רַבָּא מְבָרַךְ לְעָלַם וּלְעָלְמֵי עָלְמַיָּא.

האבלים: יִתְבָּרַךְ וְיִשְׁתַּבַּח וְיִתְפָּאַר וְיִתְרוֹמַם וְיִתְנַשֵּׂא וְיִתְהַדָּר וְיִתְעַלֶּה וְיִתְהַלָּל שְׁמֵהּ דְּקֻדְשָׁא, בְּרִיךְ הוּא. הקהל: אָמֵן או: בְּרִיךְ הוּא.

האבלים: לְעֵלָּא מִן כָּל בִּרְכָתָא בעשרת ימי תשובה: לְעֵלָּא וּלְעֵלָּא מִכָּל בִּרְכָתָא וְשִׁירָתָא, תֻּשְׁבְּחָתָא

וְנֶחֱמָתָא, דַּאֲמִירָן בְּעָלְמָא, וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן.

הקהל: אָמֵן.

האבלים: לפי נוסח אשכנז ונוסח אחיד:

יְהֵא שְׁלָמָא רַבָּא מִן שְׁמַיָּא, וְחַיִּים עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן.

לפי נוסח עדות המזרח:

יְהֵא שְׁלָמָא רַבָּא מִן שְׁמַיָּא, חַיִּים וְשָׂבָע וִישׁוּעָה וְנֶחָמָה וְשֵׁיזָבָא וּרְפוּאָה וּגְאֻלָּה וּסְלִיחָה וְכַפָּרָה

וְרֵיוַח וְהַצָּלָה, לָנוּ וּלְכָל עַמּוֹ יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן.

הקהל: אָמֵן.

האבלים: פוסעים שלוש פסיעות לאחור עוֹשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם בעשרת ימי תשובה: הַשָּׁלוֹם בִּמְרוֹמָיו, הוּא

לפי נוסח עדות המזרח מוסיפים: בְּרַחֲמָיו יַעֲשֶׂה שָׁלוֹם עָלֵינוּ וְעַל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְאִמְרוּ אָמֵן.

הקהל: אָמֵן.

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Broken Open by Rabbi Jay Michaelson

 

When life is full of ease, spirituality is like cotton candy—fluffy, airy, and unserious.... 

 

And then something happens. Someone gets sick, or a relationship ends. Or a pet dies, or I lose my job. Or a friend dies unexpectedly.

 

And then we go searching for meaning. Not answers necessarily... but significance, meaning. Now the self-satisfied smirk of the critic melts into something less sure of itself. What can be understood in the midst of this tragedy, about the fragility of the human condition or the impossibility of holding onto it? And what are the forms which, over the years, people like me have created to contain this grief?

 

Thus pain becomes a gate to the recovery of the spiritual tones of living. I fail; I lose; and so I grow closer to the parts of myself which feel more authentic, more connected. Spiritual paths may not be as sophisticated or arch as other ways of being. They may be mocked in the pages of the Times. But at some point, most of us find ourselves broken—and hopefully broken open.

 

It’s easy to be cynical about this sudden return to religious, spiritual, philosophical, or artistic homes long abandoned. We seem to be spiritual equivalents of fair-weather fans, clinging to a tradition or practice in our moment of need, then discarding it once again, when the moment of crisis has passed. Really, though, we are just flawed humans. To admit our inconsistency is only another necessary surrender. Fine, we are inconsistent. What do we sense to be true when we are at our weakest, our most open?

 

From: Beside Still Waters, available for download and purchase. 

For One Who Did Not Want Ritual Mourning by Jacqui Shine

How do I mark a loss that leaves no ritual trace? You imagined for yourself no mourners crowded together over the earth becoming your body, no weeping against the rising murmur of grief that holds everyone, no rending of cloth, no resisting and difficult assent to God’s perfect judgment. My body struggles to keep from standing up into your memory, my tongue to keep from blessing your name in those strange syllables. In no moment and in every moment, the rising and weeping and struggling move nonetheless through my veins, fever dreams my spirit cannot forget.

From: Beside Still Waters, available for download and purchase

Dinner Alone (After the Death of a Spouse) by Helene Armet

 

Sitting alone now
eating dinner:
tempted by the simplicity 
of an easy yogurt
the speed of a
bowl of cereal.

 

Fighting it alone now! 
Chop, slice, dice, sauté.
I learned to cook to please him, 
laying my culinary soul at his fork
sweetly blessed
by a clean plate and a kiss.

 

Moving ahead alone now 
through an odd, disorienting light,
a partial eclipse of my being,
towards an unknown destination.
Pieces of my broken life 
falling at my feet.

 

Repair this alone now.
Learn to use tools,
new tools, power tools —
any tool, really.
It would please him…
the repairs and a successful journey.

 

From: Beside Still Waters, available for download and purchase.