Making Arrangements: Tools and Resources

Traditional Prayers and Readings

The mourner’s Kaddish is available here.

This prayer is chanted at the funeral, burial, and unveiling:

Hebrew and Transliteration:

Translation:
O G-d, full of compassion, Who dwells on high, grant true rest upon the wings of the Shechinah (Divine Presence), in the exalted spheres of the holy and pure, who shine as the resplendence of the firmament, to the soul of (mention his Hebrew name and that of his father) who has gone to his [supernal] world, for charity has been donated in remembrance of his soul; may his place of rest be in Gan Eden. Therefore, may the All-Merciful One shelter him with the cover of His wings forever, and bind his soul in the bond of life. The Lord is his heritage; may he rest in his resting-place in peace; and let us say: Amen.

For a Woman:
Hebrew and Transliteration:

image from Lynne goes here

Translation:
O G-d, full of compassion, Who dwells on high, grant true rest upon the wings of the Shechinah (Divine Presence), in the exalted spheres of the holy and pure, who shine as the resplendence of the firmament, to the soul of (mention her Hebrew name and that of her father) who has gone to her [supernal] world, for charity has been donated in remembrance of her soul; may her place of rest be in Gan Eden. Therefore, may the All-Merciful One shelter her with the cover of His wings forever, and bind her soul in the bond of life. The Lord is her heritage; may she rest in her resting-place in peace; and let us say: Amen.

image from Lynne goes here

My protector, You are our abode, one generation to the next,
Since before the mountains came to birth, before the birth pangs of the land and world. From eternity unto eternity, You are divine.
Truly, a thousand years are in your eyes like yesterday—so quickly does it pass—
or like the watchman’s nighttime post.
You pour upon them sleep, they sleep.
When morning comes, it vanishes like chaff.
At dawn, life blossoms and renews itself; at dusk it withers and dries up.
The years of our lifetime are but seventy—perhaps among the strongest eighty years— and most of them are toil and fatigue, then quickly it all ends, we fly away.
Who knows the full strength of Your fury?
Is our fear of You the equal of Your wrath?
Oh, teach us to number our days that we may get us a heart of wisdom.

Let Your accomplishment be visible to those who serve You,
Let Your beauty rest upon their children,
Let our divine protector’s pleasure be upon us—
And the labor of our hands, make it secure, the labor of our hands ensure!

A song of ascents:
If I raise my eyes to the hills,
from where will my help come?
My help comes from ADONAI,
the maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip —
your guardian is not asleep.
No, the guardian of Isra’el
never slumbers or sleeps.
ADONAI is your guardian; at your right hand
ADONAI provides you with shade —
the sun can’t strike you during the day
or even the moon at night.
ADONAI will guard you against all harm;
he will guard your life.
ADONAI will guard your coming and going
from now on and forever.

We Remember Them
By Jack Riemer and Sylvan D. Kamens

In the rising of the sun and in its going down, we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them.
In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of the summer, we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heath, we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.

Birth is a beginning and death a destination;
But life is a journey.
A going, a growing from stage to stage:
From childhood to maturity and youth to old age.
From innocence to awareness and ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion and then perhaps, to wisdom.
From weakness to strength or strength to weakness and often back again.
From health to sickness and back we pray, to health again.
From offense to forgiveness, from loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude, from pain to compassion.
From grief to understanding, from fear to faith;
From defeat to defeat to defeat, until, looking backward or ahead:
We see that victory lies not at some high place along the way,
But in having made the journey, stage by stage, a sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning and death a destination;
But life is a journey, a sacred pilgrimage,
Made stage by stage...To life everlasting.

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Forgetting someone is like forgetting to turn off the lights in the back yard so it stays lit all the next day
But then it’s the light that makes you remember

An Eternal Window
In a garden I once heard a song or an ancient blessing and above the dark trees a window is always lit, in memory of the face that looked out of it, and that face too was in memory of another lit window

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When a man dies, they say, “He was gathered unto his fathers.” As long as he is alive, his fathers are gathered within him, each cell of his body and soul a delegate from one of his thousands of fathers since the beginning of time.

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And every person is a dam between past and future.
When he dies the dam bursts, the past breaks into the future,
And there is no before or after. All time becomes one time,
like our God: our time is one.
Blessed be the memory of the dam.

They had no time—the just man
hurried across the bridge,
followed God’s magistrate
along the black ridge.
His grieving wife lagged behind
as if she had no will,
arms heavy with useless things,
heart heavier still.
She couldn’t recall if she’d shut the door,
turned off the iron; worse guilt,
she’d left behind the baby pictures,
her mother’s ring, her wedding quilt.
One arm raised as if to gather
her whole life in that embrace,
tears blurring the view,
without much thought she turned her face,
became what she had shed. Who grieves
for this nameless woman, Lot’s reflective wife?
I grieve.
I know holding on can cost a life.

Additional Poems and Readings for Mourners