Secular-Friendly Mourners' Kaddish Translation by Rabbi David Cooper

There is an eternal essence that persists in time and space —
and this is our prayer to make it part of our awareness 
by affirming its persistence and pledging ourselves 
to act to advance the promise it holds of a better world; 
may it be soon and in our days. Amen.

Let the great essence be blessed through all our actions!

Whether it be blessed or praised or honored or exalted, 
we affirm that it is far beyond any expression which we use to describe it — 
prayer or song, prose or poem — and we say: Amen

We express our hopes for peace and for life upon us and upon all people. Amen.

May the harmony we experience as we gaze toward heaven 
be reflected in a harmony between all who dwell on the planet: 
Israelite, Ishmaelite, and all creatures upon this holy earth, and we say: Amen.

From: Beside Still Waters, available for download and purchase.  

Today surprised me--

the sun and skies of blue shading

almost translucent,

almost too bright,

studded with clouds

that wandered in stately lines

invisible to the naked eye

and the grieving heart.

It beckoned, this day

of surprises and shaded blueness.

I thought it would be warm;

It's certainly bright enough,

clear enough,

and from my window, 

there are still leaves of green

that cling to their branches,

so it could be a different day

entirely.

It could be a day in spring,

where the wind still carries

a quiet note of cold.

and you waited.

wrapped in stillness.

while I walked through 

gardens just at the bursting point,

and blossoms spilled their

scent of life,

all green and yellow and white,

making the air heavy

and light at the same time.

I collected the dew

and a spray of flowers 

for your table.

And you laughed,

and pressed a kiss upon my lips.

It could be that day,

but this day has surprised me,

its colors and leaves framed 

so neatly by my window,

but there are things carried in this 

day, invisible to the naked eye

and a grieving heart.

There are no wildflowers

to collect along the way,

and the grass is stiff with frost.

My step is much slower,

a stumbling gait, 

hesitating and halting.

Slowly, oh so slowly

with love and tender grace

I lay a spray of flowers

upon your grave,

a surprising note of color, just

visible to my grieving heart.

- by Stacey Zisook Robinson z”l

___

Shared with permission from ReformJudaism.org

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

I’m thinking of you today, my _______,

because this is the last day

of saying daily Kaddish for you.

I have enjoyed this obligation.

It has been both sad and sweet,

To make time for thoughts of you each day.

It has been a time of standing with my fellow

congregants,

and laying out those rhythmic words: Yitgadal

v’yitkadash.

A time of wishing you release from Gehenna;

Of feeling somehow close to you,

and part of the process of burning off

all but the best of memories.

I am a mourner. I have been.

Today, I shift, though, from grief to memorial.

From current pain to memory past.

I have done what I could do for you, my _________.

Today, you are free to move on to God.

May your blessed neshamah go in peace.

-by Rabbi Avivah Erlick

—

Originally published in Laments & Kavannot for The Journey, produced for Kavod V’Nichum’s annual North America Chevra Kadisha Conference and shared with author’s permission.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

In memory of Roberta and Michael Laric z”l 

Aharon was silent in the face of death.

Sometimes there are no words

And sometimes words are all we have

To communicate

To commiserate

To comfort.

HaMakom yenachem etchem btoch sh’ar aveilei tzion v'yerushalayim

“May God comfort you among the mourners of Zion

And Jerusalem”

Falls so short

And yet the very formula

Grants grace

Giving us words to fill the silence

Linking our discomfort to the discomfort of ages

And ages of comforters

Standing at graveside

Sitting at shiva

Wishing we could do more.

Sometimes there are no words

And sometimes words are all we have

That and a hand on a shoulder

A tear in the throat

A heart overflowing

And the promise to come

When everyone else has left

So, though bereft,

The mourner is not abandoned. 

-by Rabbi Susan Grossman

—

© Copyright. Rabbi Susan Grossman, 2022. Shared with author’s permission. 

At the rising sun and at its going down; We remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter; We remember them.

At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring; We remember them.

At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer; We remember them.

At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of the autumn; We remember them.

At the beginning of the year and when it ends; We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as We remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength; We remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart; We remember them.

When we have decisions that are difficult to make; We remember them.

When we have joy we crave to share; We remember them.

When we have achievements that are based on theirs; We remember them.

For as long as we live, they too will live, for they are now a part of us as, We remember them.

אֵל מָלֵא רַחֲמִים, שׁוֹכֵן בַּמְּרוֹמִים, הַמְצֵא מְנוּחָה נְכוֹנָה עַל כַּנְפֵי הַשְּׁכִינָה, בְּמַעֲלַת קְדוֹשִׁים וּטְהוֹרִים כְּזֹהַר הָרָקִיעַ מַזְהִירִים, אֶת נִשְׁמַת (שם הנפטר בן שם אביו) שֶׁהָלַךְ לְעוֹלָמוֹ, בַּעֲבוּר שֶׁבְּלִי נֶדֶר אֶתֵּן צְדָקָה בְּעַד הַזְכַּרַת נִשְׁמָתוֹ, בְּגַן עֵדֶן תְּהֵא מְנוּחָתוֹ, לָכֵן בַּעַל הָרַחֲמִים יַסְתִּירֵהוּ בְּסֵתֶר כְּנָפָיו לְעוֹלָמִים, וְיִצְרוֹר בִּצְרוֹר הַחַיִּים אֶת נִשְׁמָתוֹ, יְיָ הוּא נַחֲלָתוֹ, וְיָנוּחַ עַל מִשְׁכָּבוֹ בְּשָׁלוֹם. וְנֹאמַר אָמֵן.

El Maleh Rachamim, shocheyn bam’romim, ham-tzay m’nucha n’chona al kanfei Hash’china, b’ma-alot kedoshim utehorim k’zo-har haraki-a mazhirim, et nishmat (Name of the Deceased) she-halcha l-olomoh, ba-avur shenodvu tzedakah b’ad hazkarat nishmatah. B’Gan Ayden t’hay menuchatah; la-chayn Ba-al Harachamim yas-tire-ha besayter k'nafav l’olamim, v’yitz-ror bitz-ror hacha-yim et nishmatah, Ado-nay Hu na-chalatah, v’tanu-ach b’shalom al mishkavah. V’nomar: Amen. 

God, full of compassion, dwelling as uplift and within, grant perfect rest under Your sheltering Presence, among the holy and pure who shine with heavenly splendor, to the soul of our dear one who has gone to his/her/their reward. May the Garden of Eternity be his/her/their rest. Please, Power of Compassion, shade him/her/them in the shadow of Your wing forever. May his/her/their soul be bound in the bonds of eternal life. May Adonai be his/her/their inheritance, and may he/she/they rest in peace. And let us say, Amen.

Source: Adapted from Sefaria Community Translation by Rabbi Melanie Levav

Clip source: The Shomer Collective