I couldn’t believe Pop was gone, but in sitting with Sandy and Dad in Dad’s office, helping to plan Pop’s eulogy, at least it felt like we were doing something, you know? Dad’s words would be heard by billions of people around the world. It had to be perfect.
After the three of us just sat there for a little while, staring off into space, Sandy began to speak. “Pop was such a wonderful father. He may have been the president, but no matter what, he always took time for us. I’ll never forget the way he wouldn’t even let a major crisis get in the way of attending our bar mitzvahs.”
“Well, I’m sure he would have had to change his plans if it had been a true emergency,” I interjected.
“Not if he could help it,” Dad replied, “and a close vote on a bill that was near and dear to his heart was something that could wait.”
“Making the Senate wait for a week to vote so he could attend our bar mitzvahs was something else, however. It showed just how much he loved us. No doubt about that,” I concluded with a smile.
Thinking back, I couldn’t help but think of how supportive Pop had been when it came to our interest in our Jewish roots. Unlike Uncles Trevor and Kurt, who were raised as Evangelical Christians, neither Pop nor Dad had much of a religious upbringing. My grandmother was Jewish and came to rediscover her religion when Uncle Cliff, whom I never met, died of AIDS at the age of fourteen. To this day, Grandma attends services every week.
Dad spoke of how he’d attended Hebrew School for a couple of years as a young boy but then dropped out when given the choice. He hadn’t really considered his religion to be important until Uncle Cliff died. It was then that Dad became interested in his roots and the role of religion in his life.
I guess Dad even thought about getting his bar mitzvah back then, but he was always too busy to take the time to go back to Hebrew School. It was me who changed all that. At the age of ten, I suddenly decided I wanted a bar mitzvah. Usually, kids begin their preparations no later than the age of eight, so I was already behind in my studies, but I was determined to become a bar mitzvah, literally a ‘son of the commandments’, when I turned thirteen. I was a good student and I put my all into it.
Not to be left out, my sister decided she too wanted her bat mitzvah. She was already twelve, the age at which girls traditionally become a bat mitzvah, so she decided on having her ceremony at the same time as mine.
I guess having two children doing what Dad had always wanted to do was all the incentive he needed to resume his own studies and, hence, two years ago, the three of us became b’nai mitzvah in a triple service, the first of its kind ever held at the White House.
“We were all nervous enough as it was, but poor Pop was sooo out of it,” I remembered aloud. He and Dad made the best of the situation…
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“… Baruch attah Adonai. Elohenu melach ha’Olam. Asher bachar — something, something or other. And I don’t remember the rest of this verse,” Pop chanted to himself in the Oval Office, trying desperately to memorize the Hebrew blessing over the Torah, the sacred scroll containing the first five books of the Bible. It was almost funny listening to him but I knew he found it anything but funny. He’d been practicing for weeks and still didn’t quite have it down. He’d be reciting it three times, too — once during my Torah portion, once during my sister’s, and once during Dad’s.
“There’s still time to set up a holoprompter,” Dad reminded Pop as we walked the rest of the way into the Oval Office.
“No, Jer,” he replied. “It’s a very simple, short prayer. If you can recite entire Torah and Haphtarah portions, surely I can chant a few simple lines of Hebrew.”
“Yes, but you are the President and you can certainly be forgiven for being too busy to learn a little Hebrew,” Dad replied.
“Even Kurt’s giving one of the Alilahs,” Pop countered.
“It’s called an Aliyah,” I corrected him.
“And Kurt’s a Biblical scholar,” Dad added, “fluent in Hebrew, Latin, Arabic and Greek. He also has a photographic memory. You can hardly compare your backgrounds.”
“Yes, but Trevor’s doing one, too,” Pop added.
“And Trevor has Kurt to help him practice,” Dad reminded Pop. “Kurt offered to help you, too, but you were too proud, insisting you could learn it on your own.”
“And I can learn it on my own,” Pop insisted. “I will learn it on my own.”
“By tomorrow?” Dad reminded him. “I know you hate to rely on holoprompters but wouldn’t you feel a lot more comfortable having one as backup?”
“Tell you what,” Pop said, “if I don’t have it memorized by tonight, I’ll use a holoprompter. OK?”
“Fair enough,” Dad replied, “I’ll make sure Bran spends more time with you,” and then Dad gave Pop a quick peck on the lips and we left him to his work. Eww.
Brandon was, in fact, Rabbi Brandon Cohen, Uncle Randy and Uncle Altaf’s first foster child. The son of an Orthodox rabbi, his parents threw him out of their house when he refused to stop being gay. They’d literally caught him and his ‘best friend’ with their pants down. His parents couldn’t understand how he could turn his back on his religion and even went into mourning for him. Brandon however saw no conflict at all with his religion and, ultimately, went on to seminary and became a rabbi in the Reconstructionist branch of Judaism.
Had it not been for Uncles Randy and Altaf taking Bran in, his becoming a rabbi would probably have never happened. For them to foster him when they did I guess was a real challenge, as they’d just finished their residencies when they learned of fifteen-year-old Bran’s problems. With more than a decade’s worth of accumulated debt from college, medical school and graduate school, most of it Uncle Altaf’s since Uncle Randy’s father was a cardiothoracic surgeon, they were hardly ready to take on the expenses of raising a teenager back then.
They weren’t about to turn their backs on a needy teen, however. With help from friends, family members, and a few prominent gay members of the Jewish community and, of course, with the monthly stipend from the state, Uncles Randy and Altaf came through for Bran and provided a happy, loving home and even helped him to get started on his college education. He was the first of many kids they helped in this way.
Bran was nearing the end of his internship as a newly minted rabbi when I sprang the bar mitzvah surprise on the family. My timing couldn’t have been worse — not that any time is a good time in the life of a politician and not that I had a choice in when I’d turn thirteen. Unknown to me at the time, Pop and Dad were well into making plans for Pop’s run for the White House. Like it or not, kids are important props in any political campaign and, with such a high profile campaign, it was critical that people see Pop and Dad as an ordinary married couple, even if they were both guys. It was thus essential that my sister and I go with them on the campaign trail.
My decision to honor my Jewish heritage by becoming a bar mitzvah certainly put a wrinkle in Pop and Dad’s plans, and Sandy’s decision to do likewise as a bat mitzvah multiplied that wrinkle by two. When Dad started to talk about his missed opportunity from long ago, it was actually Pop who suggested he ‘go for it’ as well, and so the wrinkle soon became three-fold.
It was one night while having dinner with Uncles Randy and Altaf, during which they spoke with pride of Bran’s accomplishments, that Pop and Dad suddenly got the idea to hire Bran to tutor us — and Dad, too. His undergraduate degree was in Education, and he’d even obtained a teaching certificate before going on to seminary. Besides which, we loved cousin Bran. Brandon was able to home school us in a full middle school curriculum and tutor all three of us in Hebrew. Bran for his part was delighted to spend his time touring the country and he really liked teaching.
’Course there was the small matter of the crush I developed on Bran — it was sooo embarrassing — and it was that crush that made me realize I was gay, just like my dads. Cousin Bran handled the situation diplomatically and he even helped me to accept my sexuality. Now he would be officiating as rabbi at our triple bar mitzvah ceremony.
The job of planning the b’nai mitzvah fell on Uncle Kurt, with significant help from Dad’s personal staff in the East Wing. It was Kurt’s responsibility as Pop’s Chief of Staff to coordinate what all the White House folks did, and to plan where and when everything would happen. He also had to see to it that everyone important received an invitation and to follow up on their responses. If nothing else, holding the prayer service and the reception that followed at the White House helped to keep the guest list pretty small. Sandy and I both got to invite a few close friends, but then Pop and Dad had to invite all the big donors to Pop’s campaign, and all their key political allies — and adversaries at the state, national and international levels. We had to be careful to leave enough room for all the family to attend!
At one point we considered moving the ceremony to a larger place, but that would have caused some security problems that we didn’t need. We also considered holding it outdoors as was done with a lot of the White House weddings but there were problems with doing that, too. By using most of the space on the first floor of the White House residence, we could accommodate around two hundred guests.
I’d originally wanted to hold the prayer service in the beautiful oval-shaped Blue Room, but it wouldn’t have been large enough for everyone to attend. The b’nai mitzvah service would therefore be held in the State Dining Room with a makeshift pulpit, or bema as it’s called in Hebrew, set up along the eastern wall. Cousin Brandon could then use the Red Room as his study, leaving the pantry and Family Dining Room free for meal preparation for the reception afterwards. Following an old tradition, our guests would face east, toward Jerusalem.
The reception itself would be held in the East Room, which is the largest room in the White House. We would need to accommodate not only dining for two hundred guests, but also the traditional dances that take place after the meal. The Entrance Hall would have to double as additional floor space for dancing the Horah, a traditional group folk dance that involves concentric circles of dancing guests.
Since today was Friday evening and particularly because it was the night before my bar mitzvah, it came time to say the afternoon and evening prayers for the Jewish Sabbath. Because the bema was already set up in the State Dining Room, Cousin Brandon, Uncle Randy, Uncle Altaf, Dad, Sandy and I, as well as few of our staffers who were Jewish, convened there. After the service, Bran, Pop, Dad, Sandy and I had dinner in the Family Residence Dining Room. As soon as we were seated, Pop immediately started to chant.
“Barichu et Adonai ham’vorach. Baruch Adonai ham’vorach l’olam va’ed. Baruch attah Adonai, Elohenu melech ha’Olam. Asher bacher banu mikol ha’ahmim, v’natan lanu et Torahto. Barch attah Adonai, noten ha’Torah.”
We all spontaneously broke into applause and I added, “Way to go, Pop!”
“But do you know the blessing to recite after the Torah portion?” Sandy asked.
“There’s a blessing for after the Torah portion?” Pop asked, and then he erupted in laughter and proceeded to chant that blessing, too.
“I think he’s got it,” Dad said, but then added with a laugh, “although his pronunciation leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Pronunciation my ass,” Pop responded as he cuffed Dad on the head. Gees, you’d think they were teenagers or something.
“Pop, please. There are impressionable children here,” I joked. I was impressionable all right — I’d just turned thirteen on Monday.
“I think Pop sounded just fine,” Sandy challenged and then Dad chimed in with, “You did great, hon, and you’ll do great tomorrow.”
“Soon, you’ll be taking my job,” Bran joked, and we all laughed.
After we all chanted the prayers over lighting the candles and tasting the wine and the bread, we dug in. Although none of us kept Kosher by a long shot, with the exception of Bran, we were all vegetarians so, except for the occasional shellfish, we rarely ate anything that wouldn’t be considered Kosher by all but the most rigorous of Orthodox rabbis. When we moved into the White House, we even hired a new chef who was well-trained in vegetarian food preparation. Most chefs could handle a few vegetarian entrées but very few were really good at it, which was why we hired someone who was.
For tomorrow’s dinner, however, everything would need to be strictly kosher. It wouldn’t be sufficient that the meals not contain pork or shellfish, or that we not mix meat and milk. They needed to be prepared properly and certified by a rabbi to have been handled according to Jewish Law. Even the plates and utensils would have to be kosher, which was a first for me. We considered having the White House kitchen ‘koshered’ but, in deference to our guests who did eat meat, that would have meant having four sets of china and silverware — one set for meat and another set for dairy, and two additional sets to be used only during the Jewish holiday of Passover. We would also have needed separate food preparation surfaces and appliances for handling meat and dairy products and, hence, the entire kitchen would have needed to be remodeled.
I didn’t sleep well at all that night. I was just so stoked.
Security at the White House was even tighter than it had been under the Obama administration. Just as there had been many death threats against the first African American president, so too were there many threats made against the first openly gay president. Strangely, the first woman president didn’t have nearly so many threats against her but perhaps that was because she was a Republican.
Our guests were subjected to going through metal detectors, through bomb detectors, being sniffed by dogs and having all their personal belongings x-rayed and checked for explosives. Not only that, but everyone who didn’t already have White House clearance had to go through exhaustive background checks weeks before our b’nai mitzvahs. No last-minute guests were accepted.
During the ceremony, both Sandy and I breezed through our Torah portions, and even Dad did pretty well. For his part, Pop didn’t use a holoprompter and he chanted the blessings as if he’d been doing them all his life.
Besides Pop, a number of people near and dear to us gave their blessings, or aliyah, to the sections of the Torah as we chanted them. My grandmother and Dad’s brother and sister each gave an aliyah, as did Uncles Trevor, Kurt, Randy, Brad and Sammy. Several members of Congress also gave one, as did both the prime ministers of Israel and, in a very symbolic gesture of the peace we hoped was to come, Palestine.
After we’d all finished our haphtarah portions, making for a particularly long Sabbath service, Cousin Bran got up to give a brief sermon.
Just over fifteen years ago, I was an ordinary teenager living an ordinary life. My father was a rabbi — a learned man of God, and I aspired to follow in his footsteps. But then one day, my father came home from our synagogue to discover, in a way no child wants to contemplate, that my best friend and I were more than friends. He and my mother tried to get me to go against my very nature and, when I refused, they threw me out on the street. I never felt so alone in my life.
Fortunately, one of my neighbors saw me wandering outside, carrying all my worldly possessions in a suitcase and a backpack in the rain. They took me inside and gave me shelter. They didn’t even ask why I was outside in the rain. For all they knew, I could have been thrown out of the house for using drugs, but they trusted me. What they did was a mitzvah. What my parents did was one of the gravest sins a parent can commit — a sin no less significant than murder.
Being taken in by my neighbors was the first good thing to happen to me, but far from the last. The Rosensweigs were elderly and could have never taken care of a teenage boy. They did not turn me away for the short time I needed them, however, even after I told them why I’d been thrown out of my own house. They may not have approved but, as they put it, having a child is a lifetime commitment to provide food and shelter when they need it and, even more importantly, love. That is the true meaning of tzdakah, of charity, whether you’re a Jew, a Muslim, a Christian or something else — or even a non-believer.
The second good thing to happen to me was when my foster parents, Randy and Altaf, asked me if I’d like to live with them. Altaf had a similar experience to my own. Discovered in bed with his best friend, the village imam sentenced them both to death by stoning. His boyfriend Fareed was indeed murdered and, fleeing Pakistan for their lives, Altaf and his mother made their way to America. It turned out that it was his father’s idea — he willingly sacrificed his marriage so that his only son might live. Altaf’s sister and her husband have since immigrated to the U.S. as well.
Amazingly, Altaf found an accepting community in the midst of the conservative Midwest and he and Randy were out as a couple throughout high school. Altaf never forgot his first love, however, and even made his memory a part of his wedding vows. He and Randy also vowed at their wedding to take in gay youth who had been rejected by their parents and needed a loving home. I was but the first of nearly twenty kids they have fostered over the years. What they have done is truly a mitzvah.
Today we celebrate the b’nai mitzvot of Joshua, Sandra and Jeremy Kimball-Reynolds. The term ‘bar mitzvah’ literally means ‘son of the commandments’, but there truly is no word in the English language that conveys the true meaning of ‘mitzvah’. It’s sometimes translated as ‘commandment’, and other times translated as being a good deed. Truly, the two cannot be separated, and the 613 individual commandments listed in the Torah are indeed considered good deeds, just as the doing of good deeds is considered a commandment from the Almighty himself.
Much has been made of one of those commandments — the one that states that a man who lies down with a man as with a woman shall bring death upon them both. There is little doubt today that homosexuality is not a choice, and so why would God condemn so many to death at the hands of society? I am gay. My foster parents are gay. Jeremy and the President are gay, and young Joshua is gay. A number of our guests today are gay and in loving, nurturing relationships.
Many have attempted to explain God’s commandment against homosexuality, proposing alternative theories of its intent. Perhaps God was admonishing us not to engage in the widespread practice of male rape by the victors against the vanquished, but that belief suggests that female rape is acceptable, which it’s certainly not. Others believe God was telling us not to practice anal intercourse, but then why did he use the words ‘man’ and ‘woman’.
There are many things that are unexplainable in the Torah. Many of the practices of keeping kosher have significant benefit in preventing the spread of disease, but there is no longer such a risk, so why are fish without scales and animals with cloven hoofs considered ‘forever’ unclean? Why is it an abomination to mix fiber types in our clothes or for a woman to wear a red dress? More significantly, how can slavery ever be justified — true, God laid out rules on the fair treatment of slaves, but why didn’t he just tell us that slavery was wrong?
Could God ever condone the taking of a young boy’s life by having a community throw rocks at him, just because he loved another boy?
We as Reconstructionist Jews believe we have a better way. Although we accept the traditional roots of our religion and practice them faithfully, much as our Conservative brothers and sisters do, we do not accept the Torah and the Haphtarah as God’s unfiltered word. We do not believe that God gave us our brains, only to ask us to turn them off so we can follow His word like sheep. We have the ability to reason, and it is a mitzvah to use that ability. Our people have always trusted in science, so why should it be any different when science contradicts the supposed word of God?
God may have given the original Torah to Moses at Mount Sinai thousands of years ago, but even the most faithful reproduction from a copy will contain errors. Given enough time, and there has certainly been enough time, the content must be questioned. What I do know is that our President and his husband, one of our b’nai mitzvah, have been in a loving relationship since they were just fourteen. My foster parents have similarly been in such a relationship since they were sixteen. I am surrounded by loving gay couples, and by straight people who have yet to find a lasting relationship.
Love is always a good thing, and hatred never is. May we all live our lives with love. It’s a mitzvah. Ahmen.
What an awesome sermon that was. I was definitely going to ask Cousin Bran for a copy of it. Following the closing prayers and the singing of the traditional hymn, Adon Olam, we all made our way to the East Room for a traditional Sabbath feast. It was ironic that the meal was being prepared and served by non-Jews, as the owners of the caterer would not work on the Jewish Sabbath. At least the food was all kosher.
After we were stuffed to the gills, Pop got up to begin a round of speeches that we would all make. It was traditional, after all, for b’nai mitzvah to give a speech following the ceremony and parents sometimes also said a few words. No one could speak like Pop could.
Thank you all for coming to share in my family’s joyous event. With my son, my daughter and my husband all being bar mitzvahed today, I feel like the odd goy out.” That remark of course had the whole room in stitches. ‘Goy’ is Yiddish slang for a non-Jew.
Seriously, though, in spite of all the fuss that’s been made over that one commandment in Leviticus, Christians, Muslims and Jews alike owe much to the ancient Israelites for bringing a profound moral code to the world. It would not be for another two thousand years that the world would see the arrival of anything remotely resembling the law of the Hebrews. The Ten Commandments and the rest of the Torah and Haphtarah gave us all so much, and they continue to nourish the Jewish people, as well as the Christians and Muslims, too.
My husband — my loving, kindhearted, beautiful Jeremy, has a Jewish mother and a Christian father. He was raised in both traditions and even went to Hebrew School for two years but, like so many young boys, he had other priorities and came to regret that he never went through with his bar mitzvah. When his adoptive brother Cliff passed away, both Jeremy and his mother had a newfound interest in religion, but with classes at Harvard, the quest for Olympic gold, Law School, clerking at the Supreme Court, fighting for our lives in Guatemala, my campaigns for governor, the House and the Senate, his race for the House and most importantly of all, raising our children, there never seemed to be the time. Wouldn’t you know that it would be our amazing son, Joshua, who would put things in perspective.
How embarrassing!
Josh and our daughter, Sandy, were raised in the traditions of both of our religions. Only a fool would believe there is only one righteous path through which to seek salvation. There are as many potential paths as there are people on the Earth. Back home, both our children always enjoyed attending services with their grandma Cynthia, Jeremy’s mother. They were respectful, curious and eager to learn about their Jewish heritage. That said, they also enjoyed Christmas as much as any Christian child. It was thus a major surprise when at the age of ten, Josh announced he wanted his bar mitzvah when he turned thirteen.
Not to be outdone by her younger brother, Sandy asked to attend Hebrew School as well and to become a bat mitzvah at the same time. In the meantime, I knew that my husband had always regretted not becoming a bar mitzvah himself, and so I told him he should go for it. After all, we weren’t really doing anything significant over the past three years.” Again, the audience was in stitches over that comment. With the presidential campaign, there couldn’t have been a worse time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the newest members of the House of Israel, my son, Joshua, my daughter, Sandra, and my husband, Jeremy. Each of them will now entertain you with their own remarks. They drew straws, and Josh will be going first.
As Pop sat down, the guests applauded and I made my way to the microphone. As Reconstructionist Jews, we didn’t forgo modern conveniences on the Sabbath the way the Orthodox do. I was glad we had a sound system and I didn’t need to shout to be heard, and so I began.
Thanks, Pop. Wasn’t Rabbi Cohen’s sermon fantastic?
After the guests finished applauding again, I continued.
Like the rabbi said, I’m gay, just like my Pop and my Dad. Some folks may think it’s because I was raised by two gay men, but the truth be told, with Pop being the governor when I was born, and then a Congressman and a Senator, and with Dad being a Congressman, I grew up as much with my nanny and my sister as with my parents. No, I was born gay, just like my dads. When I look at the rabbi, I think, ‘God, he’s hot.
Poor Cousin Brandon turned beet red and everyone laughed before I continued.
It’s too bad he’s more than twice my age. Seriously, he’s been a great friend. He didn’t out me, by the way — I’ve never tried to hide who I am. I may be only thirteen, but I’ve known it for a while now.
Today, they say I’m now a man, but I know I still have a lot of growing up to do. I figure it’ll be at least another five years before I’m ready to run for the Senate.
Again, there was laughter.
The bar mitzvah ceremony may be about coming of age, but in Judaism, it has a much more significant meaning. When one becomes a bar or bat mitzvah, it signifies being ready to join a minyan and to pray as a part of the community. It doesn’t mean one is an adult, but that one has the knowledge, the wisdom and maturity, to participate in the most sacred of activities, communicating with God.
Like so many kids today, I come from a mixed family, except for gender, that is.” Again, there was more laughter. “Pop is a Christian and Dad is half-Jewish. I’ve decided to embrace my Jewish roots because of the rich history of the Jewish people and the opportunity to receive bar mitzvah gifts.” Yet more laughter followed. “Seriously,” I continued, “Judaism speaks to me as does Christianity, and I’m proud of my Jewish heritage.
Thank you all for coming.
As the applause subsided and I sat down, Sandy made her way to the microphone.
Isn’t he a fantastic brother?
I felt my face turn red in response to what Sandy asked. When the applause died down, she continued.
Actually, I think he will be running for the Congress in another five years, or perhaps more realistically, ten.
“You need to be twenty-five,” Dad pointed out. After the laughter died down, she continued.
I have a wonderful brother and wonderful parents. All three are outstanding politicians — even Josh is at his young age. Me, I’m not going to follow in their footsteps. For one thing, I’m the only one in the family who’s straight. I’m also not really interested in politics and will probably follow my grandmother on Dad’s side into the practice of medicine. I’m intrigued by science and particularly biology, but I want to do something that involves helping people.
Many of you may think my becoming a bat mitzvah today is something I’m doing just because my brother is becoming a bar mitzvah. Although Josh provided the impetus to get off my tush and make preparations for something I’d long considered, I’m not simply copying my brother’s actions. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve long admired my grandmother and her dedication to her Jewish roots. Her life has inspired me and, through her, I identify with the Jewish people.
It has only been in modern times however that women have even been allowed to participate in the Jewish prayer service and to become bat mitzvahs. Even still, in many congregations they are relegated to sitting in the balcony or behind a veil, and they cannot even be on the bema when men are present. Why then would I want to be a part of that?
Every religion has its dogma and fundamentalists who believe that adhering to dogma is the only way. Fortunately, they are but a minority and things are changing. In the Reconstructionist movement, we aren’t afraid to challenge the status quo, even as we adhere to our traditions. I come from a people with a richness of traditions and an extensive history of which I can be proud. I am proud to be a part of that and to embrace my Jewish heritage.
Finally, it was Dad’s turn to speak.
Don’t David and I have wonderful kids?
Dad asked, to which there was more resounding applause, much to Sandy’s and my embarrassment. After the applause died down, Dad continued.
I am a Christian and I am a Jew. Born into both heritages but without any real religious grounding, I always felt that something was missing. As a boy, I began my training to become a bar mitzvah, but I soon lost interest and never completed my studies. In retrospect I’m glad things turned out as they did. As an adult I have the maturity, the perspective and the perseverance to follow through — also to appreciate the significance of this event in my life.
Embracing the Jewish side of my family in no way diminishes my Christian heritage. Whether or not he was the messiah, the life and story of Jesus Christ have done much to bring morality and God to a third of the world’s population, as Mohammed has done for another fifth. Much has been made of the evil brought in the name of Christ, using the Crusades and the Inquisition as examples. Much has been made of the evil brought in the name of Mohammed through Islamic terrorism. Even the Israelis have been accused of inflicting needless suffering against many innocent Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip.
I firmly reject the notion that there is a single righteous path to God, or that genocide is ever a part of God’s plan. Every man, woman and child has the right to determine their own destiny, no matter how much it may be at odds with our own beliefs. We as Jews can, however, take enormous pride that the core religious beliefs of more than half the people of the world have their origins in the faith of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob — the faith of Sarah, Rebecca and Rachel.
It’s not the differences among us that we should dwell on, but rather it is our similarities that should be celebrated. Millennia before the Greeks or the Romans established the rule of law and a code of ethics, the Jews embraced God’s law and brought the world a moral code that has stood the test of time.
Today I am taking a giant leap forward in joining the Jewish community, even as I maintain my ties to Christianity. With the fulfillment of the bar mitzvah ceremony, I have begun my journey as an educated member of the House of Israel, able to read and recite God’s law and the literature written in the language of my people. Bar mitzvah is not an endpoint, but the beginning of a lifelong commitment to continue to learn and participate in the study of Torah.
It is with great humility today that I stand before you as a new member of the Jewish people, ready to begin my journey.
Little did any of us know at that time, how little of that journey would be with Pop at Dad’s side.
The author gratefully acknowledges the invaluable assistance of David of Hope in editing, Low Flyer in proofreading and Ed in beta reading my stories, as well as Gay Authors, Awesome Dude and Nifty for hosting them. © Altimexis 2012