Dear Friend,

I recited my mother's final Kaddish and didn't even know it.

Back in the old country, mothers would call their newborn baby boy "my Kaddishel", my little Kaddish, because he would be the one to recite the Kaddish prayer after her passing. It is a prayer of faith and assists the soul as it ascends on high and is elevated through the celestial spheres.

During the initial days of mourning, the Shiva, I already knew that living in Petaluma I wouldn't have the opportunity to recite the Kaddish every day. Rabbi Groner, the Rebbe's secretary of over 40 years (who unfortunately passed away this past week) visited my parents' home in NY during the Shiva, and reassured me, based on the Rebbe's advice to a Chabad rabbi in a similar situation, that it was ok. The Mitzvahs that would be done in Petaluma; the holiday celebrations; the children experiencing Jewish life; these would be a greater merit to my mother's soul than the daily Kaddish.

So I designated someone to recite Kaddish daily in memory of my mother. Nevertheless, I tried to seize every opportunity for a Kaddish. I would drive the kids' carpool to school in the city, so I could catch a morning service down the block from their school. I'd join a Sunday morning Minyan, or a Tuesday night one happening somewhere in the wider vicinity.

So although we don't often have a large crowd for Shabbat services, when a community member asked if we could put a minyan together for a Yahrtzeit, I was more than happy to galvanize the troops, resulting in a beautiful Minyan where we both got to recite the Kaddish. The next day, schools were canceled, seniors asked to shelter, shortly followed by the rest of us. Looking back, it was my last Kaddish. My eleven-month Kaddish reciting period ended this Sunday. Without a Kaddish.

Did my mom miss out?

Of course not. For several reasons: 
The Mitzvahs have continued, fast and furious. The soul is ascending just fine; it's just using a different recipe. Just like my mother. My friends know that my mother had us on a different-than-most diet. She was into vegetarian, macrobiotic, health-conscious food choices, and we were along for the ride. We ate seaweed for snack before Costco ever thought of selling it.

We only recite the Kaddish for eleven months, rather than a full year, to symbolize that the soul is presumed pure enough to make the ascent unassisted. Knowing my mom, she didn't need month number eleven either.

But there's another element. This whole coronavirus is showing us that the world is not what we thought it was. Kaddish is perhaps more for the one saying it; it gives me the opportunity to connect with my mother, to perpetuate her legacy, to receive the blessings from above that I'm certain she's lobbying for. And right now, she's petitioning and advocating for her family to be safe and sound. 

This is the same idea as Yizkor, the memorial prayer recited on holidays to honor our dearly departed loved ones. During Yizkor, we remember our loved ones, but we all know, that in an even greater sense, it is them remembering us; for blessings, for life, and for success.

It was one year ago, on the last day Passover when we gathered for the Yizkor service, that the news arrived of the tragic shooting at the Chabad in Poway. We vowed that Shuls (synagogues) would only become more full. And they did. Until they closed... So now we have to flip the script and fill ourselves with the shuls, fill our hearts with the values that have withstood the test of time, that our parents and ancestors sacrificed so much for. Let this Kaddish-less Yizkor be the fullest one yet.

Traditionally, for this solemn and poignant prayer recited on the last day of Passover (April 16th), we are gathered in the holiness of community, in the sanctity of the Shul, with the Torah scrolls bearing witness to our testament of love, loyalty, gratitude, and continuity. This year, it's not to be.

Toward that end, I am volunteering to serve as your representative in offering the Yizkor prayer for your loved ones in our shul - while clutching the Torah - on your behalf.

On Thursday morning, I will don my mask and gloves and walk to our Petaluma Chabad House where I will pray in physical solitude (a quorum of one) in compliance with the critical social distancing measures in force. Spiritually, however, I will have you and your family very much in mind and heart.

When I come to the point in my prayers where Yizkor is typically recited, I will remove the Torah scroll from the ark and hold it in my arms as I recite Yizkor on behalf of the entire congregation, pronouncing the name of each departed loved one you may ask me to mention and remember for you.

I will need the names of your loved ones and their mother's name (preferably Hebrew names). Please send me the names today no later than 7pm as the holiday begins shortly thereafter. You can respond to this email or email [email protected]. Put "Yizkor" in the subject box. I will mention them at Yizkor time in our shul, even as I pray to be worthy of the awesome task with which you will have entrusted me.

May the souls of our righteous loved ones - including my mother Shulamis Ita bas Efraim Hirsch and Rochel Leah -  have an "aliya", ascending ever higher in the heavens above, and may they intercede and prevail upon Hashem to bring a swift end to this devastating pandemic, along with a full and speedy recovery to all those affected by the virus.

If you have a prayer book at home, please recite the Yizkor prayer at home as well, and reflect upon the memories and legacies of our loved ones. You can also view the memorial prayer HERE and print it out before the holiday. 

It is customary to give charity along with Yizkor. You can make your generous contribution HERE (Please know, however, that a donation is not required to send names to be mentioned).

Wishing you a Gut Yom Tov, a Happy Passover, and as we celebrate the splitting of the sea tonight, let's pray for breakthroughs and miracles in our times.
Rabbi Dovid Bush