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“The Next Generation”
Each winter, the process of b’nei mitzvah preparation begins for the next
generation of students. On February 1st and 2nd, the students who will
become bar or bat mitzvah between the fall of 2002 and the fall of 2003
take this first step together. More than 50 students and their families
will gather at the Temple for an retreat during which we’ll welcome
Shabbat, walk families through the preparation process, hold a model bar
mitzvah, distribute and study each student’s Torah portion, and address
the hopes and fears that go hand-in-hand with this life-altering event.
I firmly believe that the most important part of becoming bar or bat
mitzvah is the process itself. The b’nei mitzvah experience presents a
myriad of opportunities for the entire family. It is a chance to examine
priorities, and to establish new relationships with parents, children,
siblings and extended family. For many, it is brings a new connection with
the past, often rediscovering a dimly remembered family history. For the
students themselves, this is usually the most extensive project they’ve
faced in their young lives. In achieving these goals, they gain confidence
and self-esteem.
As the annual number of b’nei mitzvah has risen from 25 to 55 over the
last half dozen years (and still increasing!), the preparation process has
changed significantly. Students study in groups, demonstrating their new
skills for tutors and classmates. I ask classmates to offer suggestions to
each other first and then I fill in the gaps later on. I have always found
that I learn something the best when I have to teach it to others, and has
held true for the students who are further along in their b’nei mitzvah
preparation. It also reinforces one of the important principles of
Judaism: that we are all responsible for supporting and educating those
who come after us. I am delighted to say that many of my former students
now join me and the other tutors in teaching the next generation. Many of
these assistants who began their studies feeling nervous or timid
experienced such growth that they have now become confident instructors
themselves.
Several hours each week, nearly a dozen students and teachers gather in
our chapel to study together. It is a beautiful and often chaotic
experience. On a Saturday morning several months ago, one mother spoke
eloquently to her son at the conclusion of his bar mitzvah service,
sharing her observations of the process. I am grateful to Amy Weingarten
for allowing me to share her magnificent words with all of you.
“For countless weeks, you and I have kept our appointment here at the
Temple for your bar mitzvah lessons. Week after week, I would pick you up
at school, with snack in hand, and rush you to your lesson with the
Cantor. Many times I would drop you off and run to the store, or laundry,
or the library. Sometimes, I would sit in the car and do paperwork, or
catch up on some reading, squeezing every drop of time out of our busy
days. Until one week ago, when I started to drive away and suddenly
changed my mind. I walked into the Temple and down to the far end of the
hallway. There, I was close enough to hear, but not see, as the Cantor
gave his bar mitzvah lessons to a room full of students. For the next
hour, I was transported by sound to another place. I was surrounded by
many voices, all of them individual, yet part of a whole. As I closed my
eyes, the voices became an orchestra filled with instruments, all tuning
up and perfecting their sound. The hallway became a darkened theater with
row upon row of empty seats. I could hear the high, sweet voice of the
piccolo and flute, as two young women chanted their prayers in
unintentional harmony. A young man’s Torah trumpeted in the background,
his voice cracking as he sang the age-old trope. A soft, low bassoon sang
the Hebrew in praise of God. Each solitary voice, harmoniously became part
of a complicated operatic score. And there at the center, I imagined the
Cantor with baton in hand, choreographing the complicated dance between
teacher and many students.
“As I listened, I strained to pick out the voice of my own son. Would his
voice be deep and strong as the cello, acting as a foundation for all
those around him? Or would he lead the way singing melody as a violin?
Perhaps, he will be the constant, steady drumbeat of the hypnotic tympani.
Or maybe, he, like his teacher, will choose to take up the baton - quietly
setting the tempo and controlling the beat, while the others take center
stage. What would your role be in this intricate web of voices and
personalities? How will you choose to express yourself as an individual
and a Jew?”
As a congregation, we pray that all of our new b’nei mitzvah students will
find their unique voices in the music that is Temple Beth El and the
Jewish world.
B’shalom,
Andrew Bernard
Cantor
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