My speech to my son on his bar mitzvah day

Jacob -

They say that the only two things that are certain in life are death and taxes. To them, I would like to add a third and a fourth.

It is CERTAIN that right now, your mother, is sitting quietly, thinking to herself, “Please don’t say anything EMBARRASSING.”

And so I won’t.

Or will I? (rubbing hands together gleefully).

The fourth thing that is certain, is that no father, in the history of mankind, has ever been more proud of a son than I am of you right now.

A bar mitzvah is an important milestone in a young man’s life. It marks the passage from childhood to young adulthood. But being a “man” is far more than learning and reciting prayers in english and in hebrew. Being a man, is demonstrating to yourself and others that you have learned and are living by the Jewish laws and values that will serve you well throughout your lifetime.

In your recent past, three events have proven to me that you are well on your way to earning the title of, “man.”

September 6, 2011 - The transition from elementary school to middle school is a daunting one for anyone. But yours was made moreso by an administrative error. You had earned the right to be in the school’s 7th grade gifted and talented class. However, after ten days of school, we found out that you had accidentally been placed in a non-GT classroom. Your guidance counselor offered you the chance to stay in your present class or to move to the GT classroom. Mom and I could have simply told you that we were moving you to the GT class and that would have been the end of it. Instead, we explained to you the advantages and disadvantages of both staying and moving, and left the choice up to you.

You recognized that if you stayed, you would be in comfortable surroundings with your newly made friends. If you moved, you would be “the new kid” in a new room, with new teachers, having missed the first ten or so days of class that would have to have been made up quickly. Staying offered the opportunity for comfort. Leaving offered both greater opportunities and greater costs. You chose to move to the GT classroom. That choice demonstrated your willingness to make short term personal sacrifice in return for long term potential gain. To me, that is one of the biggest signs of maturity and manhood.

October 25, 2012 - You have always loved and cherished playing baseball. This spring, you graduated from little league and made the transition to Pony baseball, with bigger players who threw and hit a lot faster, and larger fields that had to be patrolled on defense. Many excellent little league players have foundered when making this transition. You were no exception. This past October was particularly painful. Always proud of your contributions to your little league teams, by October 25th, your hitting on the Pony field had literally put the O in October. Dinks, bloops and infield groundouts were your only offensive companions for the first 25 painful days of October. Finally, on the afternoon of October 25th, you asked me to throw some extra batting practice in our backyard. Over the course of 45 minutes, we worked through your swing mechanics and figure out what was wrong. That night, you hit two doubles. One hard line drive to each to the left-and right-center field gaps, and helped your team to victory.

Your lack of early season success could have caused you to quit baseball or lose your passion for the game. Instead, you redoubled your efforts and worked even harder. When you realized that you couldn’t fix what was wrong by yourself, you reached out for help. Contrary to what society teaches, that is precisely what real men do.

November 6, 2012 - Being a sole practitioner attorney, I am sometimes faced with intractable deadlines that need to be met, no matter what the cost. That morning, you woke up to find me pounding away on my computer keyboard, racing to finish a response to an emergency motion for stay of a jury trial that was to begin later that day. You kissed me good morning as you do every morning. You noticed the cases and books strewn around on the dining room table and said, “you are up working early this morning.” I said, “you are assuming that I ever went to sleep last night.”

After a few minutes, I realized that you were still standing there, but had been very quiet. I looked up and saw you had tears in your eyes. I turned away from the keyboard and asked what was wrong. You told me how sorry you were that I had to work as hard as I do to support the family, and how much you appreciate everything I do to give us what we need to live. In those moments, you demonstrated sensitivity, empathy and gratitude– traits that will serve you well as you continue your transition from child hood to young adult hood.

Last night, before the shabbat service, we said a prayer called shehecheyanu. In it, we gave thanks for reaching this special day together, as a family, in good health. In closing, I want you to know that although I might not say it out loud, every day, I thank God for the privilege of being your father, for the opportunity to watch you grow and develop into the wonderful young man that you are becoming.