Joan and I recently heard a string quartet concert devoted entirely to elegies. The music was so moving, the audience so quiet, I thought about how we give voice to support each other at the time of loss.
At TE, our custom is to stand together alongside mourners, and recite the Kaddish together. This ancient prayer was written in Aramaic, the common language in Talmudic times, so that everyone would understand what was being said. It is a prayer of praise for Adonai. In most traditional congregations, reciting the Kaddish is an obligation of a male mourner, or close male relatives. Others are not obligated to recite the Kaddish, but TE’s custom is for all to stand with the bereaved, in memory of the departed, and in support of those remaining.
In our wider culture, the elegiac tradition recognizes that mourners, sometimes wordless, receive critical support from others who stand together and share the sorrow. Elegiac poems and music move each of us as we think about the one who has died, our own mortality and beyond to the miracle of our short lives.
Mary Frye wrote this elegiac poem for a Jewish girl who had fled the holocaust, only to receive news that her mother had died in Germany. Frye saw this girl weeping inconsolably because she could not visit her mother’s grave to share her tears of love and bereavement.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep:
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.