Introduction of the Kaddish, with Translation

There is a prayer in the daily liturgy of Judaism called the Kaddish. It shows up morning, afternoon and evening, more than once, in “full” and “half” and other forms. The language of the prayer (except for a few lines at the end) isn’t Hebrew but Aramaic, once the lingua franca of the Levant and Mesopotamia, and the native language of many Jews of late Antiquity.

The Kaddish in all its variants focuses on God’s stature as creator of the world, praiseworthiness beyond the capacity of that world to praise, and the ongoing creator of peace “in God’s heights”, as if peace were a substance that rains down. The usual tunes for the Kaddish are appropriate to the words, jaunty and jolly, even though touched with yearning for better times. The effect is adoring and confident, and some renditions approach shouts.

The prayer most closely associated with grieving the death of a loved one is also a variant of the Kaddish. It’s called Kaddish Yatom, literally “Orphan’s Kaddish,” though commonly referred to in English as the Mourner’s Kaddish. The tunes for this variant, though clearly derived from the others, have been transposed to other tempo and key, and given halting ornaments. Renditions range from mutters to sobs to shrieks, sometimes one after the other. But except for the lack of a few lines near the end, the text is the same as that of the Full Kaddish.

Magnified and sanctified be his great name
in the world he built according to his will. And established be his kingdom
in your lives and in your days and in the lives of the whole house of Adam,
in haste and in a near time. And say “Amen.”

Be his great name blessed to the world and to the world of worlds.

Blessed and praised and glorified and exalted and extolled
and honored and adored and lauded be the name of the holy one,
beyond all the blessings and hymns
praise and consolation
which are spoken in the world. And say “Amen.”

Be peace abundant from heaven, and life,
to us and to all the world. And say “Amen.”

Who makes peace in his high places, may he make peace
upon us and upon the whole world. And say “Amen.”

The same words. The mourner’s voice is desolate — but not desperate. The yearning for better times is much more forward, but even here mixed with gratitude. As terrible as the most terrible loss, it depends on the greatness of the very creation which gives us being, and which brings us together in the first place.

(Composed by Saul; delivered by Kenneth L. McLaughlin)