Living Relationships with Our Beloved Dead
Yom Kippur Yizkor 5776
Rabbi Barry Block
At this solemn hour of memory, we gather in our holy Temple to remember
our beloved dead. But we do more than remember. We are transported into the
past. Yes, we experience the pain of our loved ones’ absence most acutely during
Yizkor. At the same time, we may also feel that our departed loved ones are
sitting beside us, sharing this sacred holy day.
In our mind’s eye, we envision a time gone by. Many of us recall the way
that our parents or our grandparents, now departed, taught us reverence for our
Jewish faith and for these High Holy Days. Others are particularly aware of the
husband or wife, the loving partner who made our holiday observances complete.
Some, who have been forced to bury a child, call to mind the wonder of sharing
Judaism with the next generation. We all share bitter-sweet memories of High
Holy Days past, of the loved ones and the friends who made our celebrations
special, but who are with us no more.
During this hour of Yizkor, nobody will demand that we get on with our
lives. Instead, in the quiet of this Temple, we are free to be alone with our
memories, reunited with our loved ones, if only for an instant.
For some, being with our departed loved ones is more challenging. In an
introductory essay to Mishkan HaNefesh, our new High Holy Day prayer book,
Rabbi Margaret Moers Wenig writes about the specific connection of Yizkor to
Yom Kippur. Some of us are filled with regret, mindful of ways we wronged our
deceased loved ones. We yearn for their forgiveness today. For others, we are
plagued by harm done to us by family members or friends who are no longer
living. We still seek their repentance.
A few years ago, Woody Allen, of all people, gave us a new way to embrace
these moments of returning to the past, of living once again with those who are
now dead. His film, Midnight in Paris, tells the story of a Hollywood writer, Gil,
struggling with himself as a man and as an artist. On vacation in Paris, Gil finds
himself magically transported in time – at midnight – back to a golden age in the
1920s, when Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein and Pablo
Picasso made great art, side by side, in the bistros and cafes of Paris. Gil is
smitten. He wants to live in the Paris of the past. He falls in love, too, with
Adriana, a mistress cast aside by both Picasso and Hemingway. From the ‘20s, Gil
© 2015 Rabbi Barry Block
and Adriana find another window in time, and are deposited in the 1890’s, “La
Belle Epoque,” the beautiful era, in the presence of Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas and
Gauguin. Adriana elects to stay in what she considers to be the golden age. Gil,
however, comes to a realization: He has been enriched by his encounters with
the great artists of the early 20th Century, but his life is in the 21st. Gil returns to
the present day with new inspiration and with a heart open to love in his own
time.
On this Yom Kippur, we, too, may experience the glories of the past. At this
hour of memory, let us revel in the celebrations of our earlier days, the joys of
decades gone by, the love we have known. On this day of fasting, let us drink
deeply of the cup of heavenly bliss, which we tasted here on Earth with the men
and the women and the children who filled our lives but who are with us no more.
On this Day of Atonement, we may even relive some of our more difficult
moments with those who have left this Earth – seeking, somehow, their
forgiveness, or perhaps their own repentance.
Shortly, of course, Yizkor will end. We will return to the waning moments
of Yom Kippur 5776, right here in Central Arkansas in 2015. We will come back to
living our lives in this world, in this year. We will re-awaken to a world without
our departed loved ones. We return to our own day without any new apology
from the dead, but perhaps with new ways to forgive them all the same. We may
come back forgiven, with God and our prayers relieving us of any wrongs we
committed toward our beloved dead. And surely, we will come back inspired by
memories of our dear ones at their finest moments.
We can continue to live with the passions and with the priorities of our
beloved dead. Their values need not be left here in the Sanctuary when Yizkor
comes to a close.
We may also live with a mature understanding of our dearly departed,
including their faults and failings. We may learn from their mistakes, and from the
errors in our own interactions with them.
If we will live with devotion to God, with fidelity to our Jewish heritage, as
many of our beloved lived in their finest hours, then they will live in us.
If we will seek forgiveness from the loved ones who yet live among us, then
the purpose of this hour of Yizkor will have been fulfilled.
© 2015 Rabbi Barry Block
If we will pursue our chosen tasks with the creativity and commitment
exhibited by so many of our dear departed, they will live in us.
If we will have honest conversations with our living family members and
acquaintances, inviting renewed relationships with those who have harmed us,
then our remembrance will not have been in vain.
If we are honest and generous, good and kind, in the noblest tradition of
those who went before us, they will live in us.
If we will celebrate life’s joys, observing our Holy Days with customs
cherished by generations and with observances we embrace anew, they will live
in us.
If we will hold our families close, letting our losses strengthen our loving,
then they will live in us.
If we will open ourselves to new love, and to new life, then they will live in
us.
As we leave the darkness of Yizkor, our metaphorical midnight on Yom
Kippur, let us march into the brightness of day with renewed purpose, inspiration
rekindled, unexpected forgiveness, and new love. Then, our relationships with
our beloved dead will go on living.
Amen.
© 2015 Rabbi Barry Block