FORTY-SIX

WHEN I LOOK OUT INTO the congregation at all my family and friends there in front of me, I swear it feels like my heart swells a little bit. Even the lunch table girls look mildly interested in the service, way more than they did on Rosh Hashanah.

Rabbi Oliker and Cantor Simon welcome everyone and say “Shabbat Shalom” and they introduce me, saying that I’ll be leading most of the service. And when I’m reciting the prayers in Hebrew and English, my mind isn’t wandering at all. I’m all in. I’m not even thinking about anything else.

I’m 100 percent mindful, in the moment.

I read the English parts, and then the congregation reads their parts responsively.

And I smile when I get to my favorite passage: “Standing on the parted shores, we still believe what we were taught before ever we stood at Sinai’s foot; that wherever we go, it is eternally Egypt; that there is a better place, a promised land; that the winding way to that promise passes through the wilderness. That there is no way to get from here to there except by joining hands, marching together.”

I think back to all the metaphorical marching together—as a Camp Silver community that really brought Judaism to life for me, Kaylan telling me that I could lean on the lunch table girls when things were hard, reaching out to my camp friends, too, even though we were far apart. Golfy helping me sort out the drama with that letter.

And when it’s time for my Torah portion, different family members—my parents, Bubbie and Zeyda, Grandma, my aunts and uncles—come up to chant the Hebrew blessings before each part of the portion. They’re pretty much thanking God for everything, especially for giving Jewish people the Torah.

When they finish, they all give me a smile and a squeeze. And I think the main amazing thing about this whole experience is that yes—it’s my day. But so many people are part of it, too. It really feels like a community in here.

Like we are all together—to celebrate happy times and get through hard times—and if we remember that and stay true to that, it will all be okay.

We are a community here, together, today.

Again, the only way to get from here to there . . .

The service goes on, and soon it’s time for my speech. It took me months and months to figure out what I wanted to say. But I finally did.

“Good morning, everyone. Shabbat Shalom. And thank you so much for coming out to share my bat mitzvah with me.

“My Torah portion is called Chayei Sarah. That literally means ‘the Life of Sarah.’

“Big stuff happens in this portion, and there’s a great deal to discuss here—especially about marriage, and family, and legacy. But I don’t have time to get into it all, so you’ll just have to trust me.”

Everyone laughs. I give myself a metaphorical pat on the back and keep reading.

“The aspect that interested me most was highlighted in the name of the portion and in the first line—‘the Life of Sarah.’ The portion also tells us that Sarah lived for one hundred and twenty-seven years and then says, ‘Such was the span of Sarah’s life.’

“At first glance, this seemed kind of redundant to me. But then, after discussing this with Cantor Simon, I realized that it’s meant to be repetitive. And it’s meant to make us think about life.

“How moments, days, months, years all add up to the ‘span of our lives.’

“I think it’s also there to tell us that life is long, but there will be ups and downs. For Sarah, this meant leaving her homeland with Abraham and struggling for many years to have a child. Eventually, she does have a child (Isaac), but she’s very old at that time.

“Life is tricky. We have to muddle through the hard spots, hoping that they will pass quickly and that we will gain some understanding and perspective, and be better equipped to handle them the next time they come around. And then we strive as best we can to appreciate the great times while we are living them.

“Like Sarah, I have had some struggles. Of course, hers were way harder.”

Everyone laughs again.

“But I’ve also had some amazing times. And in many cases, I had to go through the struggle to get to the amazing.

“This past summer, I spent four weeks at Camp Silver in the Berkshires, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I’d never been to camp before, and I was leaving my family and my best friend behind.

“Spoiler alert: it was the best summer ever. No offense, family and BFF Kaylan.”

I look out into the congregation and make eye contact with her. She gives me a thumbs-up.

“At Camp Silver, I learned how to be mindful. How to really be in the moment. How to appreciate everything that’s right in front of us, even when things are difficult. And that has carried me through some really hard times. I started a Mindfulness Club at school, and it may even be a countywide thing pretty soon.

“It was at camp that I realized the importance of community and how important it is to lean on that community when times are hard. I had to be reminded of that a few times after I came home, too, and that’s when I realized I had community right in Brookside.

“I’m proud to be an adult in the eyes of my people now. I’m honored to be able to stand up here before you, and lead the service, and pray with all of you. I hope I can keep up with everything and fulfill all the commandments and be a great Jewish adult.

“I know that in the days and years ahead, I will face more struggle, and I will face more wonderful. And hopefully I will be as blessed as Sarah was—to live a full life.

“Maybe even one hundred and twenty-seven years.”

More laughter from the congregation.

Maybe I should take this speech to one of Kaylan’s kids’ nights at the comedy clubs. Maybe I’m funnier than I’d ever realized. Who knows?

“The best realization of all is that Judaism has given me a guidebook to follow when nothing makes sense. And a community to lean on when I’m struggling. And I hope that I can be there for others, like people have been there for me.

“Joining hands and marching together, like I just read earlier. It’s the only way.

“Thank you all so much for being here with me on this special day.

“Extra thanks to Cantor Simon for helping me figure everything out.”

After my speech, there are a few more prayers, and Rabbi Oliker makes some announcements and offers me a blessing, and then that’s it. The service is over.

I sort of expected to feel some sort of relief, but it’s not really that. It’s a little bit of relief, but also a sense of sadness. Like the end of your birthday. You’ve waited so long for it, and it was great, but then it’s over.

It’s like the minute after you take a final, you just want to go back and look at your flash cards again. It’s so hard to put that feeling away.

And this is sort of like that feeling to the extreme. Because I worked so hard and learned so much and then it’s just done.

I walk out into the lobby to meet my family and greet everyone. We’ll all go down to the social hall for the bagels and it’ll be fine. What people don’t tell you is that you feel so great after your bat mitzvah service, you feel such a sense of pride and accomplishment, that the party is actually the last thing on your mind.

At least for me.

“Ari, you are amazing, amazing, amazing,” my mom says, pulling me into the tightest hug in the history of the world. “Now come on, let’s go.”

“Let’s go where?” I ask. “The social hall is this way.”

I start walking.

“No, come with me. This way. Come on. You’ll see,” she says.

I look around and the crowd has already dispersed, and I feel this sense of doom like I may have entered The Twilight Zone even though I’ve never really seen that show, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.

“Wait. What?” I turn my head to the side to sort of see down the hallway. Where are my camp friends? Where are my school friends? I look out through the big glass doors and into the parking lot, and everyone is getting into cars. Are they all going home? Did my parents cancel the bagels, too? Are we going to Fleetwood for some kind of small celebratory brunch, just family, no friends?

“Just come.” She pulls me a little bit, and my head is spinning with questions.

“I don’t get what’s going on,” I say as we walk out into the parking lot. “Seriously, this is freaking me out. What about the place cards?”

Gemma sits in the backseat with me, silently, pursing her lips together as tightly as possible, like a smile is about to squeak out at any moment.

“What’s going on, Gem?” I whisper. I know I can get this out of her.

She shakes her head side to side. “Can’t say. Won’t say.”

I try to figure out where my dad is driving, what direction he’s going. It seems like we’re going home? Oh no, not a backyard barbecue with everyone at our house. We just did that a month ago.

“Dad, where are we going?” I ask.

For the first time in so long I hear emotion and feeling in his voice. “I am so beyond proud of you, Arianna Simone.”

That chokes me up; I’ll admit it. But it doesn’t really answer the question.