Moments in Time.

There are some days you know that you will cherish for the rest of your life.

Today was one of those days for me.

Over the next few days I will write more, but for now I need some time to absorb, ponder and let my emotions percolate. So instead, I have decided to share the speech I read at my B'nai Mitzvah today.

Good morning.   

Last night, as I was putting the finishing touches together on my speech, I was trying to think of something witty and clever to begin with this morning. But I was tired and nothing came to mind. So, instead I decided to seek guidance from Bravo TV’s Andy Cohen.

For those who don’t know who Andy Cohen is, I’m sorry. All I can say is you are missing out on some of tvs greatest, mind-numbing entertainment. That being said, most of my peeps out there are plenty familiar with Andy Cohen, so here goes. Taking a line from his page, I would like to offer up my mazel of the day. Today’s mazel of the day goes to my friends and family who have given up their Saturday morning to be here. To all of them, I am most grateful. On that note, I must also offer the grand dame of mazels to my grandmother ... who despite being very ill this past week and uncertain if she would be strong enough to attend today, is now sitting in the front row. Nanny, as a thank you for being here today ... I will make sure the coffee at lunch is hot. Very, very hot. Inside joke, I apologize.

I would like to begin this morning with something I KNOW many of you know a little something about ... and that’s Jewish guilt. In many ways, Jewish guilt is what brings me here today. Many of you out there may be feeling the same way right now.

About three months ago, overwhelmed by kids’ softball games and dance practices and carpool plans... I decided I wanted to quit the B’nai Mitzvah program. After a year and a half trying to juggle schedules and all that entailed just to get here every Tuesday night, I felt as if it was too hard and maybe not meant to be.

And then I got this email from my grandmother, asking me for details about today’s events. It read: “I am looking forward to this with such great pleasure. This is a first in our family.”    
I did mention the Jewish guilt, right?

She then went on to tell me how my grandfather had planned to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah on his 83 birthday, but because of life circumstances it never came to be. Without even realizing, my grandmother had reminded me why it was so important to complete this journey that I had begun 18 months prior. Life is short ... and you have to take opportunities as they are presented to you.

For me, at its heart, Judaism has always been about community. As a preteen  attending Hebrew School, it wasn’t about learning the Hebrew alphabet or exploring the Jewish traditions, it was about hanging with my best friend and the cute boy in an environment where I was comfortable and accepted. It was about being a part of that community.

As a teenager, I continued my Jewish education, enrolling in the confirmation program where weekends and afternoons were no longer spent learning prayers and mastering Hebrew, but instead delving into deeper and substantial topics, from ethics to history to modern-day theology. But once again, it was about being a part of a community. Which was all well and good, until about the umpteenth time my parents were called in to the clergy’s office to discuss my “argumentative attitude in the classroom” with the rabbi. Mom, Dad ... ring any bells?

When I went off to college, it took no time for me to connect with other Jewish students. It seemed almost comical when my parents and I met my roommate (randomly appointed by the school), who happened to be a short, somewhat mouthy, Jewish girl from Dorchester, Massachusetts. We were complete strangers that first day, but roomed together all four years, living as if we had known each other our whole lives.

But when I graduated from school and moved back to California, I was unsure of my Jewish future. No more Hebrew school or confirmation to tie me to my childhood Temple, no more shared High Holidays and Passover seders away from home to tie me to my college’s Jewish community.

I began to wonder, if, as an adult, I would ever find that feeling again - that feeling of meeting someone and instantly knowing you will be friends, instantly knowing you share something in common that is so deep it can only be felt and not described. Instantly knowing you belong.

And then I found myself unexpectedly enrolling our oldest daughter, then our youngest,in Temple Solel’s preschool.

I knew not a soul here.    

I knew nothing about Temple Solel, but I knew from day one I was somewhere I belonged. But this time, unlike times in the past, I knew that I had not sought out this community, but it had sought me out.

For five years, I traveled from Carlsbad to Cardiff bringing my children to the Temple’s preschool. And when the day finally came that my youngest was to graduate and my daily connection with the Temple would be severed, I found myself struggling with great sadness and uncertainty. Would this be the end of this chapter? And, like the others in my past, was I going to lose my connection with this Jewish community that had become so important to me?

So when the idea of joining this B’nai Mitzvah class was presented to me, I grabbed on to it. Not so much out of my desire to repeat my Hebrew studies (I mean was there more to Hebrew than Sheket Bevakasha)? Instead I signed my name to those enrollment forms, certain that, if nothing else, my relevance and importance in this community was sealed for another two years.

So here we are today, ending this chapter of my Jewish education and wondering (once again) where the road will take me. But something in me has changed. I can see now that my Jewish community will always be where I am, whether it’s in continued education with the Temple, Taslich services at Moonlight Beach, or even Shabbat dinner at my own kitchen table. I will always seek out my Jewish community because it is such a large part of who I am. There doesn’t have to be a beginning or an end, but there will always be an ebb and flow, and it is my job to decide what direction I want to take it. Today, for me, is more of a crossroads and I am excited to see what lies ahead.

So look out Andy Cohen, because I expect there to be many more “mazels of the day” in my future. 

Shabat Shalom.

 

Comments

[Dawn Lieberman]

Beautifully written, Talia. I moved to San Diego when my daughter was 3, and the JCC Preschool was my link to Jewish life. I am 100% sure that in her 4 years there, I learned much more about being Jewish than she did. :) Mazel Tov!!

Dawn Lieberman