Confirmations: 1932 and 1965

Ninety years ago this month, my father was confirmed from South Shore Temple. The family had gone from Orthodox (First Roumanian Congregation) to Conservative (South Side Hebrew Congregation) to Reform (South Shore Temple) in the span of only two generations. I have two keepsakes commemorating dad’s confirmation.

 

First Roumanian Congregation, 1352 S. Union St.

The first is his Union Prayer Book, presented by the president of the congregation, whose fancy script signature I can’t make out beyond “Michael.” This revised edition was published in 1924 and contains sections Services for the Sabbath (Evening, Morning and Afternoon services), Services for the Three Festivals (Evening and Morning services), Services for Weekdays (Evening, Evening at the House of Mourning and Morning) and Prayers for Private Devotion. By the time we started attending High Holiday services, the prayer book had been revised again.

 

Union Prayer Book

I have read passages from a portion of the Mourning service on three occasions. The first was during a group photowalk in Graceland Cemetery in June 2012, the second at the headstone dedication for my cousin Jim in July 2012, and the third during officiating at my mother’s funeral, March 28, 2013, at Zion Gardens Cemetery.

Perhaps the most poignant passage is part of the Silent Devotion section. It reads, “We know that every night has its morning, that after the hours of darkness come again the hours of daylight. Grant that we may rise again to do our allotted tasks in peace of soul. Remember that the seed, oft sown in tears ripens into a harvest to be gathered in joy.”

 My mother long ago had stated she didn’t want a rabbi (and probably by extension any member of the clergy) to officiate at her funeral. Because it wasn’t in writing, I thought perhaps someone could at least say the prayers. The House of Mourning section gave me an excellent blueprint for a service, so I conducted it myself, due in some part that I’d be using my father’s prayer book. The funeral was one day short of 40 years that my father died suddenly at age 55. Somehow, it seemed so appropriate. I even got a very nice complement after the service from the funeral director.

 

Sachs Family Section, Zion Gardens Cemetery

I’ve written about the other item the blog post (The View From Brule Lake: To Ring or Not to Ring (brulelaker.blogspot.com). My father received a monogram ring that contained a small diamond, which came from a stickpin presented to my grandfather by one of the previously mentioned congregations for serving as president. It literally rolled out of a personal-effects envelope at the hospital that terrible day. I put it on and later had it sized. As I say, I’ve worn it for better and for worse: 41 years for him, 49 years for me.

 

Confirmation Ring, 1932

My confirmation memorabilia consist of far less valuable keepsakes. I was an indifferent student and thus was one of those whose participation in the June 6, 1965, ceremony at Congregation Solel consisted solely of marching in and watching from the audience. A photograph (my scanner cropped off a bit of each end but includes two who went to jail and a third who dodged a felony conviction through death), program and certificate are reminders of my religious education. The confirmands are pictured here (you will have to guess which twin is which).

 

Congregation Solel Confirmation Class, 1965

Today, I am unaffiliated; Janet and Marisa belong to the congregation to which we once all belonged. Since moving to the Gold Coast in 1998, I can see a shul out our windows, one-half block away. Although I’m certainly not the most religious of persons, this one isn’t for me, in part due to the previous rabbi who criticized other Reform congregations for having too many rituals and performing mixed marriages (no problem on its face) with Catholic priests on Saturday afternoons. We all have limits.

Synagogue from a Window