I believe in many things. Most importantly, I believe that
faith and organized religion are two entirely different things. I want my children to have faith in themselves
and in a guiding set of principles and beliefs that generally speaking
encourages them to almost always choose what is right even when that is the
harder choice. I want them to find peace in the knowledge that there is someone
or thing in this world that is greater than themselves. I hope that they will find
this in Judaism. But more than that, I just want them to find that space.
My youngest baby, Hope, is fast approaching 7 months old.
Though we are not currently members of any synagogue, our lack of shul
membership doesn’t necessarily translate into a lack of faith. My husband and I
are Jewish and we want to raise our children Jewish. One of their first introductions
to this faith is the ceremony where we give them their Hebrew name. Though I
expect we should’ve done this months ago when she was newly minted, it is time
to start planning this event now.
In Judaism, the naming ceremony for boys is part of the Brit
Milah or bris, the ritual circumcision that nearly all Jewish boys receive in
the first week after their birth. It’s a straightforward, if not uncomfortable
process that looked something like this with my son. I was 8 days post-partum
and was largely a walking ball of emotions. Our house was filled with some
close friends and family but mostly extended family that I did not know or
recall or even like. A mohel showed up who claimed he had circumcised nearly
every little boy in the tri-state area. He said a couple of blessings that I
did not understand over my tiny helpless son who lay sobbing on top of our card
table as he carefully removed his foreskin. Everyone celebrated as my baby
screamed. Someone removed the baby and the iodine and replaced it with a
platter of rice that my husband’s grandmother had made for the occasion. A
group of old women sat down at the exact same table where this whole ridiculous
scene had just taken place and started noshing and kibitzing. I grabbed my son
and the rugelach tray and hid in my bedroom where I sobbed and binge ate
pastry.
In every way, this ceremony for me was about religion. I
felt very little that day, and certainly didn’t feel moved or connected by my
faith. I recognize this was my personal experience with his bris, but nonetheless
it cut me sharply (no pun intended) that his first introduction to Judaism was seemingly
so full of ritual, yet so lacking in spirituality.
With our second daughter Ruby, we felt free of what we’d
been through with Dylan. Brit bats (the naming ritual for girls) are a
relatively new concept in Judaism and are much more free form. We knew we could
do something more formal in a shul with a rabbi but we hadn’t yet made that
connection with any one place. We wanted to create a ritual that honored our
traditions in a way that felt inclusive and warm. We called everyone to our
backyard on a sunny day in the spring. We pulled white chairs in a circle and
filled them with our closest and most favorite people. We spoke about my
mother, her namesake, about all of the things we loved about her, and about
what we wished for sweet baby Ruby. We blessed her. We welcomed her with love
into our faith.
And so again with Hope we now have a precedent, a path to
hold a ceremony unique to us and the space that we have created for ourselves
and our family within Judaism. This time it will be a crisp fall day. We will
gather the people we love in our backyard and ask for their grace as we stumble
rather artlessly through some blessings and give her Hebrew name. We will tell
her that with her arrival, she made a unique space in our hearts that reminds
us to stay soft, stay open. That perhaps this space is the only place in which
true love and change and a belief in a higher power itself is even possible. Because
of this, because of her and her brother and her sister, we have faith. We have
Hope.
And with our own unique rituals and deep humility, we will introduce
her to our unique brand of Judaism. We will welcome her into our faith with
love.
Gorgeous little face, gorgeous sentiment.
ReplyDeleteJust lovely. And oh how I can relate to your bris story. I wrote an article about that once. I'm glad you found a meaningful, personalized way to welcome your daughters into your world.
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