Drinking from a Yahrzeit Glass

Almost every immigrant Jewish family of the last century set their tables with identical sets of drinking glasses.  These were the three inch high, unadorned, straight-sided glasses that used to have candles in them, the diminutive holders for the ritual yarhzeit candles that were lit on the anniversary of a loved one's death, and that burned straight for 25 hours.

In the Reduce, Re-use, Recycle department, our grandmothers were masters at re-using. It never occurred to them to throw away perfectly good packaging once the product was used up, even if the product dipped into the realm of death.

Even more, back in those days, matched-set drinking glasses were given away as promotional items by gas stations, and jelly was sold in Flintstone patterned jars that could be used as drinking glasses when the jelly was all gone. Getting your drinking glasses for free and building your inventory one by one was a cultural norm.

Still and all, I found it creepy that all my friends' grandparents would drink their shot of morning  juice out of a glass that commemorated the dead. Such a casual approach to the presence of death, this gentle, constant meal-time reminder of the fleeting nature of life, was something I found, well, macabre. Perhaps on Halloween, just for fun. And maybe, maybe Rosh Hashanah. But not the rest of the year.

Years later, when it sadly came my time to burn a yahrzeit candle, the kind I found in the stores mostly came in waxed cardboard containers. I didn't have to think about what to do with them once they were empty. I threw them away.

But this year, the candles on the store shelves were once again glass. So now I have a dilemma. What do I do with this perfectly serviceable carcass of a memorial candle?

Perhaps it is my age, perhaps it is all the memories held by that flickering light, perhaps my aversion to waste, but all of a sudden, I am thinking, hm, maybe, just maybe, I should keep and use this glass?

It is not so bad, after all, to be gently reminded of the fragility of life; not so bad to have daily reminders of all the people whose features you inherited, who filled your days and taught you life's most enduring lessons; not so bad to be nudged as you embark on your day's journey to think about the flickering legacy you want to leave when your time has come.

For now, the yahrzeit glass is in the dishwasher.  I'm still not sure what I will do when I take it out.