This past weekend we had a Bar Mitzvah at the synagogue. This year we have four. Usually they are joyous events. For the child. For the family. And for the community. It helps our community, any community, sit back and take stock. We are proud of what the individual child has accomplished and what the community has, by teaching, by nurturing, by modeling community. We celebrate with the family. It deepens the conversations and the commitments. It builds community.

And the question is what does Bar Mitzvah mean? Do we have a Bar Mitzvah? Make a Bar Mitzvah? Become a Bar Mitzvah? And what about a Bat Mitzvah?

What are the expectations of a Bar Mitzvah? What are the expectations for a Bar Mitzvah?

Historically a Bar Mitzvah was an age. At 13 a boy became responsible for the mitzvot, the commandments. We say that a boy becomes an adult in the eyes of the Jewish community. He can count as part of the minyan. He can lead services. He can read from the Torah. But that is about it. Adult? Not so much. He can’t vote. He can’t drive. He can’t drink. He can’t serve in the army. He can’t marry. And the same is true for the girls. Essentially.

Most of our students enjoy the experience. They work on a project to improve the world that is unique to them. They get to demonstrate mastery of some of the liturgy, make a speech, have a party, some times get gifts. For some this process is intimidating. They are shy. They think they can’t sing. They don’t like to be up in front of people. For some it is close to torture. They are angry or sad or scared. They don’t think they like Judaism. They don’t think anyone likes them. They are not sure they believe in G-d. Their parents are making them or forcing them for reasons they don’t understand. 13 can be a very awkward age.

And the secret is, that you don’t need to do anything to become a Bar or Bat Mitzvah. You just need to turn 13. That’s all. Having an aliyah in front of a congregation is an affirmation. It is a public recognition of something that just happens. It is a celebration of who you are becoming. It is a beginning of a journey not a graduation. So if you don’t want to have a ceremony, don’t.

Bar Mitzvah is not a statement of faith. It is a celebration marking a coming of age. That is all.

But what if your government said you can’t have a Bar Mitzvah? Or a Bat Mitzvah? And what if that government is the State of Israel, the Jewish State? That is precisely what happened almost a month ago. The Masorti Movement, the Conservative Movement in Israel, has been preparing special needs children for Bar and Bat Mitzvah for more than a decade. These children work hard. They are excited. They are prepared. They are ready to take their unique place in the Jewish community.

But this year, the mayor of Rehovot, decided the week before that these children did not deserve to have a ceremony and cancelled the event. Essentially because a Masorti (Conservative Movement) rabbi would be officiating at a Masorti Synagogue. While some said that this was not about the children being disabled, others said that not all the Orthodox would allow children like these the opportunity since it is unclear how much they understand or how much they can be responsible. Either explanation could put some of the families attending in an awkward position. Could there be an Orthodox synagogue and an Orthodox rabbi for a new venue?

Imagine being a child who has worked for a whole year to master material and being told the week of that your ceremony is not happening. Imagine being the mother of one of those children.

The parents were outraged. The community was outraged. Worldwide opinion, especially from the Conservative and Reform Movements applied pressure. After watching part of a movie, Praying with Lior, our own Torah School students recorded three songs of peace which we shared with their fellow students in Israel.

What does it mean to pray like Lior? Lior has Down Syndrome and yet he was able to lead his congregation in worship for his Bar Mitzvah. What do we learn from students like this? His father, Rabbi Modechai Liebling said, “You could see that he ignited something and by the time he was just a few years old it was very clear that he could change the energy in the room…” Isn’t that what we want from prayer? To ignite something? To change the energy in the room?

What about the Hasidic tale about the little boy who didn’t know the words who played his flute? Wasn’t the rebbe clear that his prayer was so sweet that it went straight to heaven?

If we are all created “b’tzelem elohim,” in the image of G-d, doesn’t that mean that all the Liors of the world are included? If we are not supposed to put a stumbling block before the blind or curse the deaf, doesn’t that mean we have to help them learn how to pray? Maimonides taught that “Every member of the people of Israel is obligated to study Torah, whether one is rich or poor, physically able or with physical diability. (Mishneh Torah Hilchot Talmud Torah, Chapter 10)

The week the ruling initially came out in Israel was the week of Parshat Emor. We spoke about it that week from the bimah and it created one of the most heated discussions since I have been in Elgin. One person said that he was unsure what if anything these kids understand of what they are doing. Maybe they really shouldn’t lead services. Maybe it doesn’t really mean anything. If they don’t comprehend what they are doing, maybe they cannot be a Bar Mitzvah, responsible for their actions, responsible for the mitzvot, a responsible adult.

The parsha itself seems to set some limits. It commands that offerings need to be without blemish. That the cohanim, the priests need to be whole, without broken legs for instance. These limits seem wrong in our modern age. And limits that seem wrong in our modern age. How do we reconcile our desire to be warm and welcoming with priests that need to be whole, perfect?

When we present offerings, we need to offer G-d our best. Why? The Conservative Movement Torah Commentary, Eitz Chayyim says, “It is not because G-d’s vanity demands it, but because it reflects our attitude toward G-d.” We want to bring the best we can bring to G-d. It is an expectation of excellence. We can’t settle for second best. We need to strive toward perfection—realizing that we will never get there—quite—but that is the goal.

Leading services is not a performance. It is leading the congregation in worship. It is helping the congregation to pray, to reach towards the Divine. It is the offering of our hearts. The shaliach tzibbur, the messenger of the congregation, is tasked with propelling our prayer.

That is precisely what Lior did—and these other children should be allowed to do, under the direction of the rabbi that prepared them.

Fast forward to this week. The pressure worked. Almost. This week those children will finally be marking their Bnai Mitzvah. At the President’s Residence.

But here is the catch. Without the rabbi who trained them. No less than the president of the State of Israel said that because he is a Masorti rabbi he could not officiate. There are charges and counter charges from President Rivlin’s office and from the Masorti Movement offices, both in Israel and the US. These children should not be pawns in some political battle. They should just be able to have an aliyah. To mark their Bnei Mitzvah. Period. And then to celebrate.

This weekend I am off on an adventure. I will be with Simon’s family in New York at a Modern Orthodox Bat Mitzvah. I am excited and a little nervous. But the fact remains a generation ago in this country this idea of a Bat Mitzvah with the girl reading Torah would probably be unthinkable. In some Orthodox communities today, it is pretty standard.

That’s great. Because becoming a Bar Mitzvah or a Bat Mitzvah means the world is full of possibilities.