OPINION: My side of the story: A column for my son

Sep. 14—I have been writing and rewriting this in my head for many months. Almost as long as you have been practicing for your bar mitzvah.

I am so proud of you that this column will be hard to write in a way that is not 100% corny and trite. I think my feelings could be summarized in the fact that a family member said I was glowing today while looking at you go through this rite of passage.

Your mom and I definitely were glowing on the inside, as well as with how you handled yourself — both today and in the period of time leading up to this.

What has particularly impressed me is that when you started your religious journey to become an adult in the eyes of Jewish law, you approached it with critical thinking. So much so that you were completely skeptical, if not outright cynical, about both the process and the outcome.

Back when we rescheduled your bar mitzvah to be held today (the date this opinion column was written, this past weekend), delaying it for a year earlier in the pandemic, you would often say you did not even believe in God. Although I do not think you used these exact words, it seemed like what you were describing was yourself as a cultural-only Jew. Essentially, a nonbeliever.

One thing I absolutely love about Judaism is that it leaves a lot of room for just this sort of questioning and religious exploration. I have always felt that a person could be Jewish and yet not really believe in any sort of all-powerful being that at least sometimes has been pulling the strings of the world. So, while it might have been a little disconcerting to hear you declare with such certainty that you were not a believer and did not expect to become one, I also viewed it as part of your maturation process.

I wish I could point to exactly when you seemed to essentially suspend your cynicism about Judaism and to just kind of go with the bar-mitzvah-practicing flow. I think at the earlier stages of your preparation work, progress did not come easy. Both your mom and I often felt like it was a tug-of-war just for you to learn the necessary prayers, and especially the passage of the Torah and a related holy text that you just now have read in front of our congregation in Washington, D.C.

Maybe, in your case, becoming a bar mitzvah was about at least temporarily suspending your antagonism toward this process of learning. You surely did not toss critical thinking aside. I would hear you having spirited discussions with your Hebrew and religious teachers about Jewish ethics and norms.

As today approached, especially as soon as you moved to Cheyenne from Washington, you really became a lot more serious about this entire endeavor. You were more likely to discuss what you were practicing and the rationale in our religion for this than you were to discuss your potential atheism. It was a gradual transition — yet also one that traced a sort of arc from cynic to skeptic to ardent student.

There were times when you would finish working with one of our two rabbis from back home, and I could tell you felt a sense of accomplishment. To be sure, there were other occasions when you also seemed frustrated.

Nonetheless, and most important, you kept at it. You really became dedicated to doing a good job.

I said at the outset of this that I might get corny at times. I think that you showed yourself, and I know that you showed your parents and your larger family, as well as the community, that practice really does make perfect. Truly, in this instance, you did perform flawlessly. Even if it would not have been flawless, you still would have been able to look back at your hard work and say to yourself that it paid off.

As I said to you during the service, becoming a bar mitzvah is an accomplishment that no one can take away from you. People told me the same thing three decades ago when I, too, went through a similar experience as you. I don't think I believed it at the time.

Now, however, I look back at my bar mitzvah, and it really is a milestone for me.

Of course, I cannot say for sure how you might end up looking back on today in many years' time.

What I do know is that I will always feel intensely proud of you for what you accomplished, not just today, but over your years of Jewish learning.

Your maternal grandfather and your paternal grandmother, who both died during the course of your studies, would likewise have been proud. You incorporated their spirit into the bar mitzvah service. By using the prayer shawl of your late grandfather, you had a literal piece of him.

Both he and your late "Grandmom Belle" would have appreciated the person you have become. I cannot wait to see who you will grow into.

Jonathan Make is the Wyoming Tribune Eagle's assistant managing editor and editor of the Wyoming Business Report. He can be reached at jmake@wyomingnews.com. Follow him on Twitter @makejdm.