Last Monday my oldest turned thirteen. Which I guess means he was born thirteen years ago but that doesn’t really make any sense. Agree to disagree.
We went to New York, just me and him, to celebrate his actual Bar Mitzvah, which is something that automatically happens when a boy turns thirteen, party or not.
The night of his birthday (in Judaism the day starts with the night) we had a really nice family get together at my Bubby’s house. I thought it was going to be a small shindig but my Bubby and Aunt outdid themselves and it turned out to be quite a bumptious and elegant dinner/party/thing. I don’t get to see my cousin’s families very often so it was wonderful to get a chance to meet them all.
The next morning he got an aliyah at 770 Eastern Parkway (when he is called up to the Torah for the first time), the headquarters of the Chabad movement (as much as there is a headquarters), he said the Bar Mitzvah (no, I won’t abbreviate it) maamor (a chassidic discourse traditionally said at a Bar Mitzvah), and then we spent the rest of the day at the Ohel, the gravesite of the Rebbe (who became Rebbe yesterday, 70 years ago) and the Previous Rebbe (who passed away yesterday, 71 years ago). I’m always in a rush or exhausted when I go to the Ohel (I usually go right before or right after the airport) so it was really nice to have a good few hours to just be there, sort my thoughts, pray to Hashem, and connect to the Rebbe.
That evening we had a farbrengen (soulful gathering) with my friends, in which I was so present I forgot to take even one photo (which was all I would have wanted). ’Tis cool, I’ll just have to remember is (which won’t happen, I guess I’ll have to write it down, which might…)
The following day we headed to Manhattan and hit the MET (Egyptian stuff was cool, but if you’re not into it it gets repetitive, weapons were awesome, fashion we couldn’t get out of fast enough, then we ran through some art (Zevi wasn’t too interested), tried to figure out how big the place was (2.2 million square feet!!), and how much it was worth (between 100 and 400 billion), and then magically found the exit), some amazing pizza at Saba’s (thank you facebook for all the recommendations! Though I should have just stuck with the regular pizza), the Natural History Museum (Zevi loves all things animals so we could have spent an entire day here. It’s amazing how much more than me he knows about so much), and finally, after freezing all day, we had a nourishing dinner of hot cocoa and cheesecake. No regrets.
We got back, Zevi hit the sack and I met up with a friend, and woke up at 4 to fly home.
Not sure why I’m sharing all this.
When I was sitting with Zevi, before he got his Aliyah, I felt prouder than I have ever felt in my life. Not a pride for myself, or even that I had anything to do with his upbringing. Just sheer pride and joy that my son is who he is, and is maturing so wonderfully.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a purer feeling, it’s really hard to describe. No feelings of past or future, just pure pride and joy of what currently is. It’s a special thing being a parent…
Anyways, the following Shabbos we had a more communal celebration and it was truly wonderful. We had friends from all walks of life joining, and, well, it just felt right.
When planning for the Bar Mitzvah I was like “it’s not that complicated, we just have to do the things we have to do…”
Thank G-d for my wife, or nothing would ever get done…
And while I’m at it, a massive thank you to my in-laws who helped in a massive way.
I want to share Zevi’s speech and then mine. His was typed out so I’ll just paste it here, mine was more off the cuff so I’ll try…
///
Good Shabbos and thank you for coming to my Bar Mitzvah.
Today, I become a man. Just kidding, I’ve been a man since Monday.
I’d like to start by thanking Hashem for giving me life, health and a wonderful family.
I want to thank the Rebbe for being a guiding and stabilizing force in our lives.
I’d like to thank my mother and father for always being such amazing parents, for raising me, and for letting me find foster my talents and passions, and in general for being weirdos.
Thank you Bubby and Zaidy Berger for being such a big part of our life,
Thank you to Savta for coming all the way from Eretz Yisroel and always having stories to tell.
To Zaidy and Bubby Berkowitz for always being there.
To my siblings for being, ummmm, well, ummm, yeah, thanks.
To all of our family and friends from near and far, thank you.
///
This weeks torah portion, Parshas Bo, talks about the final plagues and the Jews leaving the land of Egypt. Finally.
Now leaving Egypt wasn’t just something that happened to happen, or just needed to happen, It was a turning point in our relationship with the world.
It’s mentioned all over the Torah: “I am the Lord your G-d who has taken you of Egypt”, in fact I googled how many times it’s mentioned and, well, google didn’t know, so I looked it up the old fashioned way, and, just kidding, who has that sort of time?
It’s a lot, just believe me or ask your local Torah scholar.
It marks the beginning of the Jews as a nation. Before becoming a nation we were just a family. Remembering that G-d took us out of Egypt is a part of the very first commandment, and we mention it everyday, at least twice a day, in the 3rd paragraph of Shema.
But what’s so special though about leaving Egypt? What does it have to do with us becoming a nation?
And more importantly what sort of lesson does it teach us now, in 2020. What do we get personally out of constantly remembering it? How does leaving Egypt help us now?
The Medrash tells us regarding Egypt, that not a single slave had ever escaped. Ever. Whether security was too tight, or the weather too harsh, it just never happened. For an entire nation of over one and a half million, it was unthinkable. Impossible.
Yet the Jews didn’t just escape, we walked out after being begged to leave by the Pharaoh himself and gifted with gold and silver.
The story of our nation begins by us doing the impossible.
In Hebrew, if you change the vowels of the word Mitzrayim, Egypt, you get Meitzarim. Which means a narrow area, or boundaries
We all have boundaries. This I can do, and this I can’t do. This is possible but this is beyond me.
They might be physical limitations, intellectual, spiritual, emotional or psychological ones.
Hashem taking us out of Egypt is not just a one time event, where he took us out of a specific set of boundaries. It’s an ongoing state of being.
We are a nation that leaves Egypt. We don’t let boundaries or borders define or stop us from doing what Hashem wants us to do.
And Hashem is reminding us of this, at least twice a day: you are not limited. Something might look impossible, it might even be impossible, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. It just might make it a bit harder.
Hashem is telling us, “you got this”.
Like we see right after leaving Egypt with the story of crossing the sea. At the shore the Jews were confused, afraid and divided. Hashem had told them to go to Mount Sinai, but, this water thing was kind of big and scary and wet, and behind them were the remnants of the Egyptian army furious at losing their labor force.
There were 4 main group— some wanted to just give up and drown themselves, others wanted to return to Egypt, others wanted to fight, and the fourth group wanted to pray.
Which was right?
None.
“Speak to the Jews and tell them to keep on going.” said Hashem.
Kind of confused, no one did anything until one Jew. Nachshon ben Aminadav went. He walked until the water was up to his ankles, then knees. Stomach, chest, neck. And when it got to his nose, the waters split.
G-d has given us a mission that seems impossible. To not only to keep The Torah and the mitzvos, but to change the entire world, and to reveal the unity and G-dliness of everything. In fact it probably is impossible.
But that hasn’t stopped us and it won’t stop me.
As newly minted member of the elite 13 plus club I don’t know what life will throw at me.
But as a Jew, whatever it is, I know “I got this.”
Thank you and good Shabbos!
///
And mine:
Good Shabbos and thank you so much for being here.
It feels a bit weird to give a speech publicly while aiming it at my son. A bit public, but I’ll try.
Estee will do a legit thank you later on so I’ll just jump right into it.
In this week’s Torah portion we read about Hashem telling the Jews to take a sheep on the 10th day of Nissan, leash it to the bed for four days and slaughter it the night of the 14th (and the next day they’d leave Egypt).
What’s the deal with the whole four day sheep-bed thing?
Were we supposed to get to know it, name it or something?
We like to think of things in black and white, us and them, but its not like the Egyptians were all bad and the Jews were all perfect.
In fact up in heaven there was some opposition to the Jews being freed.
“These guys worship idols and these guys do, etc.”
So Hashem gave the Jews this mitzvah, the sheep-bed-four-day one so they should have the merit of fulfilling this Mitzvah and go free with that.
The Midrash tells us that Egyptian used to worship sheep. And when they saw that little lamb tied to the bed they asked the Jews “whatcha guys up to?”
“In four days we’re gonna slaughter it, your firstborns will be smote, and we’re gonna up and out.”
That’s pretty gutsy stuff. Dangerous actually. The Egyptians were still in charge and they could have killed or hurt any Jew with no real consequences. And even if they did nothing they definitely made fun of them.
But we trusted in Hashem, even when it was scary (and maybe even embarrassing) to.
In Hebrew that’s called “Mesiras Nefesh”, literally “giving over your soul/life”.
And when Hashem saw that the Jews were willing to risk their lives to do His will, then that was proof that they would fulfill G-d’s mission down here, even when things didn’t go so well.
Nowadays, thank G-d, we don’t have have to risk out lives to be Jewish and to do what G-d wants, which is pretty amazing.
But what we do have, are people who make fun if us, scoff at us, embarrass us.
The Talmud tells us that embarrassing someone in public is like murder, and even in English we have words like mortified, which literally means “put to death”, and you have expressions like “I died” or “I could have curled up and died” when referring to being embarrassed.
In the Shulchan Aruch Harav, the Code of Jewish Law written by Rabbi Achneur Zalman of Liadi (my namesake namesake, and I have no clue how to apostrophe that), the very first law is:
“Yehudah ben Teima says: “Be bold as a leopard, swift as an eagle, fleet as a deer and strong as a lion, to fulfill the will of your Father in Heaven.”
To be “bold as a leopard” means that one should not to be embarrassed when confronted by scoffers.”…
Our job in this world is to make a difference. Hopefully a big difference.
Anytime you do something worth doing you are going to get a lot of flak. Anytime you really try to change something people will laugh at you, think you’re crazy, ostracize you.
And not just “them”, the “others”, on the “other team”. At some point your friends, your community, your family, they’ll all scoff at you.
You may have found a great group of friends that agree with you, but there will always be times you will disagree, and you need to be strong enough to forge forward anyways.
This is the principle that everything else depends on.
Nothing good can be done without the willingness to withstand the scoffers.
Not that we look for strife, conflict, or controversy. Heaven forbid!
“Your paths are paths of pleasantness, and all your ways are peace.”
But when doing the right thing, we just need to let go of what others think of us.
Zevi, and everyone else, I bless you all with the ability and willingness to see clearly what has to be done, and the strength to do it, no matter who doesn’t agree.
L’Chaim!
///
Alright alright, here are some photos. Thanks for making it this far :)
