grief and joy in a portrait

Mingling Joy and Sadness

Rabbi Stephen Weiss
B’nai Jeshurun Congregation

Yizkor Shavuot 2020

no matter how much joy we find in life, there is always going to be pain and sadness

We now make a rather unusual transition, from Confirmation to Yizkor. Normally, Yizkor and Confirmation are not held on the same day. Traditionally, confirmation is on the first day of Shavuot. We moved it to this morning because yesterday was originally scheduled to be final exams in many schools. The planning of that shift, of course, happened before the pandemic hit.

At first blush, it may appear strange or awkward to celebrate confirmation and observe Yizkor on the same day. After all, confirmation is a time of joy and great celebration. Yizkor is a time of somber reflection when we revisit our grief and sense of loss. Yet there is beauty and meaning in combining these two seemingly incongruous events. After all, Yizkor and the festival itself combine grief with celebration.

Yizkor’s origins date back at least to the 5th century. The Midrash Tanhuma connects the practice with a verse in parshat Ha’azinu.  In that song which Moses sings toward the end of his life, he says:  ???????? ?????????? ??????????? ????????????????? ???????    — ” Lord, atone for your people Israel, who you have redeemed.” The midrash states that the phrase kaper l’amcha – atone for your people – refers to the living, whereas the following phrase asher padita – who you have redeemed – refers to the dead. In other words, just as the living, so too the dead need atonement on Yom Kippur. The midrash then goes on to say that this is the basis for the custom that on Yom Kippur we mention the names of the dead and distribute charity for their sake. When we do, we elevate their soul in heaven, and enable them to eat from the fruit of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden. This is the origin of the idea of doing an aliyah for the neshamah of a loved one, that through our righteous deeds – through saying Kaddish and through prayer, observing mitzvot and doing acts of kindness and justice – we elevate their souls.

So, one reason we say Yizkor on Yom Kippur is to gain atonement for our loved ones. Our doing good in this world gains them merit in the world to come. Over time, the inverse of this idea also became associated with Yizkor. The Talmud teaches us the concept of zechut avot – the merit of our ancestors. In reciting Yizkor, we say to God, if we are not worthy of atonement and blessing on the basis of our own deeds, then forgive us and bless us for the sake of our loved ones who passed on before us. Count their merit toward us.

So, Yizkor is both a way in which we seek atonement for our loved ones who passed on by our acts of faithfulness, and a way that we seek atonement for ourselves through our loved ones’ acts of faithfulness.

Okay, so that explains Yizkor on Yom Kippur. But it begs the question: why do we recite Yizkor on the three pilgrimage festivals? As best as we can tell, these were added during a time of persecution in the middle ages, likely during the Crusades, as a way of memorializing those who were martyred. The connection to the festival itself is that the maftir reading on the festivals talks about the gifts that were offered to God in the Temple on these occasions. Just as our ancestors offered gifts to mark the holiday, so do we. In place of sacrifices, our gifts are gifts of charity made in memory of our loved ones.

That is one of the reasons that we recite Yizkor today on the festival of Shavuot. But it still leaves the ultimate question. Yom Kippur is a somber day of reflection and teshuvah. It follows that we would recite Yizkor on that day, in connection with the task of atonement. But the festivals are days of joy on which we are specifically commanded by God to rejoice. How is it possible that we interrupt our rejoicing by resurfacing the pain and grief brought about by the loss of our loved ones?

The answer lies in the reality that no matter how much joy we find in life, there is always going to be pain and sadness. We cannot separate the two. In life, they come together.

We celebrate our freedom at the seder, but we also eat maror. We rejoice with the bride and groom, but we also break a glass. So too, we say Yizkor on a festival, and this year side by side with confirmation. The combination of our deepest sorrows with our greatest joys in Jewish life remind us that even in our times of greatest pain we must seek out and celebrate our highest joys.

Yizkor is a time to reconnect with our loved ones and be with them once again.  For those confirmation families, it may be a time to feel your loved ones’ presence at as you celebrate the joy that your child brings to you. For the rest of us, confirmation should remind us that there is much to celebrate in life even as we grieve. It should also remind us that whatever difficult moments we may have had with those that we remember today; those moments were also matched by moments of great joy. That’s the way life is.  We don’t hide from the pain of difficult moments in our past. But today we choose to remember the good,  the joy and the blessing brought into our lives by those no longer with us.

As we recite Yizkor, our tears are mingled with our joy. We grieve what we have lost, but we celebrate what he have gained by the love and the goodness that those who passed on gave to us, and by the many ways that they still are present in our lives.