Blending tradition and technology
Virtual bar mitzvah had all the familiar chaos of a regular family event
My brother Kyle did not want a typical bar mitzvah, and all it took was a worldwide pandemic to get him exactly what he wished for.
Kyle, like any introverted 13year-old, isn’t keen on crowds or being the centre of attention. He told our parents he didn’t want people he didn’t know to attend his service in synagogue, where he would read the Torah. To celebrate, he didn’t want a party — he wanted to go to a resort in Costa Rica where our family had previously vacationed. Most of us had gotten salmonella on that trip, but Kyle didn’t.
COVID-19 changed all our plans, fast. When places of worship started to have limits on crowds gathering, discussions turned: Only family and the rabbi would be able to attend the service, and guests would have to tune in on Zoom. But then the synagogue closed. Even though the virus didn’t care about tradition, the bar mitzvah was meant to go on. Our immediate family would do our own service from our home, the rabbi from his, the cantor from hers and all of our guests from theirs — on Zoom.
Any Jewish person will tell you that, at times, family gatherings can bring along certain anxieties. Even though we weren’t physically together, it felt the same as any other bar mitzvah. Everyone talked over each other, there was lots of deli meat, dozens of bagels and the judgmental glare of my Bubbie was clear as day, even through a camera.
A bar mitzvah is the celebration of a13-year-old boy becoming a man in the Jewish community. Even though circumstances had changed, Kyle would still read a passage from Exodus, but instead of being on stage in synagogue, he stood in our living room in his preferred attire: a tie-dyed T-shirt and sweatpants. Because we were at home, and almost all societal dress expectations had ceased, that meant anyone who wanted to could dress like Kyle.
When our friends and family arrived on Zoom, there was a lot of chatter. Whenever a new person joined, my father chimed in that they either looked more like their parents or their children. No one laughed the first time, but he made sure to make his cringeworthy joke to each newcomer. And then my Zaidy repeatedly checked Bubbie’s scalp to assess the dye job he’d just done on her roots.
It was obvious when the rabbi wanted to get started, but instead of asking everyone to quiet down over several minutes, he simply muted everyone at once with the click of a button.
This was the first bar mitzvah I’d been to where there was no reading from an actual Torah, and most guests did not have prayer books. The rabbi just asked everyone to try their best. It was also the first bar mitzvah I’d been to where a boy’s voice didn’t crack. Our second oldest brother’s sure had, right after he declared himself an atheist, then nearly passed out on stage.
Even though it was harder to participate in the service, it was easier for out-of-town guests to be present, though only digitally. Our service in Newmarket had people tune in from across the GTA, California and Australia.
In a typical bar mitzvah setting, the rabbi and Kyle would take a quiet moment on stage to speak privately. The rabbi joked his whole reputation was at stake now that he had to give his personal speech not only to Kyle, but everyone on Zoom. He told Kyle how proud he was of him for adapting so fast and he acknowledged the strangeness of the situation. I thought most of the audience would remember their own asides at their bar and bat mitzvahs, as I did. It’s a moment of relief to receive unbridled praise, and it was nice to share it with the online congregation.
Kyle was given a kiddush cup, which men who have passed their bar mitzvah can use on every Sabbath to drink wine from as they say the accompanying blessing. The rabbi raised his own bar mitzvah kiddush cup, which he would not typically have had at synagogue, but because he was in his home, was able to include it in the ceremony. There was something so endearing about everyone just making the best of the situation.
As things were wrapping up, close friends of my grandparents suddenly joined the service. We couldn’t even complain that they were late. Who wants to give a couple in their late 80s heck for having a hard time figuring out a brand new computer program?
For the last prayer of the service, the rabbi unmuted everyone so we could sing together. We suffered through a horrible chorus, and I heard the words “kill us” uttered in dismay by my most cranky and clever great aunt, horrified at the limits of technology and lack of talent in the family. As we wrapped up, the newly familiar phrase of “Where is ‘leave meeting?’ ” echoed as everyone's nostrils became the main feature of their video squares.
The best part of all this? Kyle got exactly what he wanted.
A bar mitzvah is about stepping up to the plate in a bigger way to honour one’s family, and not all boys get what they want out of the process. But for Kyle’s big day, a new type of wonderful was brought to an ancient tradition. And even though it may not have been exactly what our ancestors intended, tie-dyed Tshirts and sweatpants are undeniably some of the most comfortable clothing to wear at home with your family.