[Shared by Dale at the party.]
Jordan –
As you can see, I have not memorized this. We asked you to memorize blessing after blessing after blessing, to learn pages of Hebrew--with the trope, to stand in front of a room of family and friends and congregants and interpret a perplexing and troubling Torah passage. You did all this. I did not memorize a page of English. Which goes to show you. Nothing—nothing—in life is fair, my son. Truth. But you can earn admiration and respect. You certainly did these last couple days. Nice work J. I’m so proud of you.
You may be thinking that now that you’re taller than your mother, it’s time for your parents to learn a few things from you. Fair enough. But I will confess our well-kept secret. Your parents have always learned things from you. Maybe it’s part of why parents have kids—we could use some help figuring things out.
So, what have you shown us?
You have shown us what stalwart determination looks like. You can chip away at a Herculean task with such resolve. After this past week of fever and coughing, of turning white on the bimah, you still did it! And so beautifully. Unbelievable. You’d be the one to march into the Reed Sea, unless you were asked to put on sunscreen first.
You have shown us what caring for your family and friends looks like. Give Jordan five minutes of free time and he will seek someone out—often his brother. You care ten times more about who you are with than where you are.
You have shown us how much laughing can set the world right. If you need a lift, watch a Marx Brothers movie with Jordan. At the Women’s March this year, we admired a poster that read: “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.” You’re a shield from despair. Your laughter keeps us hopeful and joyful.
And you have shown us in your music what amazing things a community can do. Your choir works hard, critiques each other, and practices so much. You are so committed to your songs and to each other, and you create something really amazing that is bigger than all of its parts.
Yesterday, preparing for services, I was stuffing kleenexes in one pocket of my jacket and the text of our parental blessing in the other. And it reminded me of an old bit of Jewish lore. Rumor has it, Rabbi Simcha Bunem—a Hasidic rabbi who lived in Poland in the mid-eighteenth century—carried a piece of paper in each of his two pockets. One said, “For my sake, the world was created.” And the other said, “I am but dust and ashes.”
What ordinary stuff we are made of. Billions year old dirt. And in this sea of time, this time—now—is your time. It has been created for you by people you know and people you don’t know. By the things that are happening now and the things that happened eons ago. The party was certainly created for you. Your parents and Ian's parents paid for it, but it's for you.
Here’s to Jordan’s now and future. Here it is. Share yourself. Make sure you don’t hide yourself too much behind your bangs. Because you really are a joy to be with Jordan. We all have so much love and admiration for you, and it’s such a pleasure to have you as our son.
You may be thinking that now that you’re taller than your mother, it’s time for your parents to learn a few things from you. Fair enough. But I will confess our well-kept secret. Your parents have always learned things from you. Maybe it’s part of why parents have kids—we could use some help figuring things out.
So, what have you shown us?
You have shown us what stalwart determination looks like. You can chip away at a Herculean task with such resolve. After this past week of fever and coughing, of turning white on the bimah, you still did it! And so beautifully. Unbelievable. You’d be the one to march into the Reed Sea, unless you were asked to put on sunscreen first.
You have shown us what caring for your family and friends looks like. Give Jordan five minutes of free time and he will seek someone out—often his brother. You care ten times more about who you are with than where you are.
You have shown us how much laughing can set the world right. If you need a lift, watch a Marx Brothers movie with Jordan. At the Women’s March this year, we admired a poster that read: “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.” You’re a shield from despair. Your laughter keeps us hopeful and joyful.
And you have shown us in your music what amazing things a community can do. Your choir works hard, critiques each other, and practices so much. You are so committed to your songs and to each other, and you create something really amazing that is bigger than all of its parts.
Yesterday, preparing for services, I was stuffing kleenexes in one pocket of my jacket and the text of our parental blessing in the other. And it reminded me of an old bit of Jewish lore. Rumor has it, Rabbi Simcha Bunem—a Hasidic rabbi who lived in Poland in the mid-eighteenth century—carried a piece of paper in each of his two pockets. One said, “For my sake, the world was created.” And the other said, “I am but dust and ashes.”
What ordinary stuff we are made of. Billions year old dirt. And in this sea of time, this time—now—is your time. It has been created for you by people you know and people you don’t know. By the things that are happening now and the things that happened eons ago. The party was certainly created for you. Your parents and Ian's parents paid for it, but it's for you.
Here’s to Jordan’s now and future. Here it is. Share yourself. Make sure you don’t hide yourself too much behind your bangs. Because you really are a joy to be with Jordan. We all have so much love and admiration for you, and it’s such a pleasure to have you as our son.
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