Raphael Sugarman
URBAN GAZETTE (Tuesday, November 10, 1992)
"This will just feel like a little mosquito bite," says Abrom Romichon,
double-edged scalpel in hand, as he prepares to circumcise young Boris Belfer. Belfer
wears a wan grin, "I have never had a mosquito bite in that area," he says.
Belfer, 20, always knew that moving to America from Russia would mean new experiences. A
second language. Freedom of expression. The challenge of life in New York City. A ritual
circumcision.
More than 75,000 Russian Jews have moved to New York in the last 10 years--many of them
settling in Brooklyn's Brighton Beach--with more than 65,000 of them having arrived since
1989 alone. And for many, undergoing a ritual circumcision, or "bris," is not
only a necessary rite of Judaism, but a celebration of religious freedom in the U.S.
"Such a thing was not possible in our country," says Aleksandra Belfer, mother
of Boris and 10-year-old Nikolai. Religious rituals like circumcision were illegal in the
old Soviet Union, and punishment could be severe.
Assisting Russian immigrants with circumcisions has long been the calling of a Brooklyn
group called Friends of Refugees of Eastern Europe, or FREE. Founded in 1969 by Rabbi
Hershel Okunov and his brother Meir, immigrants themselves, FREE has coordinated
circumcisions for nearly 10,000 males. While at least half were between the ages of 10 and
20, many who have undergone the procedure were in their 30s and 40s and even older.
"My rabbi told me that it might be dangerous for me to have this done at my
age," says 62-year-old Talman Kopelevitch. "But I was in the Russian Army and I
was not scared. I feel much more clean physically and spiritually."
The bris (which in Hebrew means "covenant") is based on a passage from the
biblical book of Genesis in which God commands Abraham -- at the age of 99 -- to remove
his foreskin. Jews regard this as a symbol of the covenant between God and Abraham, and
circumcise their sons, as commanded, on the eighth day after birth. It is a central ritual
of Judaism.
Romicohn, the ritual surgeon or "mohel," estimates that he performs about 14
circumcisions a week at Brooklyn's Interfaith Hospital. He used to award each patient a
silver cup, but stopped when his list of patients reached into the thousands. The mohel is
assisted by a "sandek," or godfather, who performs the liturgical part of the
ceremony, offering wine. Nearby is Aaron Pasternak, the coordinator of FREE's circumcision
program, who was a chemist in Russia and chief of a military factory that built missiles.
He has turned down lucrative job offers in the U.S. because, he says, "I believe in
God and this is a better job for someone who believes in God." Also near is Dr. Sung
Kim, a urologist who supervises the procedure. Circumcising an adult is not terribly more
complicated than an infant, he says, though an adult may require more stitches.
Boris Belfer's circumcision takes only an instant. Boris--who now adopts the Hebrew name
Berel, for "Bear" -- looks down sheepishly as he is stitched and bandaged.
"Mazel tov," everyone cries as the godfather plants a kiss on his flushed cheek.
"Before this I thought that I would never go to synagogue, that I was not
worthy," he said. "Now I can go."
FREE, which is affiliated with the Lubavitcher Hasidic group, also helps newly arrived
residents find housing and employment, runs an accredited high school and summer camp and
organizes social and educational programs. For more information on FREE and its
activities, call (718) 467-0860. Another Brooklyn group, Shoroshim, also arranges
circumcisions; call (718) 692-0079.
[Similar assistance with ritual circumcision is available throughout the US.]