This story, as the title indicates, includes the Hebrew prayer traditionally said at times of mourning, the Kaddish. Now, I will freely admit that I do not speak Hebrew, and borrowed the phonetic translation found below from a web page on the subject; any mistakes are therefore mine, because I'm too lazy a bum to go to the library and look it up. At any rate, I hope you enjoy the story. You don't have to be a fan of my Arleccino Timeline stories to enjoy it; in fact, even if you are, this is a character I've never touched on before, but others will be, in the near future -- RIGHT, Duey? >;-D Okay. Sit down, have some popcorn and coffee, and enjoy the show . . . . ========================== The man stands, white hair swept back, looking down at the floor. He will not look at the rabbi. He will not look at the cantor, or at either of his daughters, one on his left, one on his right. He will not look at his closest friend, who stands beside his elder daughter, looking somber, letting the gray in his hair and beard show. His daughters are speaking beside him now. He knows he should be speaking too, but he cannot. He has not prayed in nearly sixty years. "Yisgadal v'yiskadash s'may rabo, B'ol mo dee'vro birusay, v'yam lcch malhusay, B'hayayhon uvyomay bon, uvhayay d'hol bays yisroayl, Baagolo uviz'man koreev, v'imru --" "Omayn," the others all intone. He will not cry today. He will not dishonor Pietro so. Nor will he pray this prayer, this prayer glorifiying a God who didn't care enough to save his parents, to save his son, to spare Magda from the ravages of age that he himself had been spared -- "Y'hay sh'may rabo m'vorah, l'olam ulolmay olmayo," they say. "Yisborah v'yishtabah, v'yispoar v'yisromam, V'yis na say v'yishadar, V'yis a leh v'yis halal sh'may d'kud so b'rib hu." It is a sham, he insists to himself, a sham and nothing more. He will not weep, even before his children, or dear faithful Sidney. He will NOT. They are all speaking again. "L'ayio min kol birhoso v;'sheeroso, Tushb'hoso v'ncbehmoso, daamccron b'olmo, Vimru omayn." His daughters speak alone, and he can see from the corner of his eyes that Anya is crying. She was always so protective of Pietro. Her tears are flowing, now, and he wishes he could reach out to her . . . . but now is not the time. Now is not the place. "Y'hay sh'lomo rabo min sh'mayo, V'hayeem olaynu v'al kol yisroayl v'imru omayn," his daughters say. They all speak, then, and with a start, as he feels the tears begin to trickle down his own face, to his own surprise he hears his own voice whispering along with them. "Ose sholom himromov hu yaase sholom Olaynu v'al kol yisroayl v'imru omayn." Thirteen heads bow. Even his. For the first time in nearly sixty years. Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen. May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity. Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen. May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen. He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen. Yours, Falstaff (gypsys_beloved@yahoo.com) (arleccino@usa.net) Take your pick! "Oh, to hell with this. I'm not going around calling you 'Midnighter' all the time . . . . look at Angie. ANGIE has a proper name." -- Jenny Sparks, in "The Authority" by Warren Ellis ____________________________________________________________________ Get free e-mail and a permanent address at http://www.netaddress.com/?N=1