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Home
and Family
The Bas Mitzva Issue
We would like to deal with the question of Bas Mitzva from
three aspects and ask for readers' comments for coming
issues.
LAST WEEK I had the privilege of attending my granddaughter's
class Bas Mitzva celebration. It was three hours of pure
spiritual elevation, nachas and nachas ruach.
Held in an auditorium, it was a wonderful experience in which
some 200 Bais Yaakov future mothers and their
mothers/grandmothers celebrated their coming of age and
accepting, so graciously, their new yoke of mitzvos.
There was a beautiful choir which sang original songs with a
very thought-provoking message, made a presentation, and
listened to messages from teachers that, if not remembered
verbatim, will remain in their hearts and subconscious
memories for the years to come.
My granddaughter will not be twelve for another four months,
but it makes no difference. When her birthday comes around,
she will be ready for her new role, BE'H: to be a good Jewish
daughter and make her people proud. She will have no need for
lavish celebrations of mountains of food and gifts and a
great to-do. It will come quietly, modestly,
aristocratically.
LAST MONTH I had an article submitted to the paper on Bas
Mitzva celebrations for the home. I prepared it for
publication since I felt that as some people were going to
celebrate this event, anyway, why not give it the right
touch<196>to do so in the home, keep the externals to a
minimum, to downplay the material aspects and play up the
positive, spiritual significance of the event.
The paper rejected the article. This was not the Yated line,
not its outlook. Being three weeks wiser now and one REAL Bas
Mitzva celebration more experienced, I thoroughly concur with
that decision, as I really had to begin with. Perhaps I
needed the contrast between the two presentations to get my
bearings straight.
Which brings us to a letter and article I found in my mailbox
this morning from a reader in Betar:
DEAR EDITOR,
In the 21 Shevat edition, you requested material from
amateurs, so here it is. I would love comments. [To our
readers, the following is not amateurish in the least, and
we, too, would like your impressions and comments.]
As you can see from the enclosed letter, my non-frum niece is
`making' her Bas Mitzva. Although my daughters did not
obviously have any public demonstration when they were Bas
Mitzva [I gather she excludes a school celebration], nor did
I or they feel a lack, I wanted to try to find the merit in
my niece's situation. I am worried that my not stating our
outlook about Bas Mitzva might cause my niece confusion, but
I feel that the need to make a positiive connection outweighs
the risk. She is going to have it anyway, so I can at least
be `there' if/when she is ready to question. The lines will
be open.
It would be nice to see a discussion in the paper of how to
keep lines open to our non-religious friends, relatives and
neighbors. Thanks for the interesting articles in the Family
section. It's always the first thing I read when I get the
paper. [Thanks to you, B.K. Now you're part of it, too.]
Dear Heather Michelle (Yeta Merigolda),
Although the world is getting smaller, communication- wise,
we are still quite far from each other. With the celebration
of your Bas Mitzva coming up, we feel it even more so.
Growing up, I always had an ideal of what a great- aunt
should be (a compilation of all my aunts, I guess), and yet,
I don't think I have fulfilled even my first criterium, to
know you, my niece. As you know, we live very different
lives, being religious, living in Eretz Yisroel, having such
a large family (at least by American standards) and so on.
I'm always afraid that you look at us as aliens, so
unfamiliar to your life. Yet at this point in time, when you
are now accepting the yoke of your heritage, I feel a need to
reconnect and let you know who we are and to know more about
you.
The teen-age years are exciting, turbulent, confusing and
filled with growing self-awareness. In the orthodox world,
girls are Bas-Mitzva-ed at twelve. The Torah says they are
more mature than boys, as you have probably noticed already.
In this year, not only does your body change, but also your
outlook on life; your own self image is also being redefined.
This is a time in your life when you begin to choose your own
goals and ambitions. These are important years.
It's not like you are playing house like a child and just
role-modeling what you saw being done by the adults around
you. You are now setting up the foundations of what you will
really be as an adult. You are now learning the skills of
work, friendships and other ideals. In these times you will
test previous conceptions and find new ones. The values and
ethical principles that your parents have given you are your
strengths and goal posts. Your Bat Mitzva is the beginning of
recognizing these goals posts, the Jewish outlook of life,
and making it part of your being.
I know you probably think that because we are Orthodox, our
lives are difficult with so many rules to follow. But we
think the opposite. Growing up in a non-Jewish environment,
you have to be very strong to maintain your difference and
recognize what your heritage is, as opposed to that of your
Christian neighbors. Your choice to make a public declaration
of your Bas Mitzva has shown your pride in being a Jew and
has set you apart and above mundane matters. You are part of
a proud nation. You are like a princess among civilians, and
as part of the royal family, you have different rules. More
is expected of you. The world judges you by different
standards. Your Bas Mitzva means that you need to live by
higher expectations.
You have probably heard this story before; it is family
tradition. You and your cousin, Yocheved Merigolda, are named
after the same ancestress, your great-great-grandmother
Merigolda. She came to America as a young girl without
parents; only an older brother accompanied her.
In those days, everyone worked seven days a week. No one took
Shabbos off, for it entailed being fired from work week to
work week. Merigolda found a job at a garment factory, like
most Jewish women in those days. It was called the Triangle
Shirtwaist Factory. When her brother found out that she would
have to work seven days a week, he was horrified.
"How can you work on Shabbos? What would Mother think?"
Merigolda couldn't reconcile her mother's disappointment and
quit. A week later, the factory had a disastrous fire in
which one hundred and forty-six women were killed. It changed
history, for building codes, labor laws and the power of
labor unions were changed forever after. In the merit of
Shabbos and honoring her mother, Merigolda's life was saved
and you were able to come about. You see, we think WE keep
Shabbos, but it is really Shabbos that keeps US.
Among the music, gifts and guests, I am sure that you will
realize the solemnity of this occasion. We just wanted you to
know that we are proud of you, love and miss you.
MAZEL TOV.
Love,
Your aunt.
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