For as long as I have known him, my husband has lit a Yizkor candle. Four times a year—on the three Pilgrimage Festivals, Sukkot, Passover, and Shavuot—and Yom Kippur, he spends a few moments in quiet reflection, says the Kaddish and remembers the father he lost when he was only seven. While he needs no candle or ritual to think of his beloved father, there is something enormously powerful and comforting for him and the countless other Jews who remember the loved ones in the same way.
The origin of Yizkor is Midrash Tanchuma where we “remember the deceased on Yom Kippur by pledging charity on their behalf.” Yizkor was later extended to include the three Festivals since it is no longer possible to make that pilgrimage and offering. Saying reciting Yizkor and donating to charity in memory of the departed has become the substitute. (Orthodox Union)
My heart is heavy each time I look at that candle. My heart breaks for the void in his childhood and his now adult life. And for our two daughters who will never know one of their grandparents. And selfishly, for me who will never get to know my father-in-law, whose thick Brooklyn accent and razor sharp tongue are immortalized in old audio recordings.
There is something amazingly powerful about how we as Jews honor memory. Ashkenazi Jews name their children after relatives who are no longer with us. Our beloved Molly is named after her “Grandpa Mike,” a name he is only known by posthumously. His picture sits on a bookshelf in her bedroom and in time, she will know the connection.
The Kaddish said at Yizkor and Yahrzeit never mentions death. Inspired by the text of Ezekiel, it speaks of the sanctity of God’s name, forever reminding us of lovingkindness and eternal peace, thoughts that can seem so distant in today’s climate of hatred and intolerance. But as they have for thousands of years, these words will forever remind us that there can be comfort and light, even amidst the darkest of times. Just like Matt always misses his father, the hilarious stories he told about him at Molly’s naming reminded us all of the blessing of this baby who will be his namesake. From darkness comes light.
Lisa Rothstein Goldberg is a social worker and Jewish educator. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky with her husband and their two young daughters.
