Bris Milah - Attending a Jewish Circumcision

Bris Milah (photo is not from today's ceremony)

Circumcision is common today, for male babies in more than just the Jewish community. It is the norm in the United States. However, for observant Jews, the Bris Milah is one of the most sacred rituals. It signifies the covenant between G-d and Abraham. Poor Abraham had to do it to himself--at age 99 no less, and to his sons, who were not infants.

On the male baby's eighth day, even if it's on Shabbat--the day of rest--he has his foreskin carefully but quickly removed by a trained mohel in a brief but essential ceremony for a new male member of the Jewish community.

It's right there in Genesis 17:10-12:
"Every male among you shall be circumcised... it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and You. He that is eight days old among you shall be circumcised."

Why eight days? Today, we talk about the baby having enough vitamin K in his system for the blood to clot and other factors. But it's in the book. If the mohel happens to determine that the baby isn't ready, he can delay the circumcision.

Rabbi R.R., whose son received his welcome into the Jewish community today, told the congregation that this is not something a person decides with their reason. A baby is too young to know or decide. It's actually the father's duty to perform it--or designate an agent. The rabbi gladly turned the duties over to a trained pro today.

And why does a baby, just over a week old, have to suffer pain? Well, the rabbi explains, not everything is for our own pleasure--we owe something to the benefit of our community, and sometimes that means going out of our comfort zone. It's a paraphrase, but the point is, this is a male Jewish baby's first of many ways he is brought into the community.

It's also the day he receives his name. This beautiful young man is named after the great Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, a special honor. I was surprised to read that there are different ideas about naming in Judaism. In the Ashkenazic (Eastern European) community -- my ancestors -- you can name after an honored and beloved departed relative--but the Sephardic Jews also can name after a living relative.

Sitting there watching and listening, I heard prayers from those performing the ceremony and occasionally from the congregation. And, I heard some crying from the center of attention--at the cold air when his diaper was opened, at the brief cut from the highly trained and experienced ritual circumcisor, and that was it. The baby received a few drops of wine after the bris. He was already participating in the kiddush.

The community gathered around the baby as he was then carried gently through the crowd, receiving the love and blessing of his community. That reminded me of the joy and excitement attendees feel when the newly married bride and groom make their way out of their wedding ceremony.

Girls get a special naming too, at the synagogue when the Torah is read. 

Holding the baby before and during the ceremony is a great honor. During the circumcision itself the baby lay on his grandfather's lap. The people who bring the baby into the room are honored as well. Being in the room at all feels like something special, too.

It's Judaism, so that means a great feast afterwards. A sea of well-wishers crowded into the big room where the Passover seder took place just a couple of weeks ago and ate delicious meats, felafel and vegetables. Each round table had its own special cake, too.

As in the seder, there is a special chair set aside for the Prophet Elijah. When a king of Israel, under treacherous influences, abolished circumcision, Elijah protested to G-d, so he is now appointed to be present and witness all circumcisions.

Mazal tov to the parents, the baby and the community!

Note: Some information in this post comes from A Guide to a Bris - An Overview & The Service, which was supplied to everyone in attendance. I kept my copy and will place it in the Jewish Roots Project library.

Joining in at a Chabad Saturday Service

I was invited to attend a Saturday morning service by Rabbi RR, and I accepted. It was to be followed by lunch, so I figured I'd get a good chance to meet some of the people who attended the shul and see how they felt about things. Rabbi RR suggested I drop in once the service had already started, so I got there at about 10:30 a.m.

The Rabbi placed a tallit over my shoulders, directed me to come up to the front of the room, and I grabbed a siddur (prayerbook) and joined in.

While Reform and Conservative synagogues are set up on the "church" model, where the professional religious staff performs a ritual that parishioners may or not be involved in, the Orthodox model is more participatory. Although the rabbi is the nominal leader, anyone can direct the service who knows how it goes. There is an order, and there are some long prayers in Hebrew to say, but they're all there in the book. Occasionally, I watched the rabbi say a passage very quickly--like an auctioneer--and then slow down. Some of the people spoke the prayers at their own pace, and you could hear them in the background.

The centerpiece of a Saturday service is reading from the Torah--the sacred scrolls containing what a Christian would recognize as the first five books of the Old Testament or the Pentateuch. The common English translation is NOT the King James version, but it reads in a "thee and thou" way. There are other translations into more standard modern English too, but it's most satisfying to hear it in Hebrew, and then have the Rabbi explain what's going on.

It's an honor to help with the reading--to be called "up" for an aliyah. There is a short prayer that you chant before the section of the Torah portion that is read while you're up there, and a short concluding prayer. I was surprised--and pleased--to be called up for the fourth of the seven aliyahs. Using my Hebrew name--Shlomo ben Mendel--the rabbi beckoned me up to the folding table that he used to hold the precious Torah, which had been ceremonially removed from the "ark" where it normally lives. It had the wooden spindles on each end and the beautiful hand-written text on its parchment.

I said the first prayer--which I not only remembered, but got to hear three others recite before me, and it was written on a large card on the table in case you needed help to remember it. I was surprised that it was the very same one we used in the Reformed temple when I was a kid!

I stood next to the rabbi as he read, with my hand on the Torah's wooden handle. After reciting the concluding prayer a few minutes later, I moved to the side as a young man, came up and did his part. After you finish and step back to your seat, others shake your hand, congratulating you for participating. It felt great.

The service proceeded after the Torah reading for a while, including a Haftorah reading from the Prophets. At the end of the service, the rabbi wished us "Good Shabbat" and we stepped away to have lunch.

There was a nice spread in the kitchen, and I helped myself before sitting down at the long table with the others. We had a very pleasant and interesting conversation about Jewish subjects, including a little wine and some hard liquor (in small quantities). Shabbat is a happy time, even though we also discussed a few people who were ill and one man's sister, who had just died unexpectedly a few days before--in her 40's. The man had said the mourner's kaddish prayer during the service, so assumed that had suffered a loss recently.

The Orthodox service, as done by the Chabad folks, is inclusive, and I was pleased that I knew enough to participate. I felt at home there, which surprised me a little. I will be meeting with the rabbi this week to talk about the upcoming holiday of Purim, and I'm sure I'll be back for Saturday soon.

I Lay Tefillin for the First Time Today

Thanks to Rabbi RR, I got my first lesson on wearing tefillin today. This longtime ritual means actually following the instructions in the Shema prayer to wear the words as a "reminder between your eyes" and as a "sign upon your hand." So, you essentially tie a box with the prayer in it onto your bicep and on the top of your forehead above the hairline (if you have one) using leather straps.

You must tie them in a certain way and get the symbols correct. The numbers 3 and 7 are important. Also meaningful is that this ritual uses the head, the heart (the one on the bicep points to it) and the hand. This means that thought, feeling and action are all combined--that's a powerful trio.

The head must rule. The Rabbi told me how the word for king (melech) and fool (lemech) use the same letters, M, L and CH. So, using the first letters of the Hebrew names for head, heart and liver (action), which correspond to these three letters, it's a matter of having the parts PARTS IN THE RIGHT ORDER that defines the difference between a king and a fool. It probably works better with the real Hebrew. 8-)

Once you've got everything set up properly, the procedure is to say the Shema (Daily declaration of faith) prayer and then carefully put everything back in it's containers and bags for tomorrow. You take off the tefillin in reverse order that you put it on, so it's hand, head, arm.

Laying tefillin is a very literal activity, but as someone who grew up Reformed--and had lots of gaps in his education--this is a nice first step to experiencing something of what my more orthodox ancestors did. I'm especially honored to use Rabbi RR's fathers tefillin.

Updates as they happen.