Baby Jackson Gets a Bris!
January 18, 2007
Excerpt from letter: John to Jackson, Jan 13, 2007
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Dear Jackson,
Tears and laughter, blood, betrayal, singing and dancing, Hebrew and primal scream - this has been your second week.
I guess this biggest news of this week is your conversion from Animism to Judaism. The Jewish midwife, who was good enough to assist with your birth on the Sabbath, recommended I call 1-800-BABY-BOY, which connected me with a really nice Rabbi named Jehoshua Krohn who exclaimed that you needed a Bris right away, and offered us a cut rate for letting you be a quick stop between other gigs.
Rabbi Krohn is a full-time Mohel, and he came to our apartment on Wednesday morning. The way this guy scampered through canting in Hebrew would have embarrassed any professional rapper - not to mention anecdotes and plenty of quotes from the Tanakh, Midrash and other sources, which he was good enough to translate for your mommy and daddy. Then came the operation. Now, I thought I’d be able to hide out in the other room during the cutting, but no. It was your daddy’s job to hold your legs while you reclined on my lap and your mommy held your arms. Like your natural child-birth, your circumcision was drug-free, the rabbi just dipped a rolled-up gauze pad in some Manischewitz and let you suck it down. Quite a liking you took to that Manischewitz, which I must confess we’ve used a couple times since to ease your painful memories of the event (which we celebrated later that night by acquainting you with the Jewish Elvis, Neil Diamond, in the Jazz Singer movie).
At the Bris you were given a Hebrew name. Your father suggested Gyuri, after your… How do we put this? Okay. My mother’s uncle in Hungary was a composer and professional pianist who disappeared in Russia during the Second World War. Either he was sent on the Russian campaign by Hitler, or he was kidnapped by the Russians during their occupation of Hungary, we’re not sure. Either way, he probably died in a forced-labor camp, although of course there is some chance he’s alive somewhere, playing the piano. The rabbi said that, first of all, the name Gyuri would have to be shortened to Uri, its Hebrew root, and also that we should not name you for someone who died tragically without adding something, which he proposed be Chaim. So your Hebrew name is Chaim Uri, meaning “Life to his light.” You’re recovering Okay, and your Daddy’s just getting to the point that seeing your wounded little wang doesn’t turn his stomach. Your mommy and I will understand if you’d like to continue as a practicing Animist or pagan, but wanted to have this option open for you, to be Jewish. And, of course, should you ever wish to be Christian, they’ll be more than happy to have you.
With a wolf’s love for his cub,
Your Daddy