This weekend Bob and I attended our first Bar Mitzvah. The ceremony was for our neighbor (and his grandfather) and we were honored to be included. I was excited to learn about the Jewish faith and this rite of passage and completely nervous that I would somehow breach etiquette. I don’t even know what the latter would look like but I wanted to avoid it at all cost.
We did a little research and were assured that a monetary gift was appropriate. That left just the card. Well let me tell you, Bar Mitzvah cards do not grow on trees nor do they exist in the stores where I purchase cards. After a rather lengthy search in which I considered substituting a graduation or even a Confirmation card, I found one. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it were) Bob found my mistake as we were leaving for the ceremony. It is one letter, but it is the difference between “Congratulations” and “We don’t know if you are a boy or a girl”. It was a Bat Mitzvah card. Nice. I swear I read it and the other cards when making my selection, but having finally found the Jewish faith section of a Hallmark store, I may have been a bit giddy.
It was really an awesome ceremony. The Rabbi was welcoming, informative and funny. The Cantor sang beautifully and was so nurturing as she guided the young man through the prayers and songs. As someone who forgets to bring tissues when attending funerals, it didn’t cross my mind to have any at a Bar Mitzvah, but that was clearly a mistake as I was brought to tears more than once. The service was easy to follow and I only began to stand at one inappropriate point (I was stopped by the woman next to me). Our neighbor was eloquent and poised beyond his years and seemed to be enjoying himself.
As someone who is not a big fan of organized religion, I found this particular event at this particular place of worship very refreshing. The message of the day was to be kind to each other, basically the “Golden Rule”, and it was presented in a way that could be appreciated by all. The Rabbi clearly recognized that this congregation was not comprised of his “regulars” and he impressed me with his willingness to accept that some there might not believe in God. What impressed me even more was that his message didn’t change for those who didn’t share his beliefs. It was such a departure from the rigid exclusionary religious messages that I am accustomed to, I almost considered conversion. But I am really not a joiner and I am way too lazy to learn Hebrew. Instead I will continue to worship from a pew (or bench) in my back yard and in the church in my head. But it is nice to know that places like that exist and that religion can be that welcoming.
Note the Happy Garden Buddha