This Friday, the 8th of Iyar, marks the 9th anniversary of my father’s passing.  I would like to share a few words about my father and a few fascinating customs the Jewish people have when it comes to death and remembering those who are no longer with us.  My father was a man of very few words.  He was also one who always expected the worst to happen in every circumstance.  If he given a glass of ice water which was 90% full, he would point out it was 10% empty.  He was also not the most observant person.  However, he never put on a facade, a fake front or tried to convince people he was something he was not.  To his credit, the way he lived and how he interacted with people was honesty, logical realism mixed with understanding.  In today’s world, perception is everything.  Most people are concerned about posting the perfect picture to Facebook or saying the latest “cool” thing to get the most followers on Instagram.  This did not interest my father in the slightest.  Another accolade my father was known for which I miss greatly was his wisdom and advice.  When approached with extremely complex issues which had multifaceted layers, he would listen to the problem, ask pinpointed questions and effortlessly come up with actionable solutions.  Much has changed in my life over the last nine years, and there are many personal topics I would love to discuss with him.  He had the ability to tell me what I needed to hear in a manner only he could deliver.

After his heart attack, he never fully recovered.  He was literally schlepped by my mom to hundreds of doctor appointments over the remaining two and a half years of his life. Eventually, he was cleared to travel in a car, which is when my parents went to the Hebrew cemetery in Peoria to purchase plots.  My father always liked the shade, and he wanted to be buried underneath a tree.  He found one not too far inside the cemetery gates which he really liked. I do not think he fully understood how important trees are in Judaism, but they are paramount.  The Torah is called an “Yeitz Chaim,” which literally means “a tree of life” (Proverbs 3:18).  It also refers to those who live a holy lifestyle as “fruit of the righteous” (Proverbs 11:30).  In fact, trees are so important, even in war, all effort should be made to preserve them, especially trees which yield fruit (Deuteronomy 20:19).

Even though he might not have been the most observant person, his sense of Jewish identity was very, very important even though he never discussed it openly.  This became apparent quickly after he was sick and knew his time was limited.  My father insisted and made it absolutely clear his funeral was to be 100% in accordance with Jewish customs and Halacha (Jewish law) in every regard – the tahara (washing the body), the casket, the ceremony, the tombstone, the shrouds, which direction his body faced – literally every component.  He also expressed to me on many, many occasions how important it was to him for me to say Kaddish (a prayer direct family members recited after the death of a loved one).

Even though he knew Kaddish was important, I do not think he understood the fascinating intricacies and mystical symbolism of this Aramaic prayer.  There is no mention of death, and it is referred to as a prayer for the living.  How can this be called a prayer for the living if it is only received after someone dies?  The answer is simple.  While it honors the dead, it upholds the living by reaffirming who we are individually and our faith in Hashem’s master plan.  Every Jewish person knows personal pain.  Every Jewish person knows loss.  After the death of a loved one, sometimes under the most abrupt and horrific of circumstances, everything we thought we knew suddenly is questioned.  Everything we could see with crystal clear precision is suddenly murky.  The Kaddish prayer reaffirms even under the most difficult times in our life, the death of a loved one, Hashem and the Torah will always be there to comfort us.  While Judaism is a religion which values life above almost all else, it is also clear we will not live forever.  We are only on this planet for a finite amount of time.  Yet, when our time to leave this Earth comes, we can take comfort knowing this moment has been personally handpicked by Hashem.  In fact, King Solomon says, “The day of death is greater than the day of birth. It is better to go to a house of mourning, than a house of feasting” (Ecclesiastes 7:1-2).  But on a more practical level, people who are no longer with us cannot perform good deeds, give money to tzedakah (charity), or take part in any earthly activities, so saying a prayer for someone in this state would be in vain.

Putting this aside for a moment, the hidden beauty of this prayer comes to light.  While saying Kaddish, there are ten words of praise to Hashem.  The number ten has many mystical significances in Judaism and is often used when describing completion.  The universe was created through ten utterances.  Ten men complete a minyan (quorum). After the Egyptians experienced the 10th and final plague, their sprit was completely broken.  When Hashem told Abraham he was going to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham begged Hashem to save the city.  After much dialogue, Hashem agreed to completely save the city if he could find ten righteous people.  I would also suggest the greatest set of laws and values in history which has shaped civilized society is the Ten Commandments (which subsequently yields all 613).  The number ten in Kaddish is not an accident.

The Kaddish also begins with the four words Yitgadal v’yitkadash shmei rabbah (“Exalted and sanctified be His great Name”). These four words parallel the four letters of Hashem’s holiest name. This is one reason we respond “Amen” after only four words. The main part of the response to the Kaddish is the line: Yihai shmai Rabat m’vorach, l’olam u’olmai umayah (“May his great name be blessed forever, eternally”). This phrase contains seven words and 28 letters. The very first verse of the Torah, Bereishit bara Elokim et hashamayim v’et ha’aretz (“In the beginning G‑d created the heaven and the earth”) (Genesis 1:1), also contains seven words and 28 letters. In addition, the introductory line to the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1), Vayadabair Elokim et kol hadevarim ha’elah, laimor (“And G‑d spoke all these words, saying”), also contains seven words and 28 letters.  This indicates the living have a role to play in perfecting Creation.

Another fascinating custom the Jewish people have honoring those who are no longer with us is lighting a candle.  We light candles for the start of Shabbat, we light a candle to end Shabbat, we light candles for every major holiday, we light 44 candles for Hanukkah, etc.  Given our affinity with candles, it makes perfect sense we would use one to remember those who are no longer with us.  However, it is so much deeper.  One of the biblical sources for why we use a candle comes from King Solomon, where he says, “The soul of man is the lamp of G‑d” (Proverbs 20:27).  On the most basic level, a candle emits light.  When someone is no longer with us, darkness is left behind.  The light of the candle is one of the methods we use to try to replenish this void.  On a deeper level, the candle represents a person’s connection to Hashem.  A candle is composed of two parts.  The fuel source and flame.  We are also composed of two parts, body and soul.  The candle represents the body and light represents the soul.   When a candle is lit, both the wick and the fuel are combusted in an upward flame of light. Through performing good deeds, the body is subsumed by the soul, becomes spiritual energy and ascends.

Another fascinating custom some people have which I have adopted is using a candle made of beeswax.  The reason for this is because the Hebrew word for beeswax is shavvah which is spelled שעוה.  This is an acronym (slightly rearranged) from a verse from the holy prophet, which says, “Awaken and Sing, you who dwell in the dust” (Isaiah 26:19).  Obviously, this verse refers to the day Elijah the Prophet will be sent by Hashem to blow the final Shofar blast announcing the imminent coming of Mesiach.  The dead will be resurrected (Daniel 12:2), the 3rd and final Temple which will be rebuilt to stand forever (Ezekiel 37:26-28, Ezekiel 40 in its entirety, and Isaiah 2:2-4), and the Hashem will deliver the Jewish people from all corners of the Earth back to Israel (Ezekiel 11:17, 36:24, Jeremiah 29:14, Isaiah 11:12, and Amos 9:15).

But until that day comes, there is even something more beneficial we can do for the departed than say Kaddish or light candles.  Since the dead cannot perform earthly deeds, it is up to the living to take on these responsibilities.  When we act humble and live a holy life in the name of the departed, they never truly die.  It is my sincere hope that with whatever time I have left on this Earth I am able to do my part to make sure the values my father taught me are passed on.  If they are, the world will be a better place.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)