I cannot believe that it has been ten years since my beloved father departed this world for his eternal reward on High. We still miss him and remember his gentle nature and impressive accomplishments, both through our own vivid memories and the dozen grandsons and great grandsons who bear his illustrious name.
My mother followed him to the Olam HaEmes just over a year ago, leaving us five siblings bereft of both our parents, along with oversized shoes to fill and a shining legacy to pass on to our own children and grandchildren.
So, I am now officially a decade-long member of that club most of us would prefer not to belong to: The Yizkor Fraternity. And, several times each year, I glance wistfully at the more fortunate daveners as they quickly shuffle out of the sanctuary when they hear that sonorous klop on the bimah followed by the announcement that the Yizkor service is about to commence.
Unlike some of my wonderful relatives, I am admittedly not an avid shul-goer. When I do attend services, I am scrupulous about arriving on time, so that I do not spend my time in shul flipping through the pages of my siddur playing a challenging game of catch-up. Virtually all of the minyanim in my neighborhood begin at 8:30 a.m. on Shabbos and Yom Tov, which is, ahem, a tad early for me. So, I generally prefer to sleep in a bit and then daven at home at my own pace.
But I do make it my business to attend services on the Yamim Nora’im, Simchas Torah, and the chagim on which Yizkor is recited. My father, z”l, had assured my mother that it was not imperative to say the Yizkor prayer with a minyan, but I nevertheless make a concerted effort to attend a local shul on those occasions, either for the entire service, or at least in time for Yizkor.
We can generally guesstimate the time for Yizkor with an impressive degree of accuracy, but on Shavuos all bets are definitely off. Because Shavuos is a one-day holiday here in the Holy Land, everything is consolidated into a mere twenty-five hours. However, the major factor affecting davening times is that traditionally most frum men stay awake all night learning and then daven Shacharis at sunrise. If you paid attention when I cited 8:30 a.m. as “a tad early” you have no doubt already surmised that I have no burning desire to attend that first pre-dawn Shavuos minyan. Instead, I try to catch the 8:30 second minyan, which has miraculously been transformed into a relatively late one on that very unusual day. But because that minyan is sparsely attended, the men generally daven much more quickly than usual, and the time for Yizkor is less predictable.
On one memorable Shavuos morning, I arrived at a nearby shul only to discover that they had just completed Yizkor! I spent the next while wandering from shul to shul in search of Yizkor. Finally, I happened upon a chassidishe minyan that had not yet recited Yizkor. What good news! The bad news, however, was that it took them another hour-plus to reach that relatively short prayer, while my guests at home waited impatiently for my return.
This past Shavuos, history repeated itself, albeit in an undeniable manifestation of hashgacha pratis (Divine intervention).
I was actually dressed and ready in plenty of time to make it to any number of minyanim in my neighborhood. But an elderly relative was spending Yom Tov with us, and after a late night spent eating the festival meal and catching up, she was still fast asleep as the clock continued its relentless ticking. When she finally woke up and got dressed, it was well-past time for Yizkor in all the nearby shuls. To add to the irony, my guest decided that she preferred to daven outside on our mirpeset, and forgo reciting Yizkor with a minyan.
Because of my experience years earlier, I knew where to find the latest possible Yizkor opportunity, so with her blessing, I headed straight there. However, to my dismay, the shul’s usual location was surrounded by a high impenetrable fence with no visible access from the street.
Fortunately, I met an acquaintance from the next block, pushing a stroller up the hill alongside me, surrounded by her lovely young granddaughters dressed in their Yom Tov finery.
“Do you have any idea where the shul is?” I asked, feeling somewhat foolish.
“They are in the process of constructing a new shul building at this location,” she replied, pointing to the fence, “The caravan housing the shul in the interim has been moved to just past the park…”
Sure enough, after reaching the corner and then continuing past the neighborhood playground, I spotted the white caravan situated on a nearby lot. As I watched, the door opened, and a man in a tallis emerged and began walking in my direction.
“Where are they up to?” I inquired, with mounting apprehension.
“They are just about finished with the Haftorah,” he replied, “They will be starting Yizkor in a moment…”
I silently slipped into the women’s section and found an empty seat minutes before that loud klop signaling Yizkor. Then I proudly stood, with a whispered prayer of thanksgiving on my lips, as I gratefully seized the opportunity to daven for an aliyah for the holy neshamos of my dear parents…