A young cousin of mine is going to celebrate her Bat Mitzvah in a few weeks. This means that she will be called up before the congregation at her synagogue to read from the Torah, the Five Books of Moses.
This is an important rite of passage for Jews, who, at age thirteen, are considered old enough to participate in religious rites; shoulder the moral responsibility for their actions; and, in the olden days at least, to marry.
The ceremony is more commonly associated with boys than girls, but there’s evidence that young women were called in front of the congregation during the early Roman period in Jerusalem. Over the centuries, as Judaism developed and flourished in Europe, with its strong traditions of religious patriarchy, the liturgical role of women fell away, and the emphasis shifted to the boys’ rite of manhood, the Bar Mitzvah.
These days, in all but the most rigidly Orthodox communities, girls celebrate side by side with boys, although perhaps not by reading from the Torah, but instead by delivering an address or homily.
It’s customary to give the Bat Mitvah girl a gift, and here is where this week’s story really begins. My young cousin — let’s call her by her Hebrew name, Aviva, which means “spring” — has grown up in an observant family. They keep kosher — although not in the strictest sense, which would require two completely separate kitchens, one for meat and one for dairy. They’re active members of their synagogue. Their social world consists almost entirely of Jewish people. They’re big boosters of Israel.
An unwavering commitment to Israel in the form of political and financial support is practically a pillar of faith for American Jews. Another pillar is remembrance of the Shoah, or European Holocaust. In fact, the two are often linked. The logic goes something like this: the condition of Jews in the diaspora, in their adopted homelands, will always be precarious. Just look at the case of German Jews, who were so completely assimilated that they no longer considered themselves Jews! In their own minds, they were German. The Nazis, of course, took a different view. Because anti-Semitism is alive and well, even if it might seem dormant in any given time and place, Jews will always need their own homeland — a life raft, if you will — in Israel.
To this, the usual exclusive truth-claims to the Holy Land are often appended: it’s our land because God gave it to us; anyone else who says the same thing is lying, deluded, or simply a Jew-hater.
Support for Israel has also become a pillar of faith for American politicians, who vie with each other to seem the most “Pro-Israel,” both to court Jewish voters and the Evangelical Right, which requires a strong Israeli state for its own ideological agenda.
Israel is the single largest recipient of American foreign aid and, it must be remembered, our staunch military ally — not to mention a rare democratic state — in a region increasingly turning to Islamist fundamentalism for answers.
I’ve never been to Israel, but many American Jews consider a trip to the Holy Land to be a great blessing. It isn’t a pilgrimage on the same level as a Muslim’s hajj to Mecca, which is one of the mandates of Islam, but it’s considered a way of connecting to one’s cultural and religious roots. Aviva has been to Israel; in fact, her elder sister celebrated her Bat Mitzvah there.
Problem: what if you’re an American Jew who disapproves of what’s happening in Israel? What if you see the fate of the Palestinian people, many of whom were displaced by the creation of the modern state of Israel, as requiring a political, not a military, solution?
Unfortunately, there’s almost no way to express this view without triggering an avalanche of vitriol. “Self-hating Jew” and “Jewish anti-semite” are just two of the insults you can reasonably expect. Barbed rhetorical questions often follow: doesn’t Israel have the right to defend itself against terrorism? Is it our fault that Hamas uses its own people as human shields, and considers it a propaganda victory when women and children are killed by the IDF?
All of this is very far afield from a simple Bat Mitzvah present. But somehow it’s all in the mix. How can we affirm our most precious traditions and, at the same time, rise above the tribalism at the root of so much of the world’s violence? What’s an appropriate gift for the girl who loves Israel?
In this case, our solution is a necklace from the Holy Land; the pendant is a khamsa, a symbol common throughout the Middle East and North Africa that consists of an open hand with an eye in the palm. Jews call it the Hand of Miriam; Muslims, the Hand of Fatima; and Christians, the Hand of Mary. It’s supposed to confer protection from the “evil eye.” It’s also known as a symbol of power and strength.
I think it’s fascinating that the khamsa holds similar meanings across the three major monotheisms, a reflection of its origins in an even older culture in ancient Mesopotamia.
The necklace we’re giving Aviva has one more surprise: the iridescent stone set in the palm of the hand is a piece of ancient Roman glass — which connects it to yet another kind of religion: polytheism!
On the day of her Bat Mitzvah, my hope is that Aviva will reflect on the universality of faith. We all want the blessings of power, strength, and protection. Judaism is one path to them, but there are other paths, as well.
