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Madison Scott-Clary 2020-06-16 03:03:44 -07:00
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writing/fanfic/kaddish.md
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%title Kaddish
:writing:fanfic:fiction:short-story:
*Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba. Oh Sarai, oh Sarai.*
*Yit'gadal v'yitkadash sh'mei raba. Oh Sarai, oh Sarai.*
Sol wept. Wept himself dry. Wept until his eyes burned and fit ill within their sockets.
@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ Rachel looked to be living in a constant state of alarm and exhaustion, some set
To lose Rachel --- *his* Rachel, his very own little girl all grown up --- and then to lose Sarai was unbearable. Unfair. Unacceptable. He cursed God. He cursed the god of Adam and the god of Abraham and Isaac and the god of Moses and David and Elijah. He cursed Rachel's god, Sarai's god. His god.
*Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba b'alma di-v'ra chirutei...*
*Yit'gadal v'yitkadash sh'mei raba b'alma di-v'ra chirutei...*
Magnified? Sanctified?
@ -35,30 +35,20 @@ Then, as now, he would sneer.
His kingdom. *Kingdom*. Was this it? Was this his vaunted kingdom come 'round at last, right at the end of Sarai's life? Was that last fiery moment of hers spent witnessing that grace and beauty? Was Sarai, in that moment more than any other, Israel, witnessing the establishing of God's kingdom?
Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba b’alma di-v’ra
And then, as now, the anger would flare bright, gutter, and go out, leaving behind a smoldering ember that would surely light again, and the sadness would be smoke.
chirutei, v’yamlich malchutei b’chayeichon
Perhaps it had been. Perhaps it had to be. Perhaps he must pray that it was. He must pray that, in those last moments, despite the terror, despite the flames and the terrible exertion of countless gravities, Sarai had seen that golden kingdom for herself and dwelt there for a time, however short.
uvyomeichon uvchayei d’chol beit yisrael, ba’agala
*Y'hei sh'mei raba m'varach l'alam ul'almei almaya.*
And then he would pray. Would pray and try to feel that praise within him. Would try to hold that dialog with God that he so desperately craved, would wait for the *bat qol*, that heavenly whisper, to make itself be heard.
uvizman kariv, v’im’ru: “amen.”
And, even in his disappointment, he would try to take those praises to heart. His faith was weak, fettered by doubts and too many analyses, he knew this, and yet, for those few sentences, he would at least try. He would at least try.
Y’hei sh’mei raba m’varach l’alam ul’almei almaya.
*Yitbarach v'yishtabach, v'yitpa'ar v'yitromam v'yitnaseh, v'yithadar v'yit'aleh v'yit'halal sh'mei d'kud'sha, b'rich hu, l'eila min-kol-birchata v'shirata, tushb'chata v'nechemata da'amiran b'alma.*
Yitbarach v’yishtabach, v’yitpa’ar v’yitromam
And then Sol would be done. The half Kaddish spoken, today as it had been every day since. Today until that fateful day eleven months from the day of Sarai's death. Today, and every anniversary.
v’yitnaseh, v’yithadar v’yit’aleh v’yit’halal sh’mei
*V'im'ru, "amen".*
d’kud’sha, b’rich hu,
*Oh Sarai, Oh sarai. Would that I had the faith to pray daily. Eleven months to let you go, and an amen to end the sorrow.*
l’eila min-kol-birchata v’shirata, tushb’chata
v’nechemata da’amiran b’alma, v’im’ru: “amen.”
Y’hei shlama raba min-sh’maya v’chayim aleinu
v’al-kol-yisrael, v’im’ru: “amen.”
Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu
v’al kol-yisrael, v’imru: “amen.”