- 5785/2024
- Rabbi Ben-Naim
- Yom Kippur
Minchah/Yizkor/Neilah 5785/2024
Rabbi Elissa Ben-Naim
Wilshire Boulevard Temple, Los Angeles
We Remember
A few weeks ago my family gathered in this room on the one year anniversary of my father’s death. We gathered to witness as a family the installation of my dad’s name on the Korean War Veterans dedication plaque. I very much wanted to install my dad’s name permanently in this room. I. Jerome Schwartz. It is right over there- his new permanent spot in the room. Dad used to sit somewhere around row M with Ruth and Phil on one side and Nan Brostoff of blessed memory on the other. This room is where I would sneak down on Yom Kippur and we would just sit for a few minutes together before he kissed me on my forehead and I went to put on my white robe. His face radiated with pride whether I was leading Avinu Malkeynu or simply announcing a page number.
My father died last August 22nd at the age of 93. I had 53 years with my dad. He taught me the art of photography and the art of cooking- stuffed cabbage, gazpacho (not too much onion), chopped eggplant and smoked turkey. My dad, being a recovering hippy, taught me how to meditate and quiet my mind and slow my heart rate. For my dad, fixing the broken pieces of the world was a way of life, his pursuit of social justice and repair of this world were more than hobbies. Our family made 3 days a week of religious school a priority and a way of life. Honestly… there was very little else to do in the midwest. Friday nights at Temple…sprinkle cookies are the taste of my childhood.
In more recent years it was watching my dad delight in his children as we built our own lives. And it was really when he became a grandfather when we saw his identity shift. Dad became Papa. Papa who power-napped with the boys while “babysitting”…. Papa who remembered birthdays by gifting special Susan B. Anthony coins and the rare 2 dollar bill. My dad became Papa who taught my boys to drive and who came to countless football, soccer, tennis and basketball games. Papa who cooked for holidays simply because it brought him joy. His stuffed cabbage is the taste of sukkot for my family.
Dad… Papa … 93 years- most of them healthy, the last 17 of which were spent with his newest love Ruth by his side.
In this year, I found that I took my father with me as I walked through a Valley with a shadow of death. His values and priorities became animated in and through MY choices. I understand and realize now he joins me from another realm- connected by a sacred thread to the realm of my memories. Death is complicated for those of us who remain alive.
It has been a long and difficult year. My year of mourning changed radically on October 7. Indeed… Every Jewish heart has been shattered and crushed in some way since October 7. My mourning and my kaddish became so confused and complicated. My personal kaddish was muddled with the weight of so many tragic losses- leading kaddish for all of us as we mourned our extended Jewish family. Together we walked through the valley of shadows as we encountered a darkness few of us could see coming.
We had to make space to absorb another kind of loss…a loss experienced through a feeling of unity with people and nation. The loss and the violence and shattered dreams of “lihiyot am chofshi bartzeinu- to be a free people in our own land” … So many lives, so many dreams, for peace shattered. For many of us, beyond feeling the losses of our extended Jewish family- we also felt the extraordinary pain of losing people we once thought of as friends and allies. I don’t know how many of us even really used the word ally…. Or hostage …. Ever much less several times a week and in many cases each day. The losses we experienced changed us as if we had lost a piece of ourselves we would never see again. We came to understand in this year that we are a part of a community that is one ancient global people- a community that is beyond a physical location- we are a community connected to and through the thread of our shared history, we are a community committed to a brighter future even when that future is occluded by a seemingly forever shadow. That forever shadow cast around the Jewish world was a catalyst for many to travel to Israel this past year.
Many of us went to Israel in a time of war in order to say Hineini HERE I AM! to our extended family. We went in order to sit with mourners and work and rebuild and bear witness. Walking the devastated communities of Kibbutz Beeri and Kfar Aza, praying and saying kaddish at the Nova festival site, attending rallies and vigils at Hostage square in Tel Aviv with tens of thousands of our extended family, working the land, brining supplies and joy to displaced families- all of these acts contributed to our feeling of a global people. One mitzvah leading to another mitzvah, Many traveled with tzedakah funds on behalf of thousands of people. It was painful and beautiful and moving. It was on my most recent trip in the end of August that I met Chen Kotler, a resident turned docent at Kfar Aza. “Pray- Post- Protest” she implored our group of Jewish educators. Help spread the word and don’t lose hope. She wore a beaded letter bracelet which read “Keep going” Keep going.
There are days when I am deeply grateful my father did not experience October 7. How much could one person bear? My dad was born at the beginning of the great depression- I still have the family's food stamps in my files. My dad was in high school in the safe haven of Cincinnati when the horrors of the Holocaust took place. My dad then served in the Korean war… he experienced the unrest during the Vietnam War, the assasination of a beloved president as well as that of a prophet who marched for peace. So many of OUR family members endured devastating losses and hardships and here we stand again wondering if bad times will turn to worse times. And what did our ancestors do in these difficult times? What was the formula for survival?
They doubled down on faith, community and rituals, sacred spaces and important relationships. (point to mural) They walked away from the darkness carrying Torah with them and walked towards a brighter future. This is what my dad and our ancestors would do now. It is what we need to do now. Keep going. Keep going.
And so we gather in the sanctity of our spiritual home to recall that we are supported through our mourning period…and we are not alone in our remembering. We physically fill so many seats in this magnificent room….yet it is the memories that we all bring with us today that fills the room to capacity. We each enter this sanctuary tied to invisible threads suspended above and around us. Those threads bind spirits and memories of loved ones no longer occupying our physical realm but who sustain us and inspire us during our difficult times.
Today we awaken to the sacredness of this time and this space. It becomes a bit more holy, more dense than a normal day. We collect the Holy sparks and to listen to the guidance of those we miss. Those who have changed our lives-those we didn’t know before October 7 and those connected by the strong branches of our family trees.
As we remember we allow the values and merits of our departed to shape our steps as we go forward into 5785. And so now we take the opportunity as a community to invite our dearly departed to visit with us in our physical space. I hope that in this experience you will be able to feel the presence of someone you are thinking of.
As we welcome the presence of those we remember we build a space to heal and grow. We take an opportunity to engage with the deepest memories of our loved ones and we might gain a sense of their presence.
If you are comfortable you can close your eyes.
Try to relax your body while sitting up straight.
Become aware of your breathing.
In your mind’s eye place yourself in a room that has a chair for you and for each person you are remembering today.
Imagine your dearly departed.
Invite them to sit in front of you face to face.
If you have something to say, say it. If they need to talk to you, find a way to listen.
I invite you to become aware of your seat and open your eyes.
In the act of Yizkor - of remembering- we allow ourselves the time and space to heal and grow from the same things more than once. We allow the threads to reconnect us so we move forward renewed through our remembering.
We pray that the memories of those who lost their lives forever be blessings and a source of strength.
We pray to find ourselves living in a world of peace and may Israel be met with peace soon within our days.
I wish for all of us a g’mar chatima tova a year filled with health, a year where soldiers are home safely and a year where our 101 hostages are home. AMEN.