So, I get an email the other day asking if I am planning to start posting again or am I officially out. The problem is that I have been feeling a bit uninspired. A few months ago, I would have a conversation, see a movie, read an article, etcetera, and I would think, OK. There’s a post.

Since I’ve been MIA for several months, let me remind you that I am: a) not the most “religious” person (my oldest friends were shocked that I had anything to do with a blog let alone one about religion), b) I am a mother of two small children, work Monday through Thursday, facilitate youths groups for Jewish teens, act as the president of the preschool parents committee, yada yada yada, so I have limited free time. And by “limited”, I mean none. And, c) because of my “limited” free time in which to blog about religion, I can only really write about topics that truly resonate with me. Such topics have included chocolate, guilt and Oprah.

So my response to the email was that I do really enjoy contributing to this blog. And lucky for me I happened to receive the email on my way to my nephew’s bar mitzvah, which was sure to provide something to post about. And sure enough…

My nephew is the first person in the “next generation” of our family to become a bar mitzvah. (A rite of passage that occurs at age 13 which signifies a coming of age and literally means son of the commandment). On Saturday morning, my family proudly watched him lead a Shabbat service and read from the Torah for the first time. This very special milestone was followed by a rockin’ party at The Flamingo Bowl complete with a DJ, dancing and of course, bowling. And, he deserved it.

My nephew worked really hard not only fulfill the responsibility of leading a service but also took on a unique and very personal, service project. Boys & Girls Town of Missouri is an worthy organization in which our family has been involved for many years. My nephew’s project was to raise money to help their music program. He even asked that in lieu of gifts (it is customary to give money), donations be made to Boys & Girls Town. He is a talented musician, playing the drums, the saxophone and most recently, the guitar.

I told my nephew that this was the most impressive bar mitzvah I have attended. He spoke with such conviction, and the lessons he learned through his studies and correlations he made to his life, were apparent. I was blown away by his confidence as a leader, his dedication to a worthwhile cause and his connection to Judaism. A far cry from my previous experience in the bar/bat mitzvah scene.

When I became a bat mitzvah in 1987, which somehow seems not that long ago, there was a slight shift in focus of what becoming a bat mitzvah meant. Let me first absolve my parents of any wrongdoing here (my dad isn’t even Jewish). I was the product of the community I grew up in, and my parents got sucked in too.

My recollection of preparing for my bat mitzvah entailed years of dreadfully boring Hebrew school (until I was essentially kicked out for being “too social” in class), studying prayers and text in Hebrew which felt as relevant to me as estate planning ( I was twelve), and generally trying to do as little as possible and still pull it off. That is with the exception of planning the party. And by party, I mean the over the top celebration of me, me, me. Not my accomplishment of reading from the Torah, or my dedication to a great cause (I don’t even remember a service project, although it is entirely possibly I somehow got out of it), or even my connection to Judaism. My party was at a Japanese restaurant. Seriously.

I grew up in a very Jewish community just north of Chicago. On any given weekend of my seventh grade year, I was invited to no less than two possibly up to five bar or bat mitzvahs. And I’m not exaggerating. And these events ranged from a low key luncheon at the counrty club (I’m being a little sarcastic) to riding downtown in limos to a fancy hotel on Michigan Avenue. Thinking back on these elaborate celebrations with themes such as “a night at the circus” or “sports heroes”, I don’t remember feeling proud, accomplished or even Jewish.

So this weekend brought me great joy to see my nephew, a great kid by anyone’s standards, become a man. And I’m not saying that I won’t want to plan a lavish fete in honor of my children becoming bat/bar mitzvahs. But I will remember the sense of responsibility, accomplishment and pride on my nephew’s face that was missing back in my bat mitzvah season.