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Lifecycles
For anyone who never had a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, or who is finding their way back to Jewish practice as an adult. There is nothing to make up for, and there is a great deal available.
This is the part worth reading first, because a lot of people carry the opposite belief for decades.
A Jewish boy becomes bar mitzvah at thirteen and a Jewish girl becomes bat mitzvah at twelve, counted on the Hebrew calendar. It happens on the birthday. It requires no ceremony, no synagogue, no tutor, no party and no parental involvement of any kind. A child in a country where Judaism was illegal became bar mitzvah on schedule. A child whose family had drifted away entirely became bar mitzvah on schedule. So did you.
There is therefore no missing status, nothing that lapsed, and no deficit to be made up. What you may not have had is the moment — the aliyah, the room, the people, the being marked. That is a real thing to have missed, and it is one of the few things in life that can simply be had later, in full, at any age.
Some of the routes, none of which require an explanation:
You grew up in the Soviet Union, or your parents did, and this was not available. There was no bar mitzvah to have. A large part of this community is in exactly that position, and if it is easier to start in Russian, there is a whole programme in Russian — classes, dinners, a library — on this page.
Your family was Jewish but not observant, and it never came up. This is the most common story in the South Bay by a wide margin.
You are one Jewish parent’s child and the Jewish half of the family was the quiet one.
A parent died and you found yourself in a synagogue every morning saying Kaddish, and discovered you wanted more of it than the eleven months. This happens constantly, and it is one of the commonest doors back in there is. See the year of mourning.
You have children and they have started asking questions you cannot answer.
Something happened — an illness, a move, a birthday with a zero in it — and you found yourself wanting to know what you are part of.
No one of these is a better reason than another, and none of them will be interrogated. The Jewish view of this is unambiguous: what matters is the mitzvah you do now, and the past is not a debt collector.
There is no fixed form, which is a feature. Some of the shapes people choose:
For a woman, the day is built from the mitzvot themselves rather than at the Torah: candle lighting, a d’var Torah, a siyum on something completed, a gathering. Many women choose a Hebrew birthday, or the yahrzeit of a grandmother they are named after, and make something of it.
Nothing on this list commits you to the one after it.
The single most common thing adults say on the phone is a version of “I should know this already.” You should not. Nobody is born knowing it, most of the people sitting confidently in shul learned it as adults too, and the ones who learned it as children have forgotten most of it and are following along in the English.
The Chassidic instinct here is worth borrowing whole: a mitzvah is complete in itself. It is not a payment against arrears and it does not need the ones around it to count. One candle lit on one Friday is a whole thing. A single morning of tefillin is a whole thing. There is no ledger, and if there were, nobody here would be reading it.
Whatever your family did or did not do, whatever you did or did not do, you are as Jewish today as anyone else who walks in that door, and there is no probationary period. Call 408-910-2034 whenever you like.
Yes. It happened on your thirteenth Hebrew birthday, or your twelfth if you are a woman, and nothing was required of you or your parents for it to happen. There is no status you are missing and nothing has lapsed. What you may not have had is the moment — and that is a thing you can still have, at forty or at eighty.
Whatever you want it to. Most commonly: an aliyah — being called to the Torah, saying two blessings, standing while your portion is read. Some people learn to read the portion themselves, some prepare a d’var Torah, some put on tefillin that morning for the first time. Many mark it with a kiddush afterwards. Some do only the aliyah and tell nobody in advance. All of those are complete.
For an aliyah with the blessings, a few weeks — the blessings are short and can be learned by ear if reading Hebrew is not yet there. To read the portion yourself, several months. To learn to read Hebrew properly, expect a year of steady work, and know that adults who start at sixty learn it perfectly well; it is a different process from a child’s, not a slower one.
Yes, and it is marked in the ways the mitzvot themselves suggest rather than at the Torah: candle lighting, a d’var Torah prepared and delivered, a siyum on something learned, a gathering of women. Many women mark it on a Hebrew birthday, or on the yahrzeit of the grandmother they are named for. Ask, and it will be built around what you actually want.
To put them on for the first time, no — you can use a pair here, and people do exactly that every week. If you want your own, they need to be genuinely kosher and written by a scribe, they range widely in price and quality, and they can take weeks to obtain. Ask before you buy anything online.
No. It is not an interesting question and nobody here thinks it is. The overwhelming majority of Jewish adults in this valley did not have a Bar Mitzvah, for reasons ranging from a country that forbade it to a family that simply did not. Nobody is keeping score, and there is no version of the past that disqualifies anyone from the present.
What they are, and how to put them on for the first time — today, if you like.
Classes and one-to-one study, from the alphabet upward.
Somewhere to be on a Friday night, with someone expecting you.
What a service is actually like, if it has been a while or has never been.
Classes, dinners and a library, for people who grew up speaking it.
The practical first steps, one at a time and in any order.
If you want to do this, the whole of the process is: call 408-910-2034 or book a time to talk, and say roughly what you have in mind — even if that is only “I think I want to do something and I don’t know what.” It will be built around you, at your pace, and nobody will ask you to explain the last thirty years.