May Our Memory be a Blessing
A prayer of Mourning and a note on what we leave behind
Death is an inevitable part of life. Without death, life would be endless; the experiences that make up our lives would get lost in the vastness of eternity. But we are not infinite beings. We are not divine beings, our lives are not endless, and even as we aspire to live in holiness, we recognize that our time here on Earth is merely temporary.
Within Judaism, we recognize the finite temporality of our existence. We also recognize our place within eternity — we rejoice in the place our ancestors have left us, and carry on steadfastly knowing the responsibility we carry for those who will live here after we are gone.
When we lose a loved one, we don’t say “May they rest in peace.” Rest is for the living.
We say “May their memory be a blessing.” All we leave behind are the impressions we leave on others: the tangible impacts we leave on our World. Memory transcends us, and the stories which our future ancestors will tell — stories of a generation in crisis, doing everything within reason to mend and steer this sinking ship — will continue to implore humankind towards compassion, community, and a profound care for the dignity and life of all.
Like a dandelion in the breeze, we leave behind scattered seeds, never to how their impact will cascade through time, never knowing how they will shape our future. Through these seeds, our life lives on.
I lost my grandfather last week. I held his hand while he lay in his death bed, and I looked into his eyes as he suffered in his time-worn body. He didn’t remember who I was, but I felt that in those moments, he knew he was surrounded by people who loved him.
My grandmother tells me that dementia’s first victim is one’s ability to reason. Over the past decade, I have watched my grandfather lose his ability to act, to play, to live in the present. And yet, while his memory atrophied, certain things persisted. I remember years ago telling him that I was studying the history of water development in California. I recall seeing his eyes light up as he remembered something of the decades of service and care that he put into his work: a life spent working on the problems arising at the interface of water and Life – problems tying together our economy, our population, and our ecosystems. Problems that seem to have only grown more dire in the years since.
My grandma also told me that the very last spark of a dementia patient’s awareness lingers on in their ability to hear the words and feel the touch of those caring for them. I will always remember holding his weary hand, listening to his difficult breaths, and telling him that I cared for him and would remember all the beauty he had shared with me.
And now he’s gone. All that remains is the matter that made him up — to be returned to the Earth – and the memories.
In Judaism, each time we pray we are supposed to say the Mourner’s Kaddish. This is a prayer I know by heart — but this is the first time I have felt the need to cling to those words. To find meaning, a teaching, anything to hold fast to the life and memories of a man I felt I had lost long ago.
Despite being a prayer we say to make space for grief, the Mourner’s Kaddish doesn’t actually mention death. Rather, it’s the same prayer we say in Torah services as we transition from our morning blessings to preparing ourselves to read Torah. A prayer we rarely delve into beyond its context.
I recently came across some words Rabbi Ariana Katz’ shared on her podcast Kaddish on the Mourners Kaddish:
Within the liturgical field, the actual words are the least important part of the prayer. It does one which all liturgy does – which is it connects you to generations past, while at the same time putting you into the future somehow. One of the functions of liturgy is to create that timeline outside yourself. And the Mourner’s Kaddish, it really is about the connection to the past. So not only, are you saying the Mourner’s Kaddish, if you’re saying it for someone you love who died, but you also have that sense going of your ancestors have said this when their ancestors died; so that sense of the rhythm of those words carries such a deep connection of ‘life goes on even in the face of death’.
While these words resonate deeply with how I’ve been grappling with death, grief, and that which we leave behind, I feel that we lose something when we say prayers for tradition’s sake alone. These are not merely empty words; a body is not merely an empty shell, but a life. In the world today, so full of grief, loss, and blind adherence to tradition, we must breathe life into our prayers. We must make our memories into blessings.
And so, I have taken some time to poetically translate the Mourner’s Kaddish into words that I hope will resonate with you. I hope that these words take root in your soul, and that the next time you find yourself pondering death and gazing into the edge of oblivion, you remember this: your life is a blessing, to share it with love — to be honest and present with those you care about — this is all we can ask of ourselves. May our life become a blessed memory.
A Mourner’s Kaddish
May we actualize the splendor and beauty,
Compassion and Truth of God’s Great Names.
May the wholeness of Nature be brought together in our lifetimes
For all the People
For all of us who struggle and struggled to live
For all Life on Earth.
May the greatness of Life be celebrated
And may our name
Our memory,
Our community,
And our stories
Be shared for all time.
May the Oneness of Nature be understood
Be sung,
Be revered,
Be shared —
Though the Whole is beyond all our capacity of understanding and of praise —
Beyond all expression of gratitude.
Yet we stand grateful
For all that exists
For all that existed,
And for all that remains to be brought into existence.
Yes.
We are forever grateful.
May the Cosmos shower the World,
And all Life,
With Goodness
And Peace.
And may this Peace
Sustain us:
Enliven our communities,
And enrich our memories
With Love,
And That which makes us Whole.
May we act with Love
Devotion,
And Truth,
And may our Ancestors
And the Living World
Forever move us
Towards Peace.
Life is composed of endless cycles of change. Those who came before and those yet to live, across all Peoples: we shape the World together. Life may be transient and fleeting, temporary and finite. But our presence here — bound up in dynamic webs of relationships and responsibilities — leaves innumerable impressions, cascading into a lasting impact. Our existence reverberates across time. Subtly shaping what that which was close to us, shaping the world around us. Whether in matter or story, fruit or knowledge, our presence returns to the abundance of the Earth. May our bodies feed flowers, and our memory be a blessing.
Thank you for reading Jewish Ecology. This blog aims to build a participatory dialogue in which important ideas at the intersection of Judaism and ecology can help us root ourselves in the World. This blog is not just for Jews; I aim for these articles to be accessible and impactful for anyone that is interested in building up an understanding of the role that spirituality, philosophy, and/or ethics play in bringing about a more peaceful, ecological, and sustainable future for all People and the World.