iopele:

piratetokensandsecretpotions:

alternativetodiscourse:

I’ve been thinking a lot about compassion in Judaism, and being kind. In that light, I would like everyone to know that my current favorite Jewish supernatural headcanon is that, instead of driving vampires away with crosses or stakes through the heart, we say the Mourner’s Kaddish for them. I mean, that’s just so adorable. You see this threatening undead creature, and instead of yelling murder, you feel bad for them, and you mourn for them. Imagine being a vampire at the receiving end of that, having been chased away for years and years and told you’re a monster when you come across someone who sees you and your existence and accepts that you’re in a pretty bad place and offers help in the best way they can. I’m actually tearing up about this a little. If someone adds to this post I’ll love them forever.

“what are they doing?” 

“

Yit’gadal v’yit’kadash sh’mei raba...

The murmurs started out quiet, hidden behind loaded shelves of an empty warehouse. The smell of musk and soggy cardboard almost being potent enough to mask the reek of fear, the hesitance and tension coming close to smoothing the beat of a quickened pulse. 

“B’al’ma di v’ra khir’utei…”

With each word spilled it got louder, loud enough to trace to one place, a small corner riddled with cobwebs and dust, mouse droppings and old nails never used. Apart from the creepish details, it housed a small, overly shaken man, one who showed fear, but also a heart breaking sadness. His wide eyes gleaming with tears, but not one’s of panic, wet tears of grief and mourning. 

“V’yam’likh mal’khutei b’chayeikhon uv’yomeikhon…” 

It was so strange… why would he say these things, mourn for a monster who crazes to tear every drop of life from his veins and bleed him to be dry as leather. A monster that was written about to be a vile creature, a sin in many cutlers. 

“uv’chayei d’khol beit yis’ra’eil…”

With a hateful growl the creature raised it’s fist, wanting nothing more than to drink in this man’s life, but he couldn’t, his body wouldn’t allow it. 

“Ba’agala uviz’man kariv v’im’ru:…”

The compassion, the sympathy, the mourning. It triggered feelings that were all too human, emotions that he hadn’t felt since he had turned. 

“Amein. Y’hei sh’mei raba m’varakh l’alam ul’al’mei al’maya…”

He ached to killed but all that came from his body was stray tears, something he didn’t know he could form. The lust for blood was fading, the urge to kill no longer eventide in the vampire’s instincts. He didn’t understand, not one bit of this. All throughout time he was chased, hunter’s screaming chants and curses while stabbing at him with wooden stakes and dead man’s blood always being shot toward him. 

“Yit’barakh v’yish’tabach v’yit’pa’ar v’yit’romam v’yit’nasei.”

What was compassion, why did he deserve it? This confusion was so raw, so foreign and unknown, it brought a fresh wave of grief to wash over the creature.  

“V’yit’hadar v’yit’aleh v’yit’halal sh’mei d’kud’sha…” 

The murmuring from the man was no longer hesitant and fearful, but soft and genuine, undertones of sympathy and sadness for a creature that had no connection to the man, for a creature that had tried to kill him. Why did he cae, why was he the first to show acceptance?

I know I’ve reblogged this 3 times in a row but that’s because these are 3 awesome bits of writing and I want them all on my blog

the mourner’s Kaddish doesn’t mourn or accept the dead though…

if you want a prayer that does that you need “El male rachamim” or “mi sheberach” and then you would need the dead person’s and his mother’s/father’s name