I like to follow instructions so, like Abraham,
eight days after my son was born, he experienced
the enschnippening of our people.
Many people came to witness it
to sing songs while it was happening
to observe our observance of the covenant.
We served tea.
Thirteen years later, and just two days ago
(as of this writing) my son became a man
in the eyes of everyone who’s ever
been enschnipped (and their wives) in front of
an enthusiastic crowd of familiar people
who sang along and wept along.
We served sandwiches.
Later that evening a similar set of people
gathered under three stars and sang about
how the week was moving from holy to mundane
and how everything from the next moments
was going to be different from all the moments
that came before – A separation.
We served tacos.
Tacos that stained the concrete under which
they were served. A stain which will serve
as a new kind of reminder of that day
for years to come.
We are a people who strive to remember.
With candles and cuts. With wine and scents.
With food, always with food.
Ever since Abraham did what he was told
We do what we were told in this
chain that never ends.