Singled Out Versus Blending In

There’s an old joke in my religion that underscores our almost impish impulse to deviate no matter what: One pious Jew was stranded on a desert island and built two synagogues. When rescued, the crew members asked, “There was only you and your limited resources, so why two places to worship?” The Jew answered, “One was for me to pray in. The other one I wouldn’t be caught dead in.” Hmm, maybe the “other congregation” had a different way of handling the prayer for mourners (called the “Kaddish” in Hebrew and recited towards the end of each service). I have been reciting it for my father who died last December, and the tradition is to recite it for a deceased parent for about a year. In some synagogues only the mourners rise to recite it, while in others everyone stands and says it to support the mourners or to say it for those who passed but have no survivors to say it for them.

I have said this prayer in both kinds of congregations, and I have mixed feelings about each custom. On the one hand, if a few other people and I rise to say it, I feel acknowledged that yes, I am stepping through the peculiar passage of my first year without my father. Anyone present at that service who still does not know I had lost an immediate family member can later ask who I am mourning for and potentially become an additional source of support. On the other hand, I feel self-conscious drawing such attention to myself, as if a screaming scarlet “M” had sprouted on my forehead.

In the “other” synagogue, I feel more protected and less vulnerable as mourners and non-mourners alike participate in this ritual. But I feel that this dilutes and minimizes my feelings as they are “distributed” across the group. What do you non-mourners know about my feelings and those of the others grieving? The intention of course is fine, but it reduces the significance of the ritual for me. If everyone is carrying it out, then I am not doing anything special to mark my relationship with the deceased or to drive home yet again to myself the reality of the loss. I feel deprived of the power of this ritual.

If I and some other hapless survivors of another ship wreck had joined the Jew stranded on that desert isle, I would have instituted the following compromise: Everyone rises but only the mourners actually recite the prayer.

But wait, I hear an objection from the chair of the Board of Trustees: “That’s not the way to do it. Everyone recites but only the mourners rise.” Alas, we will need two synagogues after all.

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A prior version of this article was published September 6th, 2017 in the blog “Expired and Inspired”, in The Jewish Journal: http://jewishjournal.com/blogs/expiredandinspired/224040/two-jews-three-opinions-rabbi-karen-b-kaplan/ Permission was granted to place it here, with minor modifications.

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