My Bat Mitzvah Drash

It seems that I never posted my bat mitzvah drash. Here it is:

My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.

Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.

Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.

From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.

The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.

The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."

The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.

Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.

I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.