Ok who was gonna tell me that Worf’s human dad is literally Tevye - he’s played by Theodore Bikel

His mom too! And since both his parents are Jewish…. :P

Personally, though, I headcanon that although Worf was clearly raised in a Jewish household, he is not himself Jewish. He had the option, and decided against it, and feels more comfortable in Jewish spaces than he does in most other human ones, but look at the care and effort his human family put in to make sure he grew up with ties and connections to Klingon culture! They made sure he retained fluency in the language, they never pressed him on being more human, they regularly made Klingon food, they made sure he know the rites and rituals and traditions… They couldn’t be Klingon for him, but they made sure to get as close as they could. And, when he entered Starfleet, he was still a little too uncomfortable with the dual identity thing to have wanted to ID with anything human, so extrapolating backwards, he wouldn’t have as a kid, although he might consider it as he ages (I have never seen any DS9). 

this is really lovely. now I am struggling, because I cherish the idea of Worf taking his bar mitzvah exactly as seriously as his Klingon cultural practices.

Compromise proposal? Worf and a second Bar Mitzvah. 83 year old Worf who is no longer insecure about a multifaceted identity and hasn’t been for decades up there in his dress uniform fucking nailing his parasha (and the service itself, and also doing Friday and Saturday night services because he’s Worf Rozhenko of the House of Mogh and he is fully capable), and having waited that long to do a Bar Mitzvah not because he didn’t want to, but for the sake of Tradition. Alexander in the audience hanging on to a piece of candy to whack him in between the eyes as hard as he can the moment Worf finishes the blessing because that’s what Worf did for him -”a Jewish man should read Torah and a Klingon warrior should not flinch from pain. You are both.” Helena and Sergey sitting in the front row and both openly bawling, they’re so proud and happy. All three of his brothers there; Jeremy watching curiously in a borrowed kippah -it’s not his tradition, but Worf took bringing him into his family to heart, and he’s been to enough Jewish events over the years to get what’s going on. Nikolai proud and thankful that their parents lived long enough to see this; he remembers how disappointed they were and how desperately they tried not to let Worf know when he decided not to have one the first time around. Kurn being a bit confused, a bit uncomfortable; the ceremony and emphasis on scholarship are all so undeniably human, but he respects how hard it is to be the only one, to be uniquely in-between like this, and he’s in awe, yet again, of a burden Worf wears as a cloak of honor. Worf feeling the gaze of three brothers, none of whom quite understands him, all very different from him, but all of whom love and care about and support him in their similarities and their differences, as he reads in flawless Hebrew about brother betraying brother, and his d’var torah is on the wisdom of parents who raise their children with enough love to spare, on the kindness of families who take in orphans and treat them no differently than their own blood -he’s talking about his parents and Lorgh, but Jeremy catches his eye when he says it and nods gravely; it’s the one time he falters, realizing that it applies to him, that he is the best of both worlds, but he has grown, and he can accept that.

There was a discussion for months about how to make Klingon traditional dishes kosher enough to serve at the oneg; eventually a compromise was reached where only dishes that could be adapted or already met the requirements would be served at the shul, and then there would be a bigger gathering afterward at home where they could have all the treyfe food they want. Worf lingers in the courtyard by himself for a bit; there’s a segment of memorial plaques out there (in the 25th century, surely, they can be outside and lit without fear of rain -perhaps by then they’ll project small images of the deceased when their names are spoken?) that he commissioned. There’s one just like it in his home. It has the names of his Klingon family, of Kahlest, of K’ehleyr, of every friend and family member he’s outlived; the people who died under his command, the people he couldn’t save. A weight, a responsibility, a reminder to do better, a reminder of everyone he carries with him, but this too is not a burden anymore; it’s a reminder that his life has been full, that it has had meaning, that the list is so much shorter than it would be had he not been there, that so long as he lives, they live through him and their deaths have meaning, and that when he dies, their names will live. 

well now I’m crying. completely non-sarcastic thank you