by Shoshanna Howard
I did not have a Bat Mitzvah. There, I said it, the word is out and there’s no turning back.
Phew, what a relief…I think.
The absence of this event in my life has become a weight on my shoulders, something I’m often hesitant to admit to my fellow Jewish brethren, as this statement is often followed by a moment of pure shame (on my part) when they reply “Really? Wow, that’s too bad.”
Yet, I simply can’t wait to deliver this news to my goy counterparts, as though announcing this makes my Judaism more relatable. My validation for this reaction: it is just a silly ceremony wherein you awkwardly read some foreign language that sounds so odd it appears you are attempting not to regurgitate the meal you had the night before. This is proceeded by a highly, and also awkwardly, hormone infused dance party with prepubescent kid’s that are simply obsessed by how they are being perceived by the others and utterly mortified when their mothers praise their recent achievements in some nerdy math club to the mother of the notorious school bully. Then there are the boatloads of gifts, which is mostly cash that the parents of the lucky recipient allocate to a closed bank account that they can’t access until they are eighteen.
Yeah, I’m real glad I missed-out on this whole fiasco…I think.
Admittedly, these preconceived notions come from the one Bat Mitzvah I attended when I was fifteen and the witty satire of my hero, Jon Stewart. Nevertheless, as I write this “validation” I find myself perplexed by the fact I chose to write this article. Why? What is it about this “coming of age” ceremony that makes me feel like I’ve missed out? I know for certain it isn’t because I wanted to have that extra cash (well, maybe it is just a little), or that I can’t join the 5,000+ fans on the Facebook page “GOING TO BAR/BAT MITZVAHS ARE THE BEST PART OF 7 GRADE!!!!!” without feeling like a fraud. So, what is it?
Cultures all over the world have some sort of celebration of a child’s introduction into adulthood. Whether it is the Hispanic tradition of the Quinceañera or the Americanized (and MTV glorified) Sweet Sixteen, communities find some way of elevating a youngster’s experience of saying farewell to the child they know and hello to the strange adult that waits ahead. There is something comforting about this tradition, it is as though the community is telling the kid that they are not alone in this process. Everyone in the community once stood in the shoes of the soon-to-be adult, they can relate, consult, and tell stories about when they went through the process. That’s what it is, I didn’t need the party, the gifts, nor the first kiss on the dance floor with Daniel Orenstein, though that would’ve been quite comical. I needed the community recognition, people telling me “congratulations” on taking my first steps to being a grown-up, to being a part of the adult Jewish community. That’s not to say I feel it is necessary to have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah to be a part of the Jewish community, I’m purely praising the symbolism that comes with this ritual. Exiting childhood represents taking on responsibility, developing a deeper understanding of one’s self, and finding a place in the greater community. The ceremony, the tradition, the culture–that’s what seems important to me when I think of a Bat Mitzvah. They are aspects of my emergence into adulthood that I didn’t get the opportunity to experience.
Though my chance for a proper and timely Bat Mitzvah has slipped away, I believe I may rectify this and announce that I shall be having one of these glorious ceremonies to praise my current state of involvement in the adult Jewish world. Check your mailbox, you will undoubtedly be receiving a rather tardy invitation to my official Bat Mitzvah. Let the party begin.
Read more posts from Issue #13: Bar Mitzvah Season.
Photo by CarbonNYC, licensed under Creative Commons.
Tags: bat mitzvah, jew, jewish, ritual
Posted by Emily.Comisar@birthrightisraelnext.org, Friday, May 14th, 2010, 12:04 am, Bar Mitzvah Season.
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Week 11: Nice Jewish Girl No More
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Week 8: Black Jew Syndrome
Week 7: Non-Negotiables and Nice-to-Haves
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I will keep checking my mail box for that invitation. And I will plant a tree in Israel in your name. You can water it next time you’re there.
Poooor Shoshanna, just kidding. As one of the bat-mitzvah-less Jewish women running around I feel you on this. This is a great article. Thanks for sharing.