The Soul of Kaddish

Rav Yitzchak Hutner, rosh yeshivah of Mesivta Yeshiva Rabbi Chaim Berlin, penned a masterful letter of nichum aveilim to a talmid. His words bring such comfort. "Le'nachamecha? To comfort you? Eineni yodei'a keitzad. I don't know hoW. Aval yeish Mi she'yodeia–But there is One Who knows. HaMakom yenachem eschem. That One is HaMakom, Hashem, the Omnipresent. He and only He can give comfort. HaMakom means the place. Perhaps the word itself can give comfort. Look around at where you are and who surrounds you. The place where you find yourself can give you consolation as well. Although the tragedy will sometimes cause the mourners to feel unsettled, if they look around and allow themselves to see and feel the support system that surrounds them, they will find nechamah."

Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, the great gaon and tzaddik of Yerushalayim, lost eight children in his lifetime to diseases that had no cure in those days, such as malaria and tuberculosis. As he sat shivah for his children, he mourned and he cried, but he did not give up: he remained steadfast in his faith. When shivah was over, he returned to his routine When asked how he was able to do so, he explained "Someone standing on firm ground trusts that the ground will hold him. But when the earth begins to quake, it is natural to become worried and concerned, and wonder about one's footing. However, if someone is not dependent on the ground to hold him up, but instead holds onto a rope extended from above, then even an earthquake cannot make him lose his balance. "I know that my ability to stand on the ground has nothing to do with the stability of the ground. Hashem is roka ha'aretz al hamayim–He spreads out the earth upon the waters. He gives it its stability and assuredness. The ground is held up by the Heaven Above and so when it shakes even as I have lost so many of my beloved children-I hold onto Heaven. That is what keeps me grounded."

Years ago, a young bachur lost his life. At the sheloshim gathering in his yeshivah, one of the speakers thundered, "Do you know why this happerned? Because of bittul Torah!" He then proceeded to give a very strong shmuess on the topic. Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky, who NEVER gave mussar in public, addressed the speaker. "Are you a navi?" "No." "Do you have ruach hakodesh?" "No." "So then how do you know this talmid died because of bittul Torah?" The speaker began to stammer, but Rav Yaakov cut him off. "So you must be assuming this is true. I hope you are right because otherwise, you are transgressing the sin of ona'as devarim, causing his family and friends to think that if only they had influenced the niftar to learn more, he would still be here. Do you now understand?"

Immediately after losing a close relative, an individual becomes an onein, exempt from all positive mitzvos. The moment the meis is buried, however, the mourner is obligated in everything. Not only that, but the children have the burden of Kaddish for eleven months. Why? The Torah understands the emotional makeup of an individual. Right after a close one's petirah, a person is rendered numb, speechless. "And how can the mourner pronounce a benediction or say Amen if he is 'speechless?" asks Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik. But the moment that relative is buried, aveilus begins and the Torah tells him, "You can do this. You are the master of your emotions. You have what it takes to accept and continue with your life. Don't let this challenge cripple you." Perhaps this idea is hinted at in the word avel (mourner), which has the same letters as the word aval (but). As if to say, "Yes, you're numb and broken, BUT you can still go on!"