From:          Sidney Slivko
To:               heb_roots_chr@geocities.com
Subject:       JUICE: Siddur


THE PRAYER BOOK:  A WINDOW ON JEWISH THEOLOGY

        Instructors:  Barbara and Reuven Sutnick

                      MOURNING IN PRAYER

 There was once a man standing outside the Jewish funeral home as a
lengthy procession passed. He had the look of a mourner. His dear friend
came up to him and asked: "Why so sad?" "Two weeks ago my uncle died,"
the bereaved man answered. "Oh dear," said his friend sincerely, "I'm so
sorry." "But," the mourner added, "he left me $20,000." "That's not
bad," the second chimed in, "But why so sad?" "Well, last week my other
uncle died." "Oh, I'm so sorry," his friend offered soothingly. "But,"
the first continued, "this uncle left me $30,000." "Wow, that's pretty
good!" But why so sad?" The mourner answered sheepishly, "This week
nobody died!"

Now, some of you will see this as still another example of tasteless
humor.  However, at the risk of sounding crass, I would like to pursue
the reasoning inherent in this joke. The joke does more than show that
there is a silver lining to every cloud.  It illustrates the emotional
schizophrenia that plagues human existence.  Poor us!  Our parents
(after 120 years) die and we inherit money and insurance.  The first act
of re-entry into normative society after getting up from shiva (the
seven-day morning period) is to probate the will before the
out-of-towners return to their homes!

The sense of dichotomy also exists for the Jewish ritualized side of
mourning.  On the one hand, we are confronted with the overwhelming
experience of loss and grief; on the other, we are responsible to a
religious, devotional system which demands that we acknowledge any and
all benefits that accrue to us at any time:

It is forbidden for one to take benefit from this world without first
[saying a] blessing, and anyone who BENEFITS from this world and does
not say a blessing, has STOLEN (from Heaven)!
                              (Talmud, Berachot 35a)

We find a remarkable discussion in the Talmud, in the Rif's precis:

   "A person must bless over the BAD just as he
   must bless over the GOOD" -- A person must bless on the bad
"Blessed is the Righteous Judge" (baruch dayan ha-emet) and receive it (the bad)
upon himself with joy, in the same manner as he accepts the good, as it
is written "Justice and Mercy will I sing." [This means that] if it is
mercy, I will sing; if it is [harsh] judgment, I will sing ...  (Rif,
ch. 9, 44b)

Rabbeinu Yonah (on the Rif) is even more explicit. He tells us that one
must bless on the bad with joy and a full heart, and should experience
even the harsh judgment as expiation for one's sins.

Before I start bringing some of these ideas into focus, I want to
mention two other related texts that really belong in our discussion
this week.  After the "call to prayer" (Bor'chu) in the morning service,
we recite the first blessing before the Shema (see Lecture 6):

        Blessed is ... Who creates LIGHT and fashions DARKNESS,
        Who makes PEACE and creates EVERYTHING.

This blessing is an adaptation of a biblical phrase.  We read in Isaiah
45:7:

        I am the Lord, and there is none else, I form the LIGHT and
create DARKNESS; I make PEACE, and create EVIL: I, the Lord do all these
things.

True to biblical poetry, we see here the use of parallel phrases. In
each phrase, the first element is the positive; the second is its
negative.  Furthermore, light and darkness are opposites; peace and evil
are opposites.  The prophet tells us that the belief in total monotheism
brings with it the awful (and sophisticated) realization that God is the
source of EVERYTHING -- even of opposite extremes.
 
Returning now to the blessing from the siddur, we can see that the
precise symmetry of language is not there.  In the blessing peace is
still parallel to light; but here EVERYTHING is placed in the position
parallel to darkness.  Instead of saying (as did Isaiah) "Who creates
peace and evil;" we say in our prayers "Who creates peace and
everything."

Now, I see a common thread in all the texts quoted.  Evil, suffering,
discomfort, death, mourning are all part of the overall fabric of God's
creation.  There is no monotheism, no "I am the Lord, your God" if we
don't attribute all that we experience as negative to the God who took
us out of Egypt.  Even our suffering bears the specific mark of the
Divine.  Therefore, for Isaiah and indeed for those who fashioned the
blessing of the siddur based on Isaiah, "everything" deserves its proper
acknowledgment in ritual!  Make no mistake about it, even though
Isaiah's language has been smoothed over a bit in the siddur, most
students of the Bible hear very clearly the echo of his words in the
prayer we recite.  The upshot:  amazingly, the blessing "Who forms light
and creates darkness" is a general blessing which also blesses over
evil!

I submit all of this to you because I think the Jewish religious
philosophy is highly integrated.  I furthermore think the rituals of the
siddur display this integration in words and lead us to experience it in
action.  What do I mean by this?

Think for a moment about the experience of bereavement.  If we consider
the elements in this experience which might occasion prayer, we would
have to include: the immediate care for the person who has died,
considerations of the afterlife, the needs of the survivors, and the
expression of the community towards one of its bereaved members.  At a
later point, we would want to add to this list annual commemorative
behavior.  Now when I stated that the siddur leads us to experience in
words and action the full integration of Jewish theology, I meant that:

        a. Ritually, we affirm that the Source of our bereavement is
God, the same Source of our greatest joys and successes;

        b. Ritually, we acknowledge the correctness of a judgment which
we don't like, which runs contrary to our human concept of pleasure;

        c. Ritually, we acknowledge that the Source of our recovery,
will be the same as the Source of our current misery, which is also the Source
of our joys, etc.;

        d. Ritually and publicly, we undertake to affirm at each daily
prayer service the correctness of the judgment;   

        e. Ritually in tandem with our community, we reenact the
acknowledgment that the judgment was correct, over a protracted period of time, the
length of which depends on the relationship with the deceased;

        f. Ritually, we acknowledge both in the funeral service and in
the annual memorial service, the dual aspects of Judgment and Mercy which
prevail in the situation of bereavement.

Please don't miss my favorite word: RITUALLY.  As has been pointed out
many times before in this course, to understand the siddur's spin on
Jewish philosophy, think RITUAL!

To affirm the source of bereavement and acknowledge the correctness of
judgment are connected ideas.  As part of the burial service we recite
the words "God has given, God has taken away -- may the great Name of
God be blessed."  This clearly acknowledges, no less explicitly than the
passage from Isaiah quoted above, the connection between our suffering
and the Source of our joy:  the God who takes is the same God who
gives.  However, there is another moment in the mourning service which
expresses the same idea even more poignantly.  At the time the mourners
tear "k'riyah," (rend their garments, which is done just before the
funeral service begins) they recite the blessing "Baruch Dayan ha-Emet"
-- "Blessed is the Judge of Truth".  This is a riveting moment, since
the sound of a garment tearing in a quiet room shocks like no other
sound.  However, the moment of tearing k'riyah, which is combined with
the blessing "Judge of Truth" is also significant in its uniquely ritual
context.  After a person dies, but before the funeral, the closest
relatives of the deceased immediately attain the status of "anninut".
This is the time period prior to burial when it is assumed that the
relatives will be attending to the needs of the deceased.  Consequently,
in Jewish law, these relatives are free from all positive commandments
(i.e. the "thou shall's" -- as opposed to the "thou shall not's!").
They do not pray with the community, wear the tallit (prayer shawl) or
tefillin (phylacteries); nor do they count towards a minyan.  They are,
in essence, free from ritual and from community involvement.  But, the
act of tearing k'riyah and reciting the blessing affirming the judgment
of the "Judge of Truth", draws the mourner immediately back into the
world of ritual.  In the same way that not eating matzah the day before
Pesach intensifies the experience of eating matzah on seder night, so
here the mourner's ritual deprivation makes his/her "acknowledgment of
the correctness of the judgment" (Tzidduk HaDin) even more intense.
After all, what ritual experience is there anywhere in Jewish life more
theologically critical than a person's affirmation of Divine Judgment
while his "dead lies before him?"

To summarize briefly: the mourner's recitation of "Judge of Truth",
particularly in the context of a ritual deprivation which temporarily
removes him/her from the community, derives from the siddur's integrated
theology. The mourner acknowledges the Source of bereavement, not unlike
Isaiah; s/he affirms the judgment s/he has suffered as s/he reenters the
ritual community.

The concept of a ritual community, particularly as it relates to prayers
of mourning, features prominently in the final moments of the funeral
service.  As the mourners turn away from the now closed grave of their
relative, they pass through two lines formed by members of the
community.  They are greeted with the words "May God grant you comfort
along with all those who mourn of Zion and Jerusalem."  These are the
words traditionally used by members of the community to comfort mourners
during the shiva visit.  They are also spoken to newly bereaved mourners
by the community of pray-ers when the mourners enter the synagogue on
Friday night.  These words are a corollary to Tzidduk HaDin
(acknowledging that God is the Judge of Truth): the mourner affirms
Divine Justice and the community reassures him that he will find comfort
in God, like all those of the community of Zion who have suffered
bereavement before him.

This ritualized "give and take" (i.e. responsive verbalizing) between
the mourner and the community is also a central feature of the most
well-known mourning prayer, the Kaddish. Please read the following
excerpts from Kaddish:

May His great name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He
created as He willed. May He give reign to His kingship and cause His
salvation to sprout and bring near His Messiah, in your lifetimes and in
your days, and in the lifetimes of the entire family of Israel, swiftly
and soon. Now respond: Amen.
       
(congregational response)  AMEN. Y'HEI SH'MEI RABBA M'VORACH,
L'OLAM U'LOLMEI ALMAYA.  (May His great Name be blessed forever and
always.)

We notice that within the text itself there is a directive to the
community to respond.  Scholars of Jewish prayer have noted that the
communal response is actually the most ancient part of the Kaddish
text.  They also note that these Aramaic words (the Kaddish is written
in Aramaic, the lingua franca of the Jews of the Talmudic period) -Y'HEI
SH'MEI RABBA M'VORACH, L'OLAM U'LOLMEI ALMAYA - is actually the same as
those found in a classical Bible translation (Targum Yerushalmi) of the
verses Genesis 49:2 and Deut. 6:4: "Blessed is the Name of His glorious
kingdom forever and always."  The Hebrew of this verse is cited
throughout the Talmud and midrash as a community response to prayer (the
second line of the Shema, for example).  Thus central to Kaddish, both
practically and textually, we have the Aramaic version of our most
significant Scriptural community response.

*SIDDUR SEARCH* The mourners' Kaddish may be found at the end of most
services in most prayer books. *EUREKA*   It is recommended that you
read through it in English to fully absorb its meaning and style.

Looking at the text the mourner recites, we can understand that it is
ritually, psychologically and theologically reminiscent of his
experience of bereavement.  This is true, even though the Kaddish does
not refer to the dead or to death at all.  Its words acknowledge that
God is responsible for EVERYTHING (remember Isaiah 45:7) according to
His will, and that this is a cause for sanctifying God's name.  This is
an acknowledgment of Divine Justice, the key religious element in the
mourner's reentry to the ritual community.  Here too, the community
answers.  Please read the following statement about this community
response, and see if you can explain why the Talmud finds it so
significant:

R. Yehoshua b. Levi says:  Whosoever answers "Amen.  May His
great Name be blessed forever and always" with all his might, the
harsh decree is averted (i.e. he is forgiven for sins)...
                                                               
(Shabbat 119b)

It is because "Tziduk HaDin" and its associate "Sanctification of the
Name," are a great statement of faith and trust in God's justice.  In
addition, they achieve significant weight, since they are expressed
PUBLICLY and in community dialogue.  (Certainly to make a theological
statement publicly has more weight and accountability than to make it
privately.)  The community's response actually activates the process of
public sanctification of God's name.  As the verse says: "I will be
sanctified amongst the children (plural) of Israel". (Lev. 22:32)
       
The relevance of a continued public acceptance of Divine Justice
throughout the period of mourning is understandable.  Think of the
normal response an individual has when faced with the loss of a close
relative.  He frames his rancor in the terminology of justice: "Why
me?"  "Why him/her?"  "S/He was so good?"   "Why did s/he have to
suffer?" "Why do the good die young when there are so many rotten people
out there, who live to old age?"  "THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!"  In Jewish
theology, the ritual of Kaddish is the mourner's publicly declared
acknowledgement that IT IS FAIR (even if this is difficult to face.) 
To this the community responds "Amen."  Ritual and practical theology go
hand-in-hand.

There is one other prayer for the dead which I wish to touch on. Both at
the funeral service and at the annual memorial (Yahrtzeit in Yiddish;
Hazkarah in Hebrew), and during the holiday memorial service, we recite
the Prayer for Mercy, E-l Maleh Rachamim:

        O God, Full of Mercy, Who dwells on high, grant proper rest on
the wings of the Divine Presence ... for the soul of (mention name)...May
his/her resting place be in the Garden of Eden...
       
Three elements are striking here:  1) there is specific mention of the
deceased by name, 2) we pray on behalf of the dead for the repose of the
soul in the Garden of Eden, and 3) God is represented in one attribute
only, vis. as Full of Mercy.  This conforms more closely to the pattern
of request that we have seen before in petitionary prayer, than to the
other prayers of bereavement we have discussed in this Lecture.
However, it is the last point which catches my attention.  The entire
experience of bereavement and the ritual affirmation of Divine Justice
(Tziduk Hadin) is based on a recognition that God is the Source of
EVERYTHING.  He is the Righteous Judge, even when His judgment does not
fit our own concept of what is fair.  We are directed to publicly
acknowledge God's righteousness, specifically at that time when every
fiber of our being screams that our suffering is not right.  Yet here,
we turn to God in the aspect of pure mercy!  What's going on here?

For me, the answer lies in the contrast and in the sequence.  Both in
the short term (the funeral service) and in the long term (the larger
calendar year), the Prayer for Mercy follows Tziduk HaDin.  As for my
second point, in Gesher HaHayyim (an important work on Jewish mourning
ritual by R. Tukachinsky, see vol. 1, ch. 33, 2:7), we learn that there
are those communities in which the mourner does not recite Yizkor
(including the Prayer for Mercy) during the first year after
bereavement.  While the author feels that this custom is inappropriate,
he nevertheless acknowledges that it has its basis in traditional
sources.  I simply wish to note that refraining from reciting
Yizkor/Mercy until after the full run of Kaddish has been completed,
expresses important religious sensibilities:  we can be prepared to see
God in the aspect of Pure Mercy only when the year-long process of
Tziduk HaDin has been completed.  Likewise at the funeral.

It has been a pleasure and a learning experience for me to teach this
course, as I hope it has been for you out there in Cyberspace.  At this
time, I would like to thank my husband, Rabbi Reuven Sutnick, for the
copious research, original ideas, unique turns of phrase, and
never-ending supply of jokes that he generously contributed to every
lecture of this course.  We have all been the beneficiaries!  I would
also like to thank the many students who participated in "Siddur
Discussions" in Cyberspace, and to let you know that the gates of
Cyberspace have not closed simply because the last lecture of the
semester has gone out!  Please keep your questions and comments coming.
                                                                      
Barbara Sutnick

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