My mother died in April 2020 at theageofninety-six.Since then,I havesaidKaddishonlyahandful of times. Soonafter havinga shivaZoomcallformymom withmyold(and I domeanold)Camp Ramahfriends,onefriend,whoknowsofmycurrent religiousbeliefs,sentmethe followingemailmessage: “So,Mendel,whatdoesadevoutatheistdoaboutKaddish?Askingforafriend,ofcourse.”
I responded: “Your ‘friend’ should do like I do: read Kaddish in a language that she/he does not understand so that she/he will not realize how ridiculous it is.”
Although Kaddish is recited by mourners and by those commemorating the anniversary of the death of a loved one, Kaddish actually says nothing about death or the departed. It’s all about praising God. The opening line is: “Magnified and sanctified be the name of God throughout the world which He hath created according to His will.” “Exalted,” “honored,” “Holy,” and “blessed” are also used to describe His “glory.” Kaddish concludes with: “May He who establisheth peace in the heavens, grant peace unto us and unto all Israel; and say ye, Amen.”
Last year’s Passover Seder was held at our house. Because of COVID-19, instead of our usual crowd of family and friends, it was just the five of us: my wife, Lynn; our two children, Lauren and Jack; and my mother-in-law, Irma (aka Nana). At the insistence of Lauren, who has been spending a lot of time at Chabad in recent years, it was the first time in my entire life that we read the entire Haggadah, mostly in English.
Let’s just say that the translations in our Maxwell House Haggadah make Kaddish seem like blasphemy. We started out by thanking God for the fruit of the vine; for the radiance of the candlelight; for preserving us alive, sustaining us, and bringing us to enjoy this season; for the fruits of the earth; for (unleavened) bread; and of course most important, for bringing us forth with an outstretched arm from bondage in the land of Egypt. But that’s just the part before you get to eat.
It turns out that there is another whole part of the Seder after the meal. I knew that, of course, but we have rarely observed it other than by singing a few songs about goats and having Seder next year in Jerusalem, which, of course, we never really mean. Before last night, I had never read the entire second half of the Haggadah.
It’s all about how wonderful God is. We thank Him, we praise Him, we beseech Him, we love Him, and on and on paragraph after paragraph, page after page. Him and His mercy, His goodness, His grace, His beneficence, His compassion—all this to and about someone whom I don’t believe exists. And yet I think reading the Haggadah is an important tradition.
A few years ago, I went to a secular humanist Yom Kippur service (at a Friends Meeting House, of course) in which they chanted the Sh’ma in Hebrew, but they changed the Hebrew words to avoid mentioning God. I really enjoyed the service, but changing the Hebrew words of the Sh’ma was just too much for me. The traditional Sh’ma prayer, the most important prayer in all of Judaism, translates to “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is One.” I didn’t mind that the secular humanist English translation of the Sh’ma got rid of God, but I did mind that their Hebrew version did.
Many years ago, Ronnie Brauner, probably the greatest teacher, religious or secular, that I have ever had, taught me that it is more important to pray in Hebrew even if you don’t understand Hebrew than to translate and pray in English. According to Brauner, it is best to learn Hebrew so that you do understand what you are saying, but the most important thing is to pray in Hebrew, because the ritual is more important than the meaning.
All around the world, Jews recite the same Sh’ma and the same Kaddish in the same way: in Hebrew. It is important for the continuity of the Jewish people that we share these rituals.
Next year, if Lauren makes us read the entire Haggadah at Seder again, I’m going to insist that we do most of it in Hebrew. For the continuity of the Jewish people. And also so I don’t know what I’m saying.