A Religious Experience

Last weekend, we traveled to Atlanta for my cousin Micah's Bar Mitzvah. Although I am Jewish, this was the kids' first visit to a synagogue. Since it was our family's first time attending a Jewish service together, it was truly a religious experience for us all.

Shortly after I turned 13, I was also a Bat Mitzvah, and I have fond memories of the entire experience -- from the service itself to the endless stream of parties that followed.

But, of course, that was 20+ years ago. This is now, and everything (including a Bar Mitzvah service), must be considered from the perspective of a mom ... who has two human pogo sticks ... who believe it is sheer torture to remain in one place ... for more than 30 seconds at a time.

I decided to mentally prepare LJ and Julianna for sitting through the two-hour service by briefly explaining to them what a Bar Mitzvah is.

Then, I told the kids they would need to wear "nice" clothes to temple. (For LJ, wearing a collared shirt is torture akin to sitting still). I also told Julianna she would need to wear a dress.

"Great," she said. "I will wear my fanciest dress!"

"Which one is your fanciest dress?" I asked.

"My green one ... my Christmas dress!"

I sat silent as I considered what to say next.

Fortunately, LJ took care of that for me.

"Christmas is a Christian holiday, Julianna ... you can't wear that dress to temple."

Excellent, I thought ... he GETS it!

"Temple is Jewish," said LJ. "You have to wear your Chanukah dress there."

Then again, maybe not.

On Saturday morning, we headed to the Bar Mitzvah. And I should note that during the 15-minute drive to the temple, LJ must have asked us at least four times, "Are we going to the ancient temple?"

Once we arrived at the modern-day Temple Sinai -- in our fancy dresses and collared shirts -- we lingered in the lobby as we waited for my parents to arrive. LJ picked up a program for the service and started glancing through it. Julianna, ever the social butterfly, immediately approached an usher who stood by the entrance to the synagogue.

"Hi," she told him. "I don't really know if I'm Christian or Jewish."

Oy ve!

I mumbled something about me being Jewish and her father being Christian, but I doubt the usher heard me because he had to be laughing out loud on the inside.

"That's okay," he said to Julianna. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, I'm happy," she said.

"Well, that's all that matters. As long as you are happy, it doesn't matter."

Excellent advice for Julianna, to be sure.

Embarrassing for me nonetheless.

The kids were very well behaved during the Bar Mitzvah service. Micah did a wonderful job, and I think the children learned a few things about their mom's ancestry.

That night, we all attended an amazing party at Turner Field with great food, a terrific DJ, and much to LJ's delight, an open bar (He is not usually allowed to have soda, so the unlimited refills were a special treat).

During our road trip back to Raleigh, I asked the kids what they most enjoyed most about the Bar Mitzvah weekend.

"The scrolls," Julianna said, referring to the Torah. "I liked the scrolls."

LJ, on the other hand, was still relishing his sugar rush from Turner Field.

"The drinks at the party," he said.

"How many Sprites did you have anyway?" I asked him.

"Actually I had Shirley Temples -- four of them," he responded.

"Wow -- then I guess you had your fill, didn't you?" I said.

"Yes, Mom, I did," he said.

"Surely," he smirked, "I had enough temples."