Today was the eighth day of Sam and Aaron’s life. For a boy raised in a Jewish house, it can only mean one thing. Circumcision.
Family and friends gather to witness this important rite of passage.
It’s also completely nerve racking to watch. It reminds me of watching a horror film. When the main character decides to check out the basement and the eerie music is playing in the background. You want to yell out, “Don’t go into the basement!” Yet, they keep going, heading to their demise. Everyone sitting in the theater knows it, yet the person on the screen is oblivious.
You feel terrible knowing you are handing over your son to be cut, and even worse that they have no idea it’s coming.
I cried, I sweat, I shook. Having witnessed Jack and Ben’s didn’t desensitize me at all. The Mohel gave the boys sugar water before hand. We had the ceremony, which consisted of lighting candles, handing the baby around, showing them Elijah’s chair, blessing the wine and bread. Both boys cried out for a few seconds when they were snipped. Afterwards they were given a bit of kosher wine.
Then we sang and ate.
All I kept thinking was, “I’m so glad I’ll never have to do it again.”Pin It