A Liturgical Quandry

[debka_notion]

Those of you who've used certain prayerbooks have encountered the version of Kaddish with the names of concentration camps interspersed between each of the words. It's absolutely horrid, in terms of the meaning of the text of Kaddish, which praises G-d, and is not actually a mournful text.

On the other hand, I've seen it used, and while I despised it, I also found it frighteningly effective, as an emotion-provoking piece. I don't know why it works, but it does.

So, when faced with something so contradictory, what do you do?

Comments

[rymenhild.livejournal.com]

I've heard it done / participated in its reading, and it doesn't work for me at all. I don't like the way the camp names disturb the rhythm of Kaddish, and I don't like the way they interrupt the sense, and I think that a separate prayer for the lost six million would work much better. That prayer makes me acutely uncomfortable, and I try, if I have a choice, to leave the room before its reading.

[gimmelgirl.livejournal.com]

We're doing it this year... I agree that it's jarring, but that's the point. The kaddish, when done in the context of mourning, is inherently jarring. You want me, who lost a loved one, to praise God?! That's the challenge, and here, it's framed as a challenge not for an individual mourner, but for us as a Jewish people collectively.
It's a measure of endurance or even defiance: despite this horrid national loss, that occurred in the lifetime of my shul and its members, we continue to praise God. We continue to exist. And so, at the end of the martyrology, where we are brought to question/consider how it is we've survived despite our oppressors attempting to swallow us up, it drives the point home. Methodically, they tried to blot us out. The names of the camps beats a slow rhythm. But despite it. we, with an equally, if not MORE deliberate, rhythm, proclaim God's glory.

[cynara-linnaea.livejournal.com]

I like the thought as a reason why we might want to keep doing it, but I am rather doubtful that the originator had that in mind. I feel like a kaddish afterwards would achieve the same effect of praising G-d in defiance of tragedy without shoehorning in the camp names, which just creates dissonance and emotional whiplash.

I have led it, but I don't like it. I much prefer the specific Kel Male Rachamim. Kel Male Rachamim followed by kaddish gives each a moment of due respect rather than trying to do it simultaneously.

But then again, the entire concept of kaddish as a mourners' prayer is rather odd; not just the content but also the evolution of the custom.

I guess I have no helpful advice, just some ramblings.

[gimmelgirl.livejournal.com]

Why do you think that's not what the originator had in mind? Just curious.

[cynara-linnaea.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure I can verbalize it. It's probably just my cynicism about recent additions to the service, augmented by the fact that I first encountered it in the Harlow (a machzor I utterly despise for flagrant liturgical idiocy).

[jonahrank.livejournal.com]

I realize I'm not answering your question per se, but I think that there's an interesting tension between the Kaddish being a piece of praise and people recognizing it as a prayer for mourners, who are likely to have reason to be frustrated with rather than ready to praise God. The names of the concentration camps during the Kaddish to which you refer to, I feel, speaks very well to the subconscious of those reciting Kaddish at that moment of the service.

Anyway, my temporary two cents on the effectiveness of it...

[shirei-shibolim.livejournal.com]

I'm not fond of the piece myself, but I can see why it works. It was best illustrated for me when I heard a very effective musical rendition of it at a cantorial concert. The soloist sang through the Aramaic text, initially with a boisterous and self-assured tone and melody, but every now and then someone in the chorus would call out one of the massacre sites, and over the course of the composition the soloist struggled more and more to continue saying kaddish. It was the first performance of this that I've ever seen (and the only one to date) that showed some sensitivity to the text itself, rather than the text as imagined in popular culture.

That said, I have no idea how to convey it that way in a congregational setting. For now I just bear with it, and think to myself "this is a poem, this is a poem," because otherwise we're saying a kaddish in the middle of an amida, and what's that about?