Writing Assignment #5: A Big Event

As you know by now, I’m a Catholic girl. I attended Catholic school from Day One, until college. I went to Mass every Sunday, until college. I really didn’t even know anyone who wasn’t Catholic until I was eighteen years old. If anyone told me then that I would have four Jewish sons and have to plan four bar mitzvahs, I would have said, (A), they were crazy, and (B), what’s a bar mitzvah? But as it happened, this nice Catholic girl from Youngstown, Ohio, married a nice Jewish boy from Cleveland, and indeed we were blessed with four beautiful sons who would celebrate their bar mitzvahs in due course.

The bar mitzvah of my oldest son, Sam, was a big event in my life. It was a day we had anticipated since his birth, and one that I will never forget. Keeping in mind that I was not Jewish, could not read Hebrew, and never attended a bar mitzvah until I was 39 years old, planning this event was a daunting task, to say the least.

By way of background, when a Jewish boy turns 13, he is said to become a Bar Mitzvah, which literally means “Son of the Commandments.” It marks the moment when a child becomes an adult in the eyes of the Jewish community. On the day of his bar mitzvah, Sam would lead Sabbath services for our temple congregation. These services typically last two hours and are conducted largely in Hebrew. Sam would read text directly from the Torah, the Hebrew Bible, that looks something like this:

ברוך אתה ה׳ אלהינו מלך העולם אשר קדשנו במצותיו וצונו להדליק נר של שבת

He would also perform a community service, known as a “mitzvah,” symbolic of his obligation to help heal the world. Since Sam began Hebrew school at the age of 8, he was rather fluent already. He has a precocious personality and a lot of confidence. I knew he was up to the task. I hoped I would be, for my part in this whole production loomed large.

My role was to plan a weekend revolving around this event. I would select invitations, reserve the hotel, find a photographer, plan a Friday night dinner for 28 people, organize the Oneg (dessert for the whole congregation following Friday night services), prepare a speech to give during Saturday services, plan a party for all family and friends in attendance, find a DJ, select the menu, decorations and party favors. All this would be capped off by brunch at our house on Sunday for our out-of-town guests. Planning the bar mitzvah included everything one would include in a wedding, right down to the cake.

The chosen date was August 31, 2002. One year in advance, Sam and I started going out to lunch at all the restaurants we thought we’d like for the party. I learned that Sam has expensive taste, always going for the shrimp and crab. For once I was glad those were not kosher and thus not suitable for our party. We settled on the Stone Mansion in Wexford where we would host a private party for our 120-plus guests. We watched tapes of DJs at Entertainment Unlimited and learned there is a “bar mitzvah circuit”. We chose a DJ experienced with the musical and dance tastes of thirteen year olds. While Sam practiced his torah portion and performed his community service (helping with the upkeep of our town’s nature conservancy) day in, day out, all summer, I figured out all the logistics of the weekend.

When the date finally arrived, we knew we had done our best to prepare. There was nothing more to do except sit back and let the day unfold, hoping that each part would fall into place. It was a warm summer day and everyone was dressed in their finest, the little girls in new dresses, all the boys in suits and ties. I was grateful to see my parents and my in-laws, all my siblings and my husband’s siblings, and virtually every one of Sam’s 32 first cousins in attendance, even though the majority of them (my side) are not Jewish and had never been to this kind of event. They traveled from near and far to show how much they love Sam and were proud of him on this very significant day in his life.

During the service, I sat in the front row and marveled at the young man my first born had become. He was poised and comfortable. Standing on the bimah, a kippah on his head and tallit draped around his shoulders, he led the service as if it was something he did every day of his life. We said the same prayers that were being said that day in temples around the world and sang songs in Hebrew worshipping God. Toward the end, my husband and I stood before the congregation and gave our speeches about what Sam means to us. What a blessing, to be able to stand before all your friends and family and tell your son you are proud of him. More than a few tears were shed, all in happiness.

After the service, guests were greeted at the entrance of the restaurant by a life-size photo cut-out of a smiling Sam dressed in a suit. Blue and white balloons filled every room and the tables were scattered with chocolate coins. Between the open bar and the international menu, there was something for everyone. The DJ had adults and kids alike on their feet doing the limbo, line dancing, the Hora, you name it. The guests lifted Sam over their heads in a chair and paraded him around the room. Sam was the man of the hour, and he thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

I learned so many things from this experience. It is certainly useful to master the intricacies of throwing a big party. But that was the small part. I learned to appreciate the beauty of the Jewish faith. I learned about the Torah and about the importance of community service. I experienced the pleasure of having a community rejoice along with me. And how wonderful to be able to mark a moment in time when your son becomes a man in the eyes of others, to take the time and energy to honor him for the person he is. I learned that our children really can be independent and trust that they will be able to handle challenges that they will inevitably face as they grow older.

I’m happy to say that we have since had bar mitzvah number two, which was every bit as joyful as the first one. Now I can look forward to the next two, knowing that my kids will rise to the occasion. And I’ll be right there in the front row to enjoy it.




The Man of the Hour