Adolescence

And so it was written in the Book of Life,
on the seventh day of Sukkot,
that the farmer and his wife rested,
and they surveyed their work:
the fruits of their labor.
It was fine.
They rejoiced singing Hoshanah rabah
for the harvest, for life,
and, especially, for the miracles of their own love:
Rachel, Daniel, Ari and Ze’ev.

For it numbered many seasons that they had sown
their first seed and then three times after
culminating in the ripening of their last sunflower.
Born in full summer
amid the vines and plants of the land.
And, indeed, he was a blessing,
a sturdy wolf cub ever vigilant,
ever learning from the wisdom
of his brothers, his sister, and his elders.

And so it came to pass
that the cycle was nearing its completion.
It was Ze’ev’s turn to become a man
and to dedicate himself to his people and to his tradition.
So he performed the mitzvah
of constructing a booth according to the designated design
to celebrate God’s bounty and his own happiness.
The roof he made from the greens
he seeded with his two hands and on the walls
he hung the peppers and beans which overflowed his plate.

Beneath the open sky holding ethrog and lulav,
he knew it was his time to be honored
and to do credit to his family.
With the joyously familiar up, down, forward, back
of the citron and twigs which tied together
the praises of many generations past
and of many to come.

For this boy was the last of the tribe of Benjamin.
He bestowed tribute upon upon the clan
with the kindness of his heart,
his curiosity and zest to learn,
his lively wit and humor,
his dedication to integrity,
and his ever genial spirit.

So together, he and his family,
and those who came to celebrate with him,
circled the bimah seven times.
Striking the ground with their willow twigs,
loosening leaves like trees in fall,
in symbolic demonstration of the seasonal cycle
and their faith in the restorative gifts of God.

Until finally, the Book of Life was sealed.
And also a chapter in the time line of Benjamin.
For Ze’ev became a man,
accountable to God and to his people,
to his family and his friends.
To carry on his tradition and his legacy
of faith and mitzvot.

And to all who came to witness this thanksgiving,
he gave appreciation,
and he invited them to sing Amen.

Lynn Benjamin

October 11, 1998

This is the poem I read when Zev, our youngest child,  became a Bar Mitzvah on the seventh day of Sukkot. We were very proud of him.