Last Monday, as I went off to synagogue for Shmini Atzeret (one of the least known of the Jewish holidays), I told my son that I was eager to get to synagogue because it was one of four times a year when we say “yizkor,” the service of memory for those who have died. “What do you do when you remember your mom?” my son asked me. He knew that on these days of remembering, it is my mother, who died at the age of 52, who is most close in my mind. But Daniel’s question intrigued me and continues to resonate for me. What does it mean to remember? And what does it mean as parents to create a place for memory within our homes?
Children have amazing memories. They retain details, minutia, nuances that are often so small that we may not have even noticed these small moments as they occurred, never mind weeks and months later. As parents, we have countless examples of our children bringing up places, people, details and flavors that have “stuck” – some very big and others seemingly insignificant. But then, on days like last Monday, as I sat in synagogue reflecting on memories of my deceased mother I noticed how important these little details are. I remember the large earrings my mother wore, her soft, almost tissue-like bronzed skin, the wrinkles around her knuckles, the way that she narrowed her gaze when she was deep in thought. I remember the small vases of roses that she scattered throughout our home, the sound of her voice when she left message on my answering machine. On Monday my rabbi asked the congregation, “what memories of the deceased do you want to bring more into your life? What do you miss?” These are big questions, and perhaps the beginning of answering Daniel’s question about what it means to remember.
“Memory is at the core of Jewish tradition,” writes Francine Klagsbrun. In Judaism the injunction to remember is a religious imperative for our entire people. “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy,” we are commanded. Or, “Remember you were slaves in the land of Egypt.” As Jews, we remember, therefore we are. We are a people committed to the power of reflection and revisiting. In our annual Jewish cycle we keep our history and memory alive by re-reading our sacred texts over and over. On Simchat Torah, we completed the book of Deuteronomy and instantly began the book of Genesis again. We also remember not only by reading but also by literally re-enacting our history. We don’t simply speak about the life our ancestors led in the wilderness, instead we erect a sukkah in which we eat and some even sleep!
As parents we struggle with how to bring memories into our homes. While I know that I want my children to know my mother, my deceased grandparents, and beloved aunts and uncles, it is not always natural for me to know how to make these people come alive – to become three-dimensional. We know that there are limits to our words. We also know that the act of remembering does not have a beginning or an end. Sometimes a memory can pop up when we hear a piece of music, when we are in the middle of a yoga class, or when our child does or says something that we wish we could share with a deceased relative.
The Jewish tradition of yizkor, of creating designated times to stand with our broader community (specifically, Yom Kippur, Shmini Atzeret, Passover, Shavuot and the Hebrew anniversary of the death) to remember, to say the kaddish, and to light a candle that burns for 24 hours in our home is, I believe, a brilliant effort within our tradition to provide some container, some invitation for public sharing of memory. When the yizkor (memory) candle is lit in my home, my children come and give me a hug, they ask a question, and I feel more comfortable sharing a memory. Sometimes these days we also walk to a bench in Central Park which we named in honor of my mother, other times they join me in synagogue, other times we don’t do anything publicly except light the candle.
I encourage and invite all of you to think about creating opportunities for sharing memories in your homes. Not just sad memories, but memories of fun times you may have enjoyed this past summer, or when your child took their first steps. Children love to hear stories about themselves and also stories about when you were a child. Look at photo albums, tell stories, dive into your children’s vast repository of their own memories. These memories are deep, evocative, and some may stay with them for a lifetime.
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
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