My son was born on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. The Jewish New Year. Of course he was.

While this freckled kid was still baking inside his mother, I ran into a very Jewish complication. Since my father is not Jewish, I couldn’t simply appoint a sandek—the person who holds the baby during the brit milah. This is not ceremonial trivia. The sandek is the one who announces the child’s name publicly, declaring to the Jewish people and to history: This one counts.

The ritual is precise. The father whispers the name into the sandek’s ear—quietly, gently—before it’s proclaimed aloud. No leaks. No improvisation. A choreography older than most empires that tried to erase us.

I named him Ophir Naftali.

Three months before the birth, I called the Chief Rabbinate of Israel and asked for a private meeting with Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau, former Chief Rabbi of Israel. I explained that I was a new immigrant, that my father wasn’t Jewish, and that I was trying to understand how to anchor my son firmly inside the Jewish story.

A few days later, the secretary called back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to speak with the Chief Rabbi himself?” she asked. “He read your letter and said he wants to come to your son’s brit.”

At this point, I was cornered by Jewish history. Turning down the Chief Rabbi of Israel is generally frowned upon.

So I did the only reasonable thing. I asked to speak with his father.

Weeks later, during a short Israeli summer nap, my phone rang. Caller ID: State of Israel: Ministry of Religious Affairs. Naturally, I assumed I was in trouble.

I answered.

“Dr Gabriel Sapir?,” said the voice, “This is Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau. I read your letter. I was very moved and wanted to speak with you personally.”

I jumped out of bed, still in my boxers........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)