Poem of the Week

The Rented Bar Mitzvah
.
Your rented Torah rolls open
Before you as you pause,
Hoping not to lose your place.
.
Hours spent, tutored in Hebrew
You still can’t wrap your tongue
Around the missing vowels.
.
Are you doing this
In praise of Adoni
Or to fulfill your parent’s needs?
.
Months of rehearsals,
Hours of memorization;
You wish yourself elsewhere.
.
They are your parent’s friends,
Not a congregation, not a community.
Their piercing eyes make you shiver.
.
This is your time to shine,
Prove you can walk into manhood.
You trip and fall on the Psalm’s words.
.
Your yarmulke slips
Further south on your head.
You want to hide beneath your prayer shawl.
.
Garlic sauce smells remind you
That this is no synagogue.
Welcome to the 21st Century rented Bar Mitzvah!