Each one is different and special

Those of you who are extremely careful readers of my columns may have noticed some small changes that were recently made to my biographical blurb appearing at the bottom of the page. No, I’m not referring to the Rockower award addition. Rather, the previous description of “five delicious grandchildren” has been revised to read “six delicious” ones, resulting from the birth of Jordan Sterling (in Hebrew, Yitzchak Shir) Glenn, born to my daughter Gabrielle and her husband, Allen, on December 22, 2025 (2 Tevet 5786).

Jordan, still not much bigger than, though certainly as sweet as, a bag of sugar, has not yet had the opportunity to chart his own unique path in the world. We’re confident he’ll do so, using his personal distinctive talents and aspirations that he will develop as he grows into adulthood. But just not quite yet.

Except in one way. His older siblings each had a different, somewhat unusual, brit milah celebration. Aiden was a covid baby and his brit was therefore a covid one; masks required for all participants, the few attendees were socially distanced, and breakfast boxes and coffee were distributed to enjoy at home. (See “Our Thanksgiving Gift”) While no masks were required for Devin’s brit and our guest list was thankfully longer, we, and most especially our children, were still unable to include all family, relatives, and friends whom we would have liked to join us in celebrating, because Devin had a Shabbat brit, and it was thus limited to those who were able to be in Englewood on that special day. (See “Our Most Precious Blessing”)

Well, Jordan was certainly not going to begin his life by being outdone by his older siblings in the unusual brit department. And, as it turned out, he was not, since the eighth day following his birth was 10 Tevet, also known as Asarah B’Tevet, one of four minor fast days on the Jewish calendar. So, Jordan had that very rare fast-day brit.

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Don’t worry, though; this did not mean that that there was no delicious celebratory meal following the circumcision. Jordan had his party even if his still being toothless and not on solids yet prevented him from enjoying the bagels and lox or even some softer foods like scrambled eggs that typically grace a brit menu.

The solution was to turn the day upside down. Rather than having the ceremony in the morning as is usually the case, and either forego the meal or ask our guests to join us for a morning ceremony and to then return some nine or 10 hours later for a tasty repast, we began the festivities by gathering late in the day at the senior Glenns’ synagogue in Englewood for the afternoon mincha prayer. Immediately — and I mean immediately — thereafter, some of Jordan’s aunts and uncles (Micole, Daniele, Raquel, and Jason, and Aaron and Joy) brought him to the front bimah, where he was placed on the lap of Ray, my mechutan, who was privileged to serve as sandek, the person who holds the baby during the brit (and who spent the operation part of the circumcision staring up at the ceiling). The mohel, who had been carefully watching the clock to ensure that the brit took place before sunset as required by Jewish law, then performed the actual rite with his typical excellence and appropriate pace, finishing with plenty of time to spare.

Gabrielle and Allen followed this ceremony with a short program at which they spoke eloquently and movingly about baby Jordan and the two very special people after whom he was named: his great uncle Jordan Sterling Penkower (see “Groovy” and “Groovy–Part II”), who was the brother of the younger Jordan’s maternal savta (and my wife), Sharon, and his great-aunt Shirah Levin, who was tragically taken from us far too early, the sister of his paternal bubbe, Marla.

The accomplishments of these namesakes set a very high bar for Jordan, but that bar merely symbolizes the excellence that Jordan and Shirah brought to everything they did. It is that excellence that we know baby Jordan will bring to his life, doing the things that speak to his soul, meeting the challenges that he seeks out, and achieving the goals that he sets for himself. No one knows what they will be, but using his namesakes’ devotion to excellence as his lodestar, he will, we’re confident, score a 10 vaulting with ease and grace over the high bar they’ve set.

After the program and the evening ma’ariv service, we went downstairs and broke our fasts (or, for some, just ate) at a se’udat mitzvah — a religious festive meal — consisting of the aforesaid breakfast foods of bagels, lox, and scrambled eggs, and break-fast foods of pasta, home fries, and much more. These delicacies were accompanied by a few words of sports and Torah from Pop (Ray) and Grandpa (me), as has become traditional in our blended family.

Importantly, and deeply meaningful for all, Allen’s — and, indeed, the entire family’s — Zayde, the almost century-old Henry Glenn, a survivor of the Shoah, was blessedly able to participate in this simcha. His presence added a pronounced sense of elegance and class to the bagels and lox — when was the last time you saw a brit attendee decked out in the tuxedo that he recently wore at his grandson’s wedding? But Zayde always does things his own way, and we all love him for that. May he continue to do so for many years.

A brit is a ceremony that looks both forward and backward. It is only the first step in a Jewish boy becoming a member of the Jewish People, and all present had in their minds the many steps yet to come, the hard work and the smachot still on the horizon, a future still mysterious, unknown and unknowable. Indeed, as Allen recited the brit blessing — “Blessed are You … who has commanded us to enter this baby boy into the Covenant of Abraham our father” — we articulated our thoughts looking towards Jordan’s still to be determined future as we responded “Just as he has entered into the brit covenant, so too may he enter into Torah, into marriage, and into good deeds.”

But a brit is also a ceremony that remembers those who have come before, both in the names the baby has been given to specifically memorialize family members whom he never met but are part of him both in name and essence, as well as all those of generations past whose lives and deeds, joys and sorrows, challenges and accomplishments, and love of family, Torah and God have helped bring all of us to this day.

This year, the fast of Asarah B’Tevet, the day we celebrated with great joy baby Jordan’s brit, was a day which made all of us — the Kaplans, the Glenns, and all those attending in person, by Zoom, and in spirit — feel truly and deeply blessed.

Joseph C. Kaplan of Teaneck, a regular columnist for the Jewish Standard and the New Jersey Jewish News and a Rockower Award recipient, is the author of “A Passionate Writing Life: From ‘In my Opinion’ to ‘I’ve Been Thinking.’” He is a retired lawyer; he and his wife, Sharon, have been blessed with four wonderful daughters and six delicious grandchildren.