I take my Judaism for granted. I mean, it’s what I am. I didn’t earn it or choose it. I don’t have to seek it out. I live two blocks from a synagogue and I see young Jews all the time when I walk through the Mission.
It’s easy to be complacent about what you’re given from birth until you’re yanked out of your happy little worldview, however briefly.
I was yanked this past week by the bat mitzvah of my cousin Abigail at Congregation B’nai Torah in Antioch. It was joyous, but also a lesson in humility.
The tiny synagogue meets in a congregational church off a dusty street in Antioch. If you’ve felt the heat of a summer day between Stockton and Sacramento, on the back of your neck, you know how hot it can be. One hundred degrees, according to our car’s thermometer.
The congregants spend half an hour before the service converting the Christian sanctuary into a Jewish house of worship — removing Christian banners, crosses from the walls, etc. Then they set up the ark and bring in the siddurim. Each and every Shabbat they transform the church into a synagogue. They have a fledgling Hebrew school with a small but growing number of families. Their rabbi drives in from Oakland, and they consider it a treat when they can afford a cantor to come and join them for a service.
The members come from a wide array of religious backgrounds, and the service tries to satisfy their varied interests. They have to accommodate their mutual interests, because there’s no other place nearby for them to go and pray.
My cousin’s bat mitzvah was the first at B’nai Torah under their new rabbi. I can’t think of a more fitting starting point for their b’nai mitzvah program. She was adopted as an infant from an Eastern European orphanage where she received virtually no attention. Her adoptive parents have been wonderful in compensating for her difficult early years. Still, she’s faced some obstacles growing up — she’s small for her age, she’s had some trouble making friends. Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect going into the ceremony.
She did great. She had her moments of faltering like any b’nai mitzvah, but when she got to her Torah portion, she really hit her stride. In a soft but confident voice, the little blond-haired, almost elfin girl took charge of the room. Her dad and mom were beaming.
There were five hours between the service in the morning and the party in the evening, so my family decided to kill time in Antioch by getting out of the sun and finding the coolest place we could — the movies. We chose the coldest movie we could, “March of the Penguins.”
In this amazing documentary from Antarctica, the lessons of the day were spelled out even more dramatically. The film follows the lifecycle of a group of Emperor penguins, creatures that travel 70 miles inland from their food source every year to find a mate, breed and raise their single chick. They do this in ridiculously harsh conditions that this column can’t even begin to convey. For one thing, the males go without food for four months while the chick egg rests under their chests and on top of their feet, a living incubator in 50-below weather. That’s just the beginning.
The obvious love between the mated birds and their chick is incredible. Everything in these life-and-death conditions is more intense — all of the emotions, all of the actions to stay alive.
Walking back into the incredible heat, it hit me in the face. If the hard-working congregants of B’nai Torah are penguins, what kind of bird am I? A fat duck eating loaves of bread in Golden Gate Park?
The feeling at B’nai Torah was different from other synagogues I’ve attended. Abigail seemed to be the daughter of the entire congregation. Her Hebrew teacher sang a song directly to her that brought tears to the eyes of many in the pews. The a cappella rendition was raw and filled with a level of love and respect that I’m used to seeing only from members of the same family.
I was happy to be yanked out of my complacency. What kind of bird will I become if I don’t take my Judaism for granted?
Jay Schwartz plays the trap drums in San Francisco, where he lives with his wife and canine. He can be reached at [email protected].