Open Writing

It was a Saturday morning in England in spring. The birds woke us with their lovely, liquid songs.

Everyone in the house was up early. Two-year-old Mia ran around in her pyjamas, waiting to be bathed and her hair to be washed so that her lovely curls would turn into ringlets. We could hear Mummy Viv and Daddy Richard upstairs as we prepared our breakfast and entertained the children.

Viv is Leon’s daughter, Richard her husband.

“Would you like a piece of Granny’s toast?” I asked Mia.

She considered my offer very seriously for a moment before tossing a very grown-up, “Not really,” in my direction and chasing her ball out of the room.

Her five-month-old sister, Imogen sat in her bouncing chair, huge dark eyes shining, mouth open in wonder at this marvellous world. She burbled and chuckled merrily to herself.

No doubt in their home, Richard’s sister, Joanna, her husband Matthew and their young baby Olivia, were also preparing for the Grand Occasion. Today was the Babies’ Blessing

Leon and I left our young family to prepare for their big day, agreeing to meet them at the synagogue at quarter to twelve. We fetched Leon’s son, Anton, from Watford, rushed back to the house in Shenley to fetch Leon’s yarmulke, then drove to the hotel near St Albans where Leon’s sister, Glo, was staying. Having caught our breath while Glo came downstairs and got into the car, we drove on to Edgware, located the synagogue, and found a parking place in nearby Stanmore, where the reception was to be held later.

The four of us ambled along the road, admiring gardens where tulips and pansies rioted colour in flower beds and clematis foaming over walls and archways. We went into the entrance hall of the synagogue, where we sat chatting and waiting for ‘our party’ to arrive. They arrived in a flurry of, “Find seats wherever you can, we’re late!” An usher found us seats at the back of the sanctuary, with a clear view of all that was happening.

A young girl was chanting a Torah passage as part of her Bat Mitzvah ceremony. We were impressed with her confidence and though we didn’t understand a word of the Hebrew, it was moving to listen to.

Rabbi Neil Kraft’s sermon of how God uses ordinary men as ‘His Hands’, illustrated by the tale of the rich man baking challah bread, donating it to God and the poor man finding it to feed his family, held us all silently fascinated.

The cantor’s tenor rang out clear, true and gorgeous as he led the choir, before it was finally time for the blessing.

Rabbi Kraft said that this ceremony, for him, was all about continuity:

When Viv converted to Judaism, he was her guide and teacher.

When Viv married Richard, he was the rabbi who officiated at the wedding.

When Mia was a baby, he officiated at her blessing.

When Joanna and Matthew were married, he officiated at their wedding.

“I take it as a great honour,” he said, “that you all waited for me to return from my sabbatical so that I can have the privilege of officiating at the blessing of Imogen and Olivia.”

Then he asked Mia to bring the babies and their parents onto the bimah. She was a delightful poppet-princess in a dress that swirled in purple and white whenever she moved, her hair a mass of dark, glossy ringlets. Holding her father’s hand, she led the way onto the stage, with Viv holding Imogen, Joanna holding Olivia, Matthew and Richard all following her closely.

The ceremony was a beautiful welcome for each of the babies into the Jewish Community, in the sight of God. Each baby was given a Hebrew name:

“Vivienne and Richard have chosen the names Aviva A’ya for Imogen,” said Rabbi Kraft. “I was rather surprised, as ‘A’ya’ is Hebrew for ‘vulture’! When I mentioned this to Richard, he asked if we could change the name, but it was too late. But I’m sure we can find something good about vultures, I can’t think what, but there must be something!”

Vultures, by clearing away the debris of death, play a vital part in maintaining the health and beauty of our environment. Not only that, they can soar effortlessly for many hours, without moving their wings, enjoying the views and the feel of the air cushioning them, and are beautiful and majestic in flight. There is more than just ‘something’ that is good about vultures*. This, however, was not the moment for a discourse from the ‘audience’.

The rabbi continued with his welcome of Imogen Ava Aviva A’ya into the world, wishing upon them the blessings of love and happiness.

He then welcomed Olivia Estelle Mayah into the community with equally loving words.

The official blessing was over.

All four parents had taken great trouble to dress themselves and the babies beautifully for the occasion. Viv was elegant in black and cream, with a black, cream-trimmed hat to match. Joanna was lovely in black and white, with a white, black-trimmed hat. The men were smart in suits and ties, and the babies were lovely in pretty dresses and tiny cardigans. No one thought to turn the lovely family group into a photograph, though the memory lives on, fresh and gorgeous, for everyone who was there.

We all moved into the hall for a kiddish of wine, juice and snacks, then everyone who had been invited by either Viv and Rich, Joanna and Matthew, or Richard and Joanna’s parents Andrea and Michael, ambled along the few blocks from the Edgeware Synagogue to Andrea and Michael’s home in Stanmore. Windows and doors were open to the mild spring air, the sky was bright and the sun chasing in and out of high cloud. The table in the dining-room was laden with a glorious feast. There was a separate buffet for the toddlers and under-tens. Children played on the lawn with the aid of plastic houses, crawling tunnels, prams, dolls, a tricycle, tea-sets, block-sets and every other kind of toy imaginable. Waitresses circulated with delectable treats for the adults who chatted, laughed, gossiped and caught up with friends from far places. Everyone baby-worshipped.

Mia was angelically good. She took hold of ‘Ganny’s’ finger and led me down the steps to the lawn and back up the other side about twenty times, collecting purple plastic tea-cups and saucers, tea-pot, milk jug and sugar bowl to place on the flower-box wall next to Great-Uncle Harry’s chair, where he sat basking in the sun and glorying in the sight of the children. Then she sat on ‘Ganny’s’ lap for a while, before spreading her favours to ‘Ganma’, ‘Gandad’, ‘Ganpa’, ‘Mummy’s buvver Uncle Anton’ and ‘Daddy’s buvver, Barry’. Eventually, having over-indulged in chocolates and cakes and no doubt feeling a little queasy, she sat quietly with Anton, moaning a little every now and then, “I want Mummy. I want Mummy,” but otherwise perfectly content…

Imogen was equally delightful, going happily from grandparents to great-uncles, great-aunts, uncles, aunts, cousins and friends of friends and only grizzling once when she needed to be fed. She was awake and chewing her knuckles, and anyone else’s knuckles, giving wide-mouthed, delighted smiles to everyone, and looking beautiful in her pink and white dress.

Olivia, too, behaved beautifully. After being passed around for a while, she was put into her cot upstairs where she had a lovely afternoon nap, then re-joined the throng, mostly in her mother’s or father’s arms, looking out at the world from her havens of safety.

It was a marvellous occasion, a Family Occasion of Note, which will go down in the family annals as a Huge Success.

The religious ceremony was deeply moving, while the family gathering afterwards was a marvellous opportunity to show off the babies to the members of the community in which they will be raised.

Perhaps, in this new century, when religion is frequently insignificant or non-existent in people’s lives, a secular welcoming of babies should be created, with just as much pomp, circumstance, celebration and joy. After all, the beginning of a new life is the most important sign that life continues, no matter what.

Welcome to this wonderful world, Imogen, Olivia and all babies!

Until next time… ‘here comes Treble!’

*I recommend the fascinating website, www.vultures.homestead.com

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By Isabel Bradley