A Jewish Journey of Identity and Courage

Chapter 1 Emma

“Emma, are you coming with us or not?” Bethany asked as the school day wrapped up. “I can’t, I have something to do,” I replied, quickening my pace. I hoped she wouldn’t pry further. Whenever I have my Bat Mitzvah lessons, I make up excuses to skip their outings. They just don’t understand why I need to learn to read the Torah. Today, they’re heading to the mall to shop. To be honest, I could use some new sweaters; the evenings are getting chilly, and my clothes from last year don’t fit anymore. “Whatever,” Bethany said, rushing to her mom’s car waiting at the school entrance. At the end of the line of cars, I spotted my mom’s blue vehicle. “How was your day?” Mom asked before I even had a chance to sit down and close the door. “Fine,” I said, shrugging. “Then what’s with the face?” she observed as she drove us home. She always sees right through me. I can’t hide anything from her. “Nothing. The girls are all getting together, but I can’t join them because of this stupid class.” I sighed, knowing how important it was for my mom that I learn to read the Torah for my Bat Mitzvah. They’ve invested so much effort into it. My parents emigrated from Israel to the United States as students at Columbia University. They met there and got married. Although they’re not religious—far from it, really—Mom insisted we make a big deal out of my Bat Mitzvah, including reading from the Torah at synagogue. My older sister, Karen, also read the Torah for her Bat Mitzvah and described it as “a shaping experience.” I don’t think I need

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