Jonah's Blog: June 2009

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Dear Daddy, Grandpa Abe and Zaide Gary,

I'd like to wish you all a happy Father's Day. It's so cool that you all love me so much. Now on this day I can tell you how much I love you back. And a special thanks to daddy for helping make me. The world's pretty neat so far.

Lots of hugs and kisses,

Jonah

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Virtual Bris

So Little Man, how does it feel to be loved by so many people all around the world?

Through the wonders of modern technology (a.k.a. Skype) Jonah's bris was streamed live into Melbourne, Australia where over 50 people celebrated your arrival.

When you're older, all of this technology will seem so passe - but for us it was still a great reminder that the world is a lot smaller than we may think and that the people who lov

e you most are never far away.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

How Jonah got his name...

After many sleepless nights and several discussions (with too many people), we decided to call our son Jonah – who, like his name, shall be a dove. The original Jonah was the son of truth (literally, the son of Amitai), and without bestowing too much of a burden on Little One, we hope that as he embarks on all of life’s journeys that he can bring peace and truth to the world and to all who are fortunate enough to know him.

In giving our son his name we wanted to pay tribute to those who have come before us and give Little Jonah the inspiration to carry this legacy into the future.

In calling our son Jonah we recall two of his great grandparents - Yudel Mark (Mirm’s maternal grandfather) and Yossel Bryfman (David’s paternal grandfather).

The name Mark is Mirm’s mother's maiden name, and so naming our son Jonah Mark Bryfman became a way for us to recognize the lineages of both families.

The Hebrew name for our son, which we formally announced at his bris, is “Yonah Mendel ben (son of) David ve (and) Miriam.” Mendel is the name of David’s maternal grandfather and the first husband of his beloved Buba (grandmother) Zina. The name Mendel is actually a Yiddish name, but it was important for us to recognize the role that Yiddish language and culture has played in both of our families. In fact, when our two families met, it was amazing to witness the power that Yiddish had in bridging the divide between Memphis and Melbourne.

At 8 days old it's difficult to really know what Jonah understands and doesn’t fully comprehend. For both Mirm and me the bris was difficult yet important. Just as he'll have the permanent physical marker of this occasion, we hope that his name can also carry forward the love that was bestowed upon him by so many people on this day from all around the world.

Jonah's Bris

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Hi Little Jonah,

Wow. Can you believe it? You’re a whole week and 4 hours old - practically a veteran to the world now…

The last letter I wrote to you (ok, and the first) was on January 20^th – Obama’s Inauguration Day. I was about 4 months pregnant and brought you to DC to witness the changing of the guard. And at the end of the day, after freezing our tucheses off on the Mall for 6 hours, jumping over walls with luggage, and barely escaping the all-out brawl that broke out in Union Station, I was so guilt–ridden for exposing you to the harsh elements, that I had to explain why I’d schlepped you there in the first place.

In that letter I shared with you the importance of bearing witness to history. I explained to you that your mom (and now you) come from a family of historians, so the history radar is always on… and with that comes a great inclination to size up our lives against a backdrop of grand, milestone moments. Your grandparents on your mom’s side, for instance, marched with Martin Luther King in Memphis during the sanitation strikes, on the frontlines of the Civil Rights movement. On your daddy’s side, your grandparents volunteered on a kibbutz in Israel during the Six-Day war – that was some honeymoon… And as for your mommy and daddy’s generation, GenX, as they call it, that was really known for, well, nothing – until that historic Inauguration day. Suddenly, we were connected, bound by a common cause and shared values, part of something greater than ourselves. Finally, it was time for your mommy and daddy’s generation to own a piece of history. It was finally our turn to define ourselves not by our apathy, but by our empathy… to engage collectively in leaving our mark on the world – just like your grandparents did.

So what’s all this have to do with your bris?

Basically, it all boils down to this. I’ve had great misgivings about this ceremony. I’ve been to only a few brises but have never really given it much thought, never found it disturbing - in fact, I’ve always seen it as a rather celebratory event typically topped off with hummus and whitefish. But now, as a mother, I‘ve been facing this day with some dread and great ambivalence. Why put you in such pain? (even though I’m told you wont remember it?) Why continue such a dated – and, if I daresay – barbaric ritual?

I still don’t have a decent answer to this. But, the one thing I do know is this: when I saw your dad bring out the little yarmulkeh today that you’re wearing now, I was filled with such joy and delight – I just love seeing it on your tiny head. So of course the next question was why? Why is this little yarmulke so important - especially for your parents who aren’t particularly observant (ok, who aren’t at all observant). And it came down to the fact that just like that historic inauguration day, you’re now part of something much greater than yourself. By performing this covenant, you become part of larger community bound by 4,000 years of tradition and shared values. This whole concept of moving from generation to generation resonates especially clearly today, as we become parents, our parents become grandparents, and you become connected to those who came before you and those who will follow you to live a life rich with meaning, compassion, justice, and loving kindness. And if that means dealing with a few seconds of guilt and pain, well, I guess that’s what it means to be “chosen…”

Love, Your mommy