Learning From My 13 Year Old Self
Parashat Tetzaveh, what I said upon becoming Bat Mitzvah, and what sacrifice means today
Friends, this week is particularly special because this week we read Parashat Tetzaveh. This is the parasha the Jewish world read on March 6, 2004. And that was the Shabbat that I stood in front of my community and celebrated becoming Bat Mitzvah. So what did I say? What did I believe? Let’s find out what 13 year old Meg has to teach. The following is an excerpt from my Bat Mitzvah D’var Torah:
As Delivered on March 6, 2004 at Temple Sinai in Oakland, California
“In this portion, Aaron has to sacrifice oxen and rams in order to become a priest. Today, not many of us sacrifice oxen or rams, but we do make sacrifices. Everyone in this room makes sacrifices, maybe to save money or time. We make sacrifices so we are able to do the things we would like to do, because it is the right thing to do, and sometimes we don’t even choose to make those sacrifices, we are forced to make them.
For example, I play soccer as many of you know. But what you may not know is that playing soccer for me is not just getting into uniform and driving to games. I sacrifice sleepovers, I sacrifice homework hours (not that I’m really upset about it) I sacrifice events with my family and I sacrifice time with my friends. But I do all of this because it makes me happy. This sounds to you like something awful, I know. Sometimes I feel that way too, but this is what I love to do. I am like Aaron in my Torah portion. My heart is taking me somewhere and even if it isn’t where I finally end up, for right now it is where I need to be and sacrifice is the only way to get there. That was an example of a sacrifice made for enjoyment.
Sacrifices are also made because it is the right thing to do. This has to do with ethics and morals. Let’s say that you are invited to Suzy’s birthday party on Monday. You RSVP and tell her that you are coming and she is very excited. On Tuesday, you get an invitation for Jack’s dance party the exact same time and day as Suzy’s party. This looks like it will be a lot more fun than Suzy’s party and you really want to go. However, you already RSVPed to Suzy. You sacrificed Jack’s party because you already told Suzy you would go and it was the right thing to do. Even though it was the right thing to do, saying no to something that you really want is extremely hard.
Sacrifice seems terrible but by definition it is a deliberate incurring of a small loss for a big gain. Sacrifice always end with a profit. I pray for you all that your sacrifices lead to a happier place with a bigger result, just like Aaron.”
Upon first reading my words from 18 years ago, I was impressed with how well I understood delayed gratification (maybe better than I do now) and how clear I was about what was “right and wrong.” There is also a notable blend of self-denial and self-centering – I sacrificed time with friends because I wanted to play soccer but also, sacrificed which party I want to go to in order to keep my word to my friends. Seems arbitrary, no? The “bigger gain” in the soccer example is self-fulfillment and joy, and the “bigger gain” in the second example was maintaining my integrity, I guess you could say. So how do we know what to prioritize and when? Couldn’t I have argued that opposite, that I sacrifice playing soccer to be with my family on Shabbat? Isn’t everyone’s life just a big bundle of tradeoffs?
I’m curious about this conversation as it applies to non-orthodox Jewish life today in the United States. The whole idea of sacrifice is, no, you can’t have it all. Something has to give. The key is choosing what to give up so that what remains is the greatest life possible, or at least greater than if you had made a different choice.
Frequently, in my work as an educator, I see that what is given up is Jewish life itself. It comes last on a list of ever expanding extra curricular activities. Kids talk about themselves as Jewish and as baseball players as if these are equal categories, except that Jewish is less fun. And of course it’s less fun, it isn’t designed to be a recreational activity, like baseball is. It is different in kind. It is a wholeness as I’ve said over and over again – and entire way of being. And if a baseball game conflicts with Hebrew school, well I’ll let you guess what most families choose.
It occurs to me that sacrifice, as in the ancient times, is at the core of what it means to live a Jewish life. In my opinion, living a fulfilling Jewish life means prioritizing Jewish life. There is a cost – you miss out on all the things you didn’t do. There is a reward – spiritual well-being, language and culture, community and joy, preserving an ancient wisdom tradition for the next generation and seeing yourself as part of something bigger. Something so incredible cannot be free.
I fear many of us think it’s free, or worse ought to be given to us fully baked. In fact, it is given to us as seeds that we must plant, reap, mill, and turn into bread. It is not convenient. It is not fast. It is not cool. It is not new. One might even argue that Jewish life is everything modern American culture is not.
Final thought (and if I may entertain an irreverent and ironic metaphor considering the line above), I feel like I am at the precipice of upgrading my subscription to Jewish life, and the price, which I willingly pay, will likewise increase. Maybe I’ll be less available on Shabbat. Maybe I’ll have to decline work opportunities. Maybe I’ll wake earlier. I don’t know – but it will be something. And it’ll be worth it.