We headed into the
synagogue/school we have called home for the last 10 years. Uncharacteristically, empty and
quiet, we sat as Stan carefully explained the importance of Henry’s Bar Mitzvah
Parsha Ki Tisa. Henry sat attentive and respectful. I began to feel the emotional weight of the
journey that lies ahead as I sat a quiet observer.
After a few minutes, unbeknownst
to Henry, the time had come for Stan to informally test Henry on his ability to
read his Parsha. And without hesitation or even a flicker of anxiety, Henry
read the Hebrew words as if it was his first language. I tried to choke
back the tears, but I was overcome by my pride in a handsome, smart,
kind-hearted son, that had listened for over a decade to the wisdom of his teachers at Beth Tfiloh and learned how to
connect with the traditions that brought him to where he is today. Sitting in
the comfort of his Beth Tfiloh home, singing the prayer that was picked for him
long ago, I was moved by my gentle Henry’s composure and confidence.
As we walked away from
his first lesson, Henry turned to me and said, “Mom, I am so glad I got this Parsha.
I actually know what I am saying. Knowing what I am saying, makes it so much more meaningful.” And in
that moment, I knew the years of hard work to nurture his love of Judaism with my
partners at Beth Tfiloh had paid off. My son had found meaning behind the words,
and it resonated with him. He was happy and at peace. He identified with being Jewish in that profound moment. A mother’s wish truly fulfilled…and it was only his first
lesson.
May Henry find the road
ahead filled with meaning and love for Judaism while honoring the memory of
those who have come before him.
