This summer I will reach an important milestone on my Jewish journey when I’m called to the Torah as an “adult” bat mitzvah (daughter of the Commandments.) When the Rabbi opens the sacred scroll, I will take out my yad (pointer) and read my portion in leshon hakadosh (the holy language) then celebrate with family and friends at a simcha (party). But before anyone says Mazel Tov (congratulations), I still need to learn Hebrew.
Learning a new language can be thrilling, romantic, and life-changing. Like Eat, Pray, Love. Or those Rosetta Stone ads with the Italian supermodel and the hard working farm boy. When I was 19, I spent a summer in Paris studying French. By "studying" I mean flirting with Xavier, a gorgeous garçon from a Left Bank cafe who didn’t speak English.
He was a hardworking waiter.
She was an American college student.
She knew she would have just one chance to impress him.
L’escargots s’il vous plait!
I met him on my first day and, needless to say, I was fluent in French by the end of the summer.
But now I’m not learning a new language - I’m learning an old language, the oldest in continuous use. And I’m old. This reality set in when I arrived at my first lesson, a “Hebrew Marathon," held in a windowless room in the basement of the Jewish Community Center.
She was a menopausal mom in yoga pants and Ugg boots.
He was a septuagenarian synagogue volunteer with coffee breath and ear hair.
He knew he would have just 8 hours to teach her the Hebrew alphabet.
And she forgot her reading glasses.
Oy vey!
My instructor, Saul, was an incredibly patient man. He spent the entire day taking us through the workbook, page by page, letter by letter, sound by sound. Amazingly, by the end of the class, I was able to sound out words and prayers. I was reading Hebrew!
“But you must promise that you’ll practice, dear Patty,” he said. “Everyday. And everywhere. Or you’ll lose it as quickly as you learned it.”
I promised and now I carry my Hebrew alphabet flashcards (ages 3+) with me at all times, reviewing them in the checkout line at Trader Joe’s, at the nail salon and on the crosstown bus. I sing along with Shalom Sesame (Israeli Sesame Street) while walking the dog. I sit on the subway watching Jonathan Ginsberg, the “YouTube Rabbi” who leads a congregation in Skokie, Illinois and offers online Hebrew instruction.
It's going to take a village to get me to the Torah and I’ll take all the help I can get.
Recently, as I was making my way through my homework - a full page on the vowels and the “nun” which sounds like “n,” I found myself sounding out several words: elu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha torah. I recognized the words from a song in the Passover haggadah - Dayenu - a song of gratitude for all the gifts God gave to the Jewish people. Literally translated, Dayenu means “it would have been enough.” I thought about all of the gifts I have been given. It would have been enough to convert to Judaism and to have a Jewish wedding. It would have been enough to build a Jewish home and host so many happy holidays over the years. It would have been enough to see my beautiful daughters read from the Torah when they became b’not mitzvah in 2012. And now I’m being given yet another gift - the opportunity to learn this ancient language for the sole purpose of reading from the Torah. It’s an awesome responsibility and an incredible privilege. I’m grateful to become a bat mitzvah. I’m grateful to become an adult.
