Sometimes, reading from the Torah at a bar mitzvah only becomes a Jewish boy’s coming of age moment once he steps off the bimah, and the Torah keeps on speaking in unanticipated ways. Each of us read Parshat Lech L’cha, separated by thirty-two years. Each of us was surrounded by four generations of loving family, crowned by the presence of our sole surviving great-grandparent. And, each of us experienced the death of that great-grandparent – the death of that generation – before the next Shabbat arrived. At first, the imposition of such sadness upon our simchas felt unfair to us. While other kids were sorting through photographs and opening presents, we were visiting hospitals and sitting shiva. It was hard not to feel as if we had been cheated in some way.
But then shiva ended, and we returned to the bar mitzvah photos. And, each of us, in our own generation, arrived at the same epiphany: “Look … she was there.” It was the growing-up moment when life’s majestic marriage of impermanence and permanence first became real for us. Nothing can keep us on this Earth forever, but neither can anything remove our imprint from this Earth forever. We were here, and it matters. In the Torah portion we shared across a generation, Abraham was sent on a journey to a place he did not know. He was asked to trust that his life’s adventure would make him into a blessing. He would shape and change lives. It would be forever known that he was here.
So it is with us. It’s a lesson we learn and relearn with the dawning of each new year. We never outgrow it or master it. We just circle back to rediscover it as we step into the awesome responsibility of writing each next chapter in the Book of Life.
