By Joel H. Cohen
NEW YORK — Despite a recent reminder that a boy or girl doesn’t even have to step into a shul on his or her religious coming-of-age Hebrew birthday to qualify as Bar or Bat Mitzvah, for many Jewish families the milestones have become major social events.
Quite a jump from the common practice in the Old Country where, I’m told, the celebration of the boy’s being called to the Torah for the first time were celebrated by his father or grandfather bringing in a bottle of schnapps for the congregation to enjoy.
More often today, the celebration has become the equivalent of what’s been called “a wedding without the bride,” starting with a cocktail hour, and complete with dinner and dancing,
Jews don’t drink, “except at my son’s Bar Mitzvah’ has become more of a truism than a joke, and the same applies to a daughter’s Bat Mitzvah.
There are extremes, to be sure, such as the Chinese-themed celebration. in which the Bar Mitzvah boy was taxied into the main room in a rickshaw…or the Chicago event in which the quarterback of a local football team started proceedings by passing a football-shaped challah to the Bar Mitzvah boy.
Yet some are much more traditional. Years ago, I had the privilege of interviewing by phone Senator Joseph Lieberman, who was then running for Vice-President on the unsuccessful Democratic ticket with Al Gore. An Orthodox Jew, the senator could pledge that he he’d work for the country only 24 by 6, rather than the customary 24.7, because. as an observant Jew, he wouldn’t work on Shabbos. Recalling his Bar Mitzvah, he told me it was in an era of “today I am a cufflink” rather than ‘today I am a fountain pen.” He said he wanted to do well, to make his grandmother proud, which his voice-changing chanting of his Haftorah apparently did.
In later years, a fellow U.S. Senator told him he’d been destined to serve on the Senate Armed Services Committee because his Bar Mitzvah maftir told of defeating the Amalekites.
A very different celebrity I interviewed was the late comedian, Jerry Lewis. At the end of a long, interesting conversation, he invited me to come to Philadelphia the next weekend to watch him perform.
“I would love to, Jerry,” I said. “But my oldest son will be celebrating his Bar Mitzvah.”
At that, Lewis’ eyes took on a faraway look and he grew wistful.
He whispered, “I think I had that Haftorah.”
Nothing more.
My own Bar Mitzvah decades earlier was low-key: a cold kiddush at my grandparents’ apartment, up the hill from the shul. Years later, when it was time for our oldest son’s Bar Mitzvah, we were determined not to have an extravaganza. But my wife was the youngest of seven, so of course, we invited her siblings and their kids, as well as neighbors, plus people who had invited us to their simchas, as well as neighbors and friends…. all of which added up to an extravaganza.
And, of course, what you do for the oldest, you have to match for those who follow.
At least we didn’t do what contemporaries of mine did to get even with their excellent teacher who wasn’t reluctant to use a cane to drive home a lesson. The teacher’s son was a journalist who wrote Bar Mitzvah speeches for the students, usually ending with “bless my parents, brother, sister and teacher.” The kids got even with the teacher for his occasional cruelty by “forgetting” the blessing for their teacher.
That, of course. was a long time ago.
The future for coming-of-age observances? Don’t hold me to it, but I fully anticipate destination Bar and Bat Mitzvah celebrations.
See you in Aruba!
Mazel tov!
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Joel H. Cohen is a freelance columnist based in New York City.