Bat Mitzvah Decompression

It’s nearly impossible to believe it’s all over and occurred last weekend. I wish I could have stopped time for a while and just soaked it in; alas, I do not have that power.

The whole weekend was spectacular. For many Gentile (non-Jewish) attendees, this was Judaism 101: some had NEVER been inside a Synagogue and without the booklet I’d written (and cut and pasted) explaining the salient features of the service, would have been fairly lost.

It’s the anti-climax I didn’t anticipate. Now, on Friday, I’m still a little draggy and I’ve a (if you’ll pardon the vivid description) nasty sneezy, snotty cold, but I am still partially elated at how well everything went. The other part is in recovery! I’ve decided to put my impressions of the whole weekend into categories, to best organize my thoughts but it’s taken FAR longer than I would have thought. I can’t believe it took me this long to attempt to articulate, however, this is how, from my perspective, everything went for Boo’s big day.

1. Miss Boo:
Aside from the parental bias, which I clearly cannot dodge, Boo performed her Bat Mitzvah Torah portions and all the prayers with poise, with skill and with joy. She never seemed nervous, and despite an incipient cold, sang in a bright, clear voice. She was not thrown by last-minute changes the Rabbi made to the order of events and amused the throngs with her facial expressions and laid-back energy. I’ve been to a fair number of these things and if you will again excuse or overlook the bias, unlike many of the terrified 12-13 year-olds who are the center of these Mitzvahs, Boo did not recite her portion, she inhabited it – she knew it cold - with so much personality. Afterward, family members who don’t know my daughter – as they live in among other places far away Toronto – told me they got to know her from her recitation and that they were so proud of her and taken with her poise. Some said they wished they had HALF the presence of mind she displayed when they had their Bat or Bar Mitzvah, and I have to concur with that. I am so proud of her!

The Events:

We planned a full roster of thing starting on Friday night at Boo’s favorite restaurant, a wood-fired, flat bread pizza place in local larger town. Dinner was called for 5:30, leaving plenty of time for us to leave for services at 7:30 and as my cousins filed into the restaurant (many having driven too far and ended up in the next-door state known for lobster), the part truly began. We chatted, we kibbitzed and then, we gathered to go over to the Shul (Yiddish for Synagogue), where Boo would lead the service. Our friend the Cantor had arrived earlier (when we’d taken photos before sundown when the sabbath officially began), and Boo and Bob and he’d had a chance to practice some of the duets they’d planned.

We were a full house that evening, with so many family members from all over Canada filling the warm wooden pews. Boo got up and led and led the service, sometimes joined by the Cantor on guitar; their voices blended in such a way, with such harmony, to reduce me and several others to tears. Joined by Bob, the Cantor and Boo sang a gorgeously melodic prayer called Mi chamocha, which recalls the end of slavery in Egypt for the Hebrews. Translated, it means:

Who is like you, Adonai, among other gods?
Who is like you, glorious in holiness,
awesome in praises, doing miracles?

With a new song,
the ones You rescued praised Your name at the sea shore.
All of them in unison gave thanks
and praised Your rule, and said:
“Adonai will reign for ever and ever.”

We did try, my husband, father and I, to record some of the singing; we used THREE separate recoding devices that should each have had ample space, but each failed, filling and falling useless within moments after beginning recording. Coincidence or not, clearly we weren’t supposed to record it, but I dearly wish we had. The Cantor has a goosebump-inducing majesty about his voice (really, the whole weekend can only be described in superlatives) and if I could find a clip to include here, I would.

After the short service, attendees munched on a spread of challah and cookies and drank sickly sweet Manischevitz (really, it has to be tasted to be understood) for a toast.

Saturday Morning

From my vantage point of a few days later, I have to say that I don’t actually recall the sequence of events perfectly – I was too frazzled (and sleep-deprived) to be as present as I wanted to be. This is what I do remember.

We got there early- Chili was already there – and set out the kippot (yarmulkes) for any men who might need them and tissues and water bottles for Boo. She was adequately set up as her cold was being held at bay with judicious nose-blowing and copious amounts of water. Family and friends filed in, filling the pews as we took our seats up front (see the first pew in the middle? That’s where we sat), looking up at the Bimah (dais) at Boo. First thing, Bob and I were called up to place Boo’s hand-made Tallit (prayer shawl) on her shoulders for the duration of the service. Then, after the Rabbi (think part comedian and part English professor) said some eloquent words about Boo’s skill and dedication, my now thirteen year-old daughter began her portions.

Various family members and friends were called up to do what is known as aliyah, or ‘ascent,’ which refers to the honor of being invited to recite prayers over the Torah. When it was our turn, Bob and I were given prayer shawls (extras hang by the Bimah) and climbed the steps to the right to join our daughter and the Rabbi at the podium. Grasping a silver yad (hand), she pointed at the specific text she was to sing (the Torah scrolls had been rolled out to her portion in Leviticus) and began chanting.

When she completed that part, my husband and I ascended the dais for Bob’s speech to and about his daughter. As I stood beside Boo, I picked off my black suit tiny white strands from the fringes of my prayer shawl that had adhered themselves all over my legs (Classy, eh?). I had decided I would not be speaking in shul to my daughter and that I would instead make a speech at the nighttime party. This was partially because Bob didn’t want me to read his speech beforehand, so I had no idea what he was going to say and partially because my own connection to my Judaism – the real function and purpose of the speech – is not nearly as articulated and clarified as my husband’s, so I felt the subject was best handled by her male parent. So, I stood by and beamed at Boo while I attempted to unobtrusively remove the strands while at the same time keeping relatively still.

Later, when all the different shared aliyahs were completed (done by uncles, aunts, grandparents and parents), Boo got down to her actual haftorah portion and sang beautifully for nearly 20 minutes. At the culmination of her service, a signal from on the dais and secretly distributed (organic, from Trader Joe’s) lollipops were thrown around Boo to celebrate. The Rabbi wasn’t thrilled – this candy throwing is a long-standing tradition at this synagogue – but he isn’t a fan; he thinks it too disruptive. The kids loved it however and all rushed up to grab some, including my five year-old nephew who decided he owned as many as he could pick up!

Following the service, I hugged many, kibitzed with yet more and beamed as I collected things and went down to the social hall where our mostly Trader Joe’s luncheon had been laid out. My sister ‘Ka and I had set up the hall and prepared table settings the previous Thursday, so only the last-minute things like plattering had to be done. ‘Ka had brought cutlery from CA -SPUDWARE, to be precise- made from potato starch and soy oil, while I had bought Earthshell, disposable, compostable plates and bowls made from potato, limestone and corn; at the end of the luncheon, I brought bags of the used cutlery and plates home and dumped it into my compost pile!

Afternoon:

After we’d cleaned up from the brunch, special people in Boo’s life gathered to present gifts they’d made by hand. My twin made a beautiful calligraphic framed B, however since it is also replete with specific details of Boo’s life, and I must protect her secret identity, I am not posting a photo. Our dear friend Sphyrnatude, aka Woody, created a magnificent jewelery box for Boo, out of walnut, maple and cherry. This is a lifetime box for Boo and for posterity and it’s stunning.

Boo’s grandfather made her this stained glass masterpiece:

Our friend Leeba, who has been friends with Bob since they were 5, is a luggage maker and fashioned this antique-style trunk for Miss Boo to keep her special keepsakes.

Finally, the kipah that my mother embroidered.

The Evening Event

Beginning at 6, our nighttime soiree took place in what can best be described as a unconventionally configured room on two levels, with 18-foot windows overlooking a stand of trees. My twin had created the seating chart with the background of a large acacia tree, and that was displayed on an easel by the entrance. The hors d’oeuvres were circulating spot on 6: sweet potato cakes, potato scallion pancakes, stuffed mushrooms and as guests greeted one another with hugs, some of the 25 disposable cameras I had placed on tables began to be used.

The evening was mostly a blur – I was hostess and really didn’t sit still for very long. I did eat my scrumptious salmon – lightly broiled with herbs – and had some of the Badger Mountain Riesling, but I mostly hovered and chatted with family and friends and watched the kids – mostly girls – have a ball on the dance floor, which was situated far enough away from the adult tables so as not to reconfigure our circulatory systems by way of a dance beat. hat a floor show they put on, lining up to do the Macarena, the Electric Slide, the Chicken Dance and goddess knows what else. Prizes were awarded for the limbo and for the freezes and the interpretative dances, not to mention the hula hoops and the musical chairs, but I didn’t lose my mind when it came to the types of prizes to be found at some other such parties: I went for about 80$ worth of Oriental Trading Company things, which the kids loved. Good friends of ours are planning their daughter’s big city Bat Mitzvah and are choosing to not engage in the current trend of handing out ipods, digital cameras or mini vacations as door prizes to all the kids.

Before the night was out, Boo, Bob, Monkey and I would be put on chairs and placed in the center of some frenzied Horah dancing. If you’ve never seen or participated in one, they are quite frenetic and fun. This is NOT us, but give you an idea of what I am talking about.

The evening’s other highlights were a havdalah service at sunset, where the Cantor and Bob and Boo lit a special candle, sang some blessings over the wine and fragrant spices, and bid farewell to Shabbat. Later, Boo did a candle-lighting ceremony during which she called up special people to come up (accompanied by specially chosen songs) light candles and share a moment. Then, I sat down, called Boo over, made her sit beside me (I didn’t want the formality of standing so I opted for the relative intimacy of speaking to her as we sat together, only, you know, into a microphone). These are the words she inspired me to write:

When Boo was born thirteen years ago at home in Seattle, my world changed forever. By the time she arrived, I was an expert at being pregnant but not so much at my being a mother. No manual was delivered along with my 8.5 pound baby. Little did I realize that as she grew, she would help me create a manual about life.

She has taught me so much about being a person, not just about being a mother and as it is her way to challenge me in myriad ways, my evolution is intrinsically entwined with hers. Of course, I have two daughters, and lest you think that my youngest does not challenge me, let me disabuse you of this misapprehension. Today, however, is about Boo.

Boo, kind, loving, articulate, sassy, funny as all get out and possessed of a soul that shines bright and pure. As she stood on the Bimah this morning, I watched her shine, poised, confident and entirely in control of the Bat Mitzvah reality she helped create. Because that’s what she does – she creates. She is a singer – Boo the musical, singing since she could form sounds, constantly inventing witty lyrics to tunes we know, and although that is a family trait, she takes it up a notch. She knits, she crochets and she writes beautifully, but mostly, she knows what works and what doesn’t for her and is ready to take on the active realizing of her world.

She’s a force of nature and I could not possibly be prouder of her. Thank you for sharing her special day with us. As my darling husband mentioned this morning, some of you have come from great distances – CA, FL, and the Great White North, and although our families have spread out geographically quite significantly, that so many of us are all here to celebrate together make this occasion that much more special. Thank you.

Boo, I love you. Quite simply, you rock my world.

The whole thing was a great experience and I am still mulling over the many, many impressions and interactions I had with loved ones over the weekend and on Sunday, when I hosted a brunch for the out-of-towners. I had my 86 year-old Uncle J there with my beloved Auntie R and as we stood around the dining room set she and my dad had grown up with, now in my dining room, she teared up about how wonderful it was to have everyone together.

These kinds of rituals, these coming of age rites of passage bring meaning to our lives. It was perfection.