On Birthrights, B???nei Mitzvah, and Zionism in Judaism

In the quiet fall of 2003, I was born a beautiful and healthy baby into a bustling Reform Jewish community in Southern California. I was raised sitting in the front rows of my synagogue, swaying my small body with the lively guitar and piano renditions of time-honored prayers and songs. I was the quickest in my b’nei mitzvah class to read Hebrew, the first hand raised with answers to questions of stories from Lech Lecha and Shemini and Ki Savo. My mother raised me on words from the Sages, their wisdom chronicled in Pirkei Avot tattooed into the brightest corners of her bright mind. I longed to wear the kippah atop my dense curls. I proudly told my elementary school classmates that I was Jewish. I cherished my community at my synagogue. I went to weekend camps with gatherings of Reform Jews from all across Southern California.

Visit Now