Yizkor is one of the strangest events that happens in a synagogue. Most of the members leave the sanctuary, and only some stay to say a special prayer that only applies to them. The reason for this is that if someone has both of their parents alive, and is thus not obligated to say Yizkor, it would be an “ayin hara” to stay in and have all the bereft congregants feel envious.
Yizkor is said four times a year: on Yom Kippur, the last day of Sukkot, the last day of Passover, and the second day of Shavuot. There’s also a custom to light a yahrtzeit candle for our loved one the night before Yizkor is said, and to say “L’EEloy nishmat [Hebrew name ben/bat father’s Hebrew name]” which means, “may this be an elevation of the soul of [insert name of loved one]”. A candle is compared to a soul in a number of places in Jewish literature and lighting a candle is a Jewish way to memorialize a loved one.
I’m in the Yizkor Club – the club no one wants to be in. I’ve been saying Yizkor since I am 7 years old, aware of the pity for being so young. Even now at 39, it’s somewhat depressing that a person my age has to say Yizkor, even though it’s actually one of my favorite things to say. I’ve always connected very strongly to what Judaism teaches us about the afterlife, and in Yizkor, it’s so poignantly and openly discussed – essentially, permission to dwell on death.
It’s kind of like the elephant in the room. Talking about the loved ones that we miss, especially decades later, is something that’s not socially appropriate most of the time, and those of us who have lost a loved one treasure the opportunity to talk about them, cry for them, and mourn a mini-mourning. More, Yizkor is my chance to offer help to my deceased father by asking God to remember him in the next world. This is incredibly empowering in a situation which mostly leaves one feeling helpless.
It always suprises me how short Yizkor is.
God, please remember the soul of my father, my teacher, Moshe ben Aryeh Leibush, who has gone on to his world. Because of this, I will commit to giving tzedakah in his merit. May his soul be bound up in the bonds of life, with the sould of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah and with the other righteous men and women who are in the Garden of Eden; and let us say Amen.
That’s it. But the old ladies in shul always hung around for longer, leaving me wondering what on earth they were doing for so long. So since I didn’t want to leave conspicuously early, I just used those moments to meditate on my loss, and my hopes for the future.
It was in those moments, I discovered the Kel Malei Rachamim prayer that delves even more beautifully into what is going on with the souls of our loved ones in the next world.
God who is full of mercy, who dwells on high, please find a good peacefulness, on the wings of the Shechinah (Divine Spirit of femininity), in the lofty heights of the holy and pure, who shine like the brilliant brightness of heaven, to the soul of Moshe ben Aryeh Leibush, who has gone to his eternal rest. Because of this I commit to giving tzedakah on behalf of his soul. May his resting place be in the Garden of Eden. Therefore, may the Master of mercy care for him under the protection of His wings forever, and bind his soul in the bond of everlasting life. God is his inheritance and may he rest in peace, Amen.
These last few lines are so incredibly moving and comforting for me. They remind me anew each time that death is not an end, that what we see is not all there is, that I matter in continuing the legacy of my father, that Jewish continuity effected by me and my siblings matter to him, and that I am not at all helpless in the face of loss and tragedy.
Yizkor.
May God remember, and may we remember.
What has your experience been with saying Yizkor?
I was thinking about this so much this year. I never knew what went on. Thank you for giving me some insight. It is surprising how short it is. I didn't anticipate that.
I've never heard of Yizkor. Is it said only for parents and not for other close relatives who have died?
I'm surprised you never heard of yizkor … only because in the synagogues I grew up in (traditional Conservative and Orthodox but with many non-O members), there were definitely large contingents of people who only came to shul for yizkor. Sometimes you'd see men who obviously were working on yom tov but who ducked out of the office from 11 to 11:30 just for Yizkor. People who weren't otherwise particularly observant made an effort for Yizkor, along with lighting yahrzeit candles. (In my husband's family it was a major crime to forget to light that candle! My late father-in-law used to joke that ancestor worship was the most important part of our religion).
I hope my comment doesn't offend anyone. I'm not trying to make light of the loss people who say Yizkor are obviously suffering.
Nope, never heard of it. Does R do this? I don't think so. They say Kaddish and if you are in mourning you stand up. There is a thing where the names of people are recited when it is the anniversary of their death, I do remember going to that at my grandfather's yahrzeit. And we did have a candle to light at home on the yahrzeit.
I'm pretty sure all denominations do Yizkor, and it's often the most frequently attended day at shul. It's only said on those four days of the year, and other than Yom Kippur, many aren't in shul in Reform congregations for Sukkot, Shavuot and Pesach, so maybe that's why it slipped your notice.
Wow. Thanks for this. It's been really hard to stay in for this during the chagim this year, but this is a great perspective. Really, thank you.
I'm so glad it could bring some solace.
Yizkor is an interesting phenomena, although it is a central part of the Tfillot Chag in Ashkenazi communities, and there are many Jews who go to shul ONLY for Yizkor, no other time in the year. Yet the minhag is unknown in the Eidot Hamizrach (Sfardi, Temani, etc). I believe that Yizkor is a relatively new minhag, but I'd be interested to see the origin of the minhag.
Interesting. I heard that the purpose of the candle was originally to provide light in the days when people got their light from candles. That way, the deceased was benefiting others, since without him the extra light would not have been lit. I forget if the point is that merit per se or the fact that the people benefiting would bless him for "providing" it.
I don't usually get emotional about Yizkor, but I do like to give charity on behalf of my father to an organization that he would have appreciated when he was alive. To me it's as if he's giving the money.
I'm curious: Why do you need Yizkor to talk about your father? You're talking to God, after all, and you don't need social approval for that the rest of the year either.
I love the tzedaka idea. I may just adopt that. I don't need "permission," it's just, how many times do I just stop and pray to God to remember my father? The same way, for example, without the bathroom prayer, how often would I really spontaneously pause and thank God for my health? So it's an opportunity and a reminder, I guess, more than permission.
As a child, we always were ushered out into the hall during Yizkor and always wondered what horrible / mystical / secretive ritual was going on inside, especially since during those years, most of the people saying Yizkor were remembering their families who perished in the Holacaust. Today, in my congregation, we have a custom of everyone staying inside for the prayer – out of respect and as a symbol of unity with those who mourn. At first I found it strange but now, feel it a much more respectable way to conduct a congregation for this prayer. The younger generation understands that death is part of the life cycle and sees that respect for our passed ones and the prayers for them are meaningful. The entire congregation stands and a hush comes over everyone while those who say Yizkor quietly pray and think about those who are no longer with us. The chazzan also adds a prayer for our Israeli soliders who gave their lives so that we can live freely. I think everyone can relate to that. I have seen a prayer for the health of (living) parents that is sometimes said quietly at the same time by those who do not say Yizkor. This gives them a special time to say a meaningful prayer of thanks to Hashem for keeping our parents healthy and safe.
I love that idea of saying a prayer for the health of living parents. It would remind people not to take having parents for granted.
I agree. That is beautiful. For me, though I've admittedly never experienced it a different way, I like the fact that everyone in the room is on equal footing with me and that there's a certain understanding among us. We all know loss.
Ruchi, I also like that feeling of togetherness in loss, but I can see the advantages of both systems.
What a wonderful and beautiful explanation. Thank you Ruchi!
My pleasure 🙂
I have an ambivalent relationship with Yizkor, as my father was a very troubled person. On the one hand, I am no longer angry with him and do wish that his soul will find peace. On the other hand, it is hard to honor someone who was actually a rasha (a term I do not lightly) and who caused much harm to others during his life. If I want to convince myself to stay, I think of my grandmother, who does not go to shul (but who does light candles), since would make her happy to know that I am praying for him. But there are also times that I do not stay.
I think having a parent die makes you confront death in a new and different way. When my father died, I felt that only those who had lost a parent really understood my loss. It makes sense to me for us all to be together. But annette's description of the new custom for everyone to stay is very interesting. In most C congregations, everyone is invited to stay, but lots of people go out.
On Yom Kippur, when the young people go out during Yizkor, there is a lot of connecting and re-connecting, as it's one of the few times per year that so many (liberal) Jews are in one place. I think this actually leads to a lot of positive connections and makes me think of second temple times, when Yom Kippur was a day for matchmaking.
SDK, you raise an interesting point: that of the child saying Yizkor for the parent with whom there was an ambivalent relationship. I didn't have time to not get along with my father, but I would be interested to hear from others about how they handle this aspect.
The shul I grew up in had the custom of reciting the names of every single member who had died since the shul was founded. Yizkor took half an hour!
Wow. That's intense.
I am 52, and the last day of Pesach was the first time I said Yizkor. It was actually over a year since my Dad died, but I followed the minhag of not reciting Yizkor for the first year. However, since my Mom died 10 months after my Dad, I said it for her as well. I think it was harder for me because this was my first time, but otherwise, the tfilla itself wasn't hard. I think of my parents often, and I'm still saying Kaddish for my Mom, so it's not as if I would only think of them 4 times a year.
Also, it's a little different here in Israel than in the U.S. where I grew up. In the U.S., there was always a long sermon before Yizkor, and it took longer because the Rabbi would read all the names on the memorial plaques in the shule. In the minyan I attend, there is no sermon, and the person leading Yizkor goes around and has each person say the name(s) for whom s/he is saying Yizkor. It doesn't take more than 5 minutes or so.
Interesting. I've never seen that done. There are so many different ways Yizkor is conducted.
I have a very different relationship to Yizkor than Ruchi does. I have also had the option of being part of the Yizkor Club since I was very young, and I decline to participate. As Michael Sedley pointed out above, Yizkor is a minhag, not a halacha, and not one that is part of the Sephardi tradition. My feelings about Yizkor are strong, personal, and negative, and I hope you all will indulge me while I explain why.
My older sister was killed when I was almost 11, so according to some, I should have been saying Yizkor since I turned bat mitzvah. But between the ages of 12-18, I couldn't bear to stay in shul. My mother's grief was so all-consuming; my role in the family had become that of her comforter. Almost every Shabbat my mother would burst into tears at some point during the service as a thought of my sister washed over her, and my job was to stand next to her, hug her, and try to soften her grief. The thought of standing next to her while she said Yizkor was truly too much to bear. All of my grandparents were still alive at this point, so it was a new and incredibly painful experience for my parents. I relied on the notion that staying in to say Yizkor for my sister would be an ayin hara (evil omen) for my young, healthy parents, as well as the idea that my parents were right there remembering my sister with every breath, and so I fled to the hallway during Yizkor to socialize with my friends.
After high school, I went to Israel to study for a year. As Yom Kippur approached, I decided to try saying Yizkor for the first time. After all, I wasn't in the same shul as my parents. I was in a different time zone, where Yizkor would be said hours earlier. This was my chance to be the first in the family to honor my sister on the day, rather than the after-thought that my grief had always seemed to be. I steeled myself for a moving memorial prayer, having no idea what Yizkor actually consisted of.
I was shocked and deeply disappointed when I realized that Yizkor, for all its weight and tradition in American synagogues, actually consisted of only a few lines, promising to give tzedakah to elevate someone's soul. There was no reflection on the person missing from our lives, no meditation on the meaning of memory. The trade-off of money for soul elevation smacked of the papal indulgences I had learned about in European history class. I had always thought that Jews didn't believe in paying off Gd with money, yet here I was being told to do that same thing. To top it off, I was a student living on a budget that was too tight for my reality. I couldn't afford all the textbooks my rabbis wanted me to buy, I was living off the cheapest food I could find, and here the prayer book was demanding that I give tzedakah?? I was offended, and for the first time (of many in my life, unfortunately) felt that Jewish tradition is the domain of the financially comfortable. I felt that I didn't deserve to mourn my sister publicly if I couldn't afford to give generously. The whole experience stung deeply. When Sukkot came around a week later, I stepped out for Yizkor, like almost everyone else my age. I haven't stayed in for Yizkor since.
Fast forward 25 years, I know I should probably reexamine my feelings and thoughts on this issue. It is inevitable that one day one of my parents will die (may they live to 120!). What will I do then? I think I will probably start saying yizkor at that point, and will tell myself that I am doing so to carry on that which they have done for so many years now. At this point in my life, giving tzedakah is a constant, not a financial burden. Yet the notion of exchanging good deeds in this world for preferential treatment for the souls of others in the next world still strikes me badly, since I don't share Ruchi's metaphysical approach.
Miriam, what a sad and painful account. Thanks for sharing it here. Maybe it's presumptuous of me to say, but I don't think you needed to stay in and say Yizkor for your sister. You were just a child. I wonder if your negative impressions of Yizkor today feeling mercenary are a carryover of your sadness and grief in general. As far as your "metaphysical approach," help me to understand this. The Talmud says, "Bera mezakeh abba" – a soul can help the soul of its parent/relative in the next world – which is what we do when we do a mitzvah, chessed, or tzedakah (I don't give large sums for Yizkor at all). Is this not a concept that sits well with you?
I never thought of the tzedaka as indulgences, but now I see what you mean. I still don't think that's the way it's meant, though. For one thing, I've never heard that the benefit to the deceased is directly proportional to the amount given. What I learned was that your parents raised you, so they get credit (in addition to the credit you get) for any mitzvot you do. Anyway, I don't say Yizkor for the credit. I say it because I know my father would have appreciated it. To me it's a way of honoring my father.
Ruchi, you too were "just a child" when you started saying Yizkor. 😉 Surely your sense of loss when your father died was comparable or greater than my mine, if one could measure such things.
I don't think that anyone is claiming the amount of tzedaka correlates to the benefit to the deceased, but it still seems like buying bits of heaven. I have trouble with the idea that my actions benefit someone else's soul. I get what you are saying in terms of a parent deserves the zechut because they taught you to do these things, but that doesn't follow in terms of siblings, or friends' loved ones (e.g. please learn mishnayos for so-and-so's father's yartzeit).
I identify more with a Rationalist approach to Judaism. As quoted from Rabbi Slifkin's website, http://www.rationalistjudaism.com:
"Rationalists understand the purpose of mitzvos, and one’s religious life in general, primarily (or solely) as furthering intellectual/moral goals for the individual and society.
Mystics see mitzvos as primarily performing mechanistic manipulations of spiritual or celestial forces, with their reasons being either to accomplish this or ultimately incomprehensible."
Yes I was a child, but a child's responsibility to memorialize a parent is different from a child's responsibility to memorialize a sister.
The reason anyone's actions can benefit a soul (and W, this also relates to your question – many people can effect change for a loved one, not just a child) is there was something about that relationship that inspired you to do a good deed, so it makes sense that your good deeds should then get credited to that soul. Kind of like refer-a-friend at the gym.
To be honest I understand SBW's views better than what you quoted. Not believing in a soul or in the afterlife at all – I get that. I disagree, but I get it. But isn't any belief in the soul and afterlife by definition mystical and arational?
I'm also a rationalist in the sense that I don't relate to mystical or spiritual concepts. I'm not saying they aren't true, but I don't understand them and they don't speak to me. I don't know what the purposes of the mitzvot are. But I look at things from a rationalist, logical perspective.
I was once told that the benefit of saying Kaddish for someone who isn't your parent is that it's adding holiness to the world that would not be there if it weren't for that deceased person. Since we get credit for all the good we do even without intending it, the deceased then gets credit. I suppose the same would apply to learning mishnayos for someone. On the other hand, it wouldn't apply if you were going to do it anyway and are just deciding to give that person the credit.
It sounds to me like it would be harder to be a rationalist Jew than a non-rationalist one. At least the non-rationalist doesn't have to reconcile anything at all. The rational Jew needs enough logic for it to be convincing?
I am surprised to hear that for Ruchi people can "benefit" a dead soul. I can imagine "honoring" a dead person, but what kind of "credit" or "benefit" do they get?? This is sort of like W's questions below. What lesser or greater benefits or rewards are there in Eden? And like W, what about people whose whole community and network were wiped out with them (e.g. shtetls), where there is no one left to say Yizkor and to do anything to their credit? Why should they be treated worse in Eden?
I agree that it would be harder to be rationalist. Belief in God itself is "spiritual." I don't really get that.
The reason you understand honoring but not benefiting is that honoring works even without a belief in the afterlife. The afterlife is a place where you really can't benefit anymore. The days of benefiting your soul are actually over. Because this world, with its potential for mitzvah performance, is the place for achievement. Once you get to the next world it's over and you're left with your good deeds and nothing else.
However, there is still a way, despite not being able to do mitzvot anymore, to improve your spiritual reward in the next world. If someone who IS still in this world does a mitzvah on your behalf. It can be anyone.
This is the part I can't figure out: "improve your spiritual reward in the next world". Ruchi, you say it's like a refer-a-friend. But how? Are there different "levels of membership" in the Garden of Eden?
I totally understand how praying and doing good deeds on a deceased's behalf could speed up the "admission" process. But I thought once souls get to the Garden of Eden they are all on equal footing? Are there different levels of heaven?
I believe we have souls and that there is an afterlife with accountability for our actions in this world, as dictated by Rambam's 13 Principles of Faith, but I also think we don't know how things function on that metaphysical plane and our obligation is to focus on this world and what is evident about the world around us.
I believe in Gd and my obligation to follow His instructions (i.e. the Torah) because to me that is the most compelling and logical explanation of the universe and Jewish history.
Yes, Miriam, I agree with all of that as well. W, no, all souls are not on equal footing. The reward in heaven is described as "basking in the glow of the Divine presence." If you're closer to the Divine presence, your reward is greater. If you're further away, your reward is less. There are many, infinite levels of heaven.
As far as having horrible children (or no children), that's not the only way to advance. ANYONE whom you touched during your stay on this earth, who was influenced or inspired or cared about your life, can do mitzvot on your behalf and pray for you.
This is why people are so into having someone (not necessarily a child) say kaddish for them – it helps them in the next world.
Ah, that makes sense then, thank you. I thought once in heaven, all souls were equally close to the Divine presence.
Do people tend to do mitzvot, or pray for people they had a personal relation with, or is it common to pray for the souls of illustrious people you've never met, like a rabbi who founded your community, or Rambam, or even Abraham and Sarah?
If they go visit their gravesite, they would. Many people do this in Israel, they visit the gravesite of holy people in our history or in the Torah, give tzedaka in their merit and pray for their souls at the graves. They also pray for themselves, in the merit of the holy person.
Hmm, you probably thought you're done with my questions, but your last sentence "they also pray for themselves, in the merit of the holy person" makes me come back for more explanations.
So does that work? What do you mean by "in the merit of the holy person? Are they asking the holy person's soul to look out for them or to intercede with Gd in their favor, or are they still praying to Gd directly, but the location makes the prayer more successful?
I meant "so HOW does that work?", not "so does that work"… sorry!
Hi W,
This question came up in my other thread on the How to Pray post. Both of the methods you described are kosher. In the latter you might say "God of [Abraham, etc] please answer my prayers" so you're invoking that holy person's merits in your conversation with God. We do these in our daily prayers even when we're not at the gravesite, but being at the gravesite where there's a soul- connection is even more potent.
I just want to point out that there's a difference of opinion here. Some people consider it forbidden to ask a deceased person, however holy, to intercede on their behalf.
At my father's shloshim, I held a study session and collected charity on his behalf and donated it to the children's home where my grandmother volunteers. This was very meaningful for her so while it was difficult for me, I was glad I did it. At the gathering, I talked a bit about my difficult relationship with my father and we studied texts about tsedakah. That was the best I could do. t was helpful to me and hopefully helpful to his soul. If I were a better Jew, maybe I would pray for him regularly, but I cannot do it. I just try to be as loving as possible to my grandmother and my aunt and never to speak badly of him to them.
I've always been a both/and person when it comes to Judaism. I find rationalist and mystic approaches equally interesting. During last HH, I sang one of the piyyutim to "un mir zaynin ale brider". I guess I'm wacky b/c it all works together in my mind.
I stand in admiration and respect. I think that is beautiful. And honestly, I would also say that I find rationalist and mystic approaches equally interesting.
I'm a bit confused. Contrary to SBW I've heard about Yizkor, but I don't quite get it. It sounds like a prayer so that the deceased's soul finds its way to the Garden of Eden.
But I thought that Judaism believes that the soul gets to the Gan Eden after 12 months at most? So why then keep on asking for it for years and years? I don't mean to be disrespectful, I can't figure it out.
Actually, I'd really appreciate a post on afterlife in Judaism. I have read so many "versions" that seem mutually exclusive that I'm a bit lost.
It's a fair question. Maybe I will post on this at some point. Yes, I do believe that my loved one is in the Garden of Eden, but the more mitzvot I do in his memory and merit, the more reward he accrues there.
So not everyone is treated the same in the Garden of Eden?
Isn't it a bit unfair to nice people who have horrible children?
Ruchi, thank you so much for what you wrte(said….I hear it in my head when I read it, as though you were talking to me) As you knowIm just a beginner….but your words have helped me take another step forward, sharing your experience, telling me about Yizkor…..such beautiful, poignant prayers, which I know are already in my prayer books, but Im going to write out yours in my ongoing 'homemade siddur'….just a Filofax where I keep all the prayers and blessings which resonate with me. Thinking of my Mum, who left me the best gift of all; being Jewish. "Who by fire….." Has a terrible irony for me given that she was burned to death.
……..I love the tzedaka idea. I may just adopt that. I don't need "permission," it's just, how many times do I just stop and pray to God to remember my father? The same way, for example, without the bathroom prayer, how often would I really spontaneously pause and thank God for my health? So it's an opportunity and a reminder, I guess, more than permission……….
Ruchi, I have never yet said Yizkor, but even though it's 'the wrong time' I want to do it. Loved all you said, especially the quoted part.