I genuinely was not aware going in to this parenthood gig how many decisions you have to be ready to make – some of them potentially life-changing - before the kid is even born. One week pre-baby delivery, we were still on the fence about circumcision. If we lived in Europe, it would have been an easy decision. I’ll save the political debate for another kind of blogger to tackle – but let’s just say we were sufficiently convinced of circumcision’s optional nature. We were firmly in the natural childbirth camp, and that campsite is populated with an extremely opinionated, if well-meaning group of fleece-clad, makeup-free campers/activists. We found out from our birthing class friends that there are a LOT of procedures done for expediency’s sake in your typical U.S. hospital on newborns. Some of them are unnecessary. Our birthing class instructor shared with us a laundry list of optional procedures the hospital will do as a matter of policy with a newborn and circumcision was right at the top of this list.
Early on, I think we were pretty convinced circumcision was not for us. I realized this choice could make him susceptible to some locker room hazing in middle and high school, but at this point we were still making decisions based on medical necessity (it's super easy to be theoretical pre-birth). I studied up on what percentage of babies still underwent the procedure, and was relieved to see that in California it was on the decline, with only 32% of all little boys being circumcised at the hospital. Of course, this statistic does not take into account the number of babies that undergo circumcision at home during a bris or in a urologist’s office, but at the time I leaped onto that number as all the rationale needed to avoid cutting our little man.
Then of course, after Townes was born, while we were still in the hospital the world’s most reasonable pediatrician told us that while she had no preference whatsoever medically (the research is just about exactly split down the middle on whether the procedure is beneficial or entirely unnecessary) – she always recommended to parents that the little boy “match” his dad. Makes sense. At this point, Townes had already been poked and prodded and had a lot of blood taken so we decided to table the whole circumcision question till later. In the meantime, I did a LOT of online reading on the subject. Basically, I found that if we decided to conform to societal pressures (oh, the drama!) there’s a significant amount of online chatter that extols the Mohel over the surgeon. A Mohel is basically a professional circumciser while a doctor performs the procedure as a very small percentage of his overall practice. Without getting too technical, a surgeon’s whole setup traumatizes the newborn (the over bright lights, the local anesthetic, the longer length of time it takes to perform the procedure) while the Mohel’s setup (at home, sugar water as anesthetic, the efficient expediency) seemed to suggest a much less painful experience. Music to our jittery, first-time parents’ ears.
At our first office visit, Townes’ pediatrician listened to me explain my exhaustive research with the patience of a saint and then finished the exam. As we were leaving the office she handed me a brochure for a local Mohel. I told her I wasn’t Jewish, but that didn’t really seem to faze her. Just call him this week, she advised. I got on the Mohel’s website but couldn’t find anything that would suggest he might perform a circumcision for a couple of non-Jews. So, I decided to call him. My parents were staying with us to help for a few weeks, so I furtively stepped out on the porch that night to call Rabbi Greenfeld (not his real name – you’ll understand why in a minute). The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hi. I was wondering if you ever do circumcisions for non-Jews (cringe). We don't need a bris, just your professional expertise (this was me trying to assay his fears of my being some weirdo gentile from Echo Park practicing the worst kind of cultural appropriation. I wanted to add that I was not this sort of annoying personality. I didn’t have a Hindu or Buddhist “phase” when I started taking yoga. Hell, I didn’t even LIKE yoga! I wasn’t trying to co-opt his people’s experience – I just wanted a safe and professional circumcision for my tiny, little son). Luckily, I kept it simple for once.
Rabbi: Just a minute, young lady. I am en route from a bris just now as we speak. Let me get a pencil and paper to take down some information (lengthy rustling of papers). Ok, I’m back. Are you there?
Me: Yes.
Rabbi: (Clears throat loudly and lengthily). Ok. Yes, young lady. Well, here is the thing. You understand we cannot have a bris unless you or your husband is of Jewish descent. Are you or your husband of Jewish descent?
Me: (dejectedly). No. we are not. That’s what I expected. Well, thank you for your time.
Rabbi: Not so fast, young lady. As I said, we cannot have a bris unless you or your husband is of Jewish descent. Are you sure you are not?
Me: I’m sure. We are not Jewish. (I didn't share, but in fact my husband's family is Baptist and mine is about as Roman Catholic as you can get).
Rabbi: Not so fast, young lady. Are you certain?
Me: (Now, starting to feel a bit unsure)…..uh. Yes. I mean my husband’s part Polish so I suppose there is a possibility, somewhere…
Rabbi: Mmmm. I see, I see. Just a second. Wait. What is your background?
Me: Well, on my dad’s side we are mostly Irish and English and on my mom’s side we are mostly Mexican but there is also some Spanish and…
Rabbi: (Interrupting me mid-ramble)….Wait! Wait! This is good! Did you say Spanish?
Me: Well, yes. It’s sort of unsubstantiated though my grandfather’s side of the family claims we were part of Ponce de Leon’s legendary exploratory party to Florida…you know, with the Fountain of Youth and all but I’m a little skeptical and…family folklore...
Rabbi:(Interrupting again). You are for sure a Jew. For sure. You are from Spain? You have Spanish blood? I would say I am 97% sure you are a Jew. I am happy to provide the services you are requesting.
¿Que Paso? Uh, say what? Er…okaaaayyy. Once the deal was done, (a few slightly inappropriate penis jokes later – I kid you not – the guy clearly had a comedian’s soul) I immediately swung from fear of Bris Rejection (caps intentional) to being a little spooked that I had might have been living a lie my entire life. This guy was legit. Is this the underlying, unconscious reason I broke with my Roman Catholic upbringing? I’ve been a Jew all along and just not realized it? Some of the signs were there. I’ve always been interested in Judaism. I love a good Seder dinner. My ambiguous features typically have folks from just about every ethnicity claiming me. Quite a few people over the years have misidentified me as a Jew. Perhaps they were right all along! I did a little research via Wikipedia (where else?) and was somewhat surprised to find that the Rabbi’s overreaching had a pretty undeniable historical precedent. So we set about organizing a bris for Townes. Part 2 tomorrow on how we sold this to my Catholic parents and how the ceremony went (here’s a hint: far better than expected).
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