10 minutes with … Cara Ungar-Gutierrez

c. 2008 Religion News Service PORTLAND, Ore. _ Cara Ungar-Gutierrez grew up in New York City in a Jewish home. Her family kept kosher, attended synagogue and observed the Sabbath. Her parents taught her the value of study, inquiry and following her conscience. Now 38, she’s a member of Congregation Havurah Shalom in Portland, and […]

c. 2008 Religion News Service

PORTLAND, Ore. _ Cara Ungar-Gutierrez grew up in New York City in a Jewish home. Her family kept kosher, attended synagogue and observed the Sabbath. Her parents taught her the value of study, inquiry and following her conscience.

Now 38, she’s a member of Congregation Havurah Shalom in Portland, and while she no longer keeps kosher, she attends Sabbath services and revels in lively discussions of Scripture.


In 2004, she married Rafael Gutierrez, and the couple has a son, Enzo, whose birth almost three years ago prompted a life-changing decision: His mother chose not to circumcise him, which she knew threatened to tear her family apart.

Circumcision is so deeply ingrained among most Jews that parents, even if they have reservations about it, go through with it. Ungar-Gutierrez is not a member of anti-circumcision groups, but chose to speak out hoping that other parents might benefit from her story. Her words have been edited for length and clarity.

Q: When did you begin to think about circumcision?

A: I was in my sixth month. Some of our non-Jewish friends asked whether we would circumcise our son. I was offended. Here were men, who weren’t Jewish, asking the question. Their perspective was that circumcision was horrible. I thought they didn’t understand what circumcision means to a Jew.

But my husband said, “We have to think about this.” I’m a humanities scholar, and when I calmed down, I did what I always do: I asked questions, did some research, thought about what I’d read, made some inquiries and talked to other Jewish couples. I spoke to my rabbi, who was very even-keeled about it. He said circumcision was a powerful, visceral, spiritual experience. And he said he’d support whatever decision we made.

Q: Was his argument persuasive?

A: Well, I couldn’t get my mind around it. If I were having a daughter, why wouldn’t she want a visceral, spiritual experience?

Then I asked myself, would I really accept this practice without question? It’s not something I do, especially in regards to another person’s body. I had been doing so much to protect my son _ eating well, walking, doing prenatal yoga. And no matter what people told me, I could not imagine a way in which circumcision would not hurt him.

Q: What about medical arguments?

A: Research suggests no medical reason to do it. Why cut off a piece of a child’s body if I don’t have to? I didn’t believe this is what would make my son Jewish.


Q: What will?

A: Celebrating Shabbat, keeping Tikkun Olam (Hebrew for “repairing the world”). Being Jewish is internal, a way of connecting to the rest of the world, to tradition and to history. It is a way of questioning as well.

Q: Did you consult your parents?

A: I called my mother, and she said she felt so strongly that she couldn’t bear to talk to me about it until I’d made my decision. My brother, who has two girls, said he would do it so that his son would look like him.

Q: Did your husband leave the decision up to you?

A: It was our decision but my struggle. Rafael didn’t want to circumcise our son.

Q: After all the research and interviews, what did you do next?

A: I imagined my son’s bris. If he was circumcised, it would be too heart-wrenching to hear him crying, to watch him held down _ even lovingly _ to know I had allowed harm to his body for no reason that I cared about. I love my parents, who would be terribly hurt, but no one trumps my son.

Q: How did you tell your family about your decision?

A: About six weeks before he was born, I wrote to all my family. I acknowledged my family’s views and apologized for hurting them.

Q: What was their reaction?

A: My brother called and told me that my parents weren’t speaking to me. They were too upset. I called them in tears. I had made my decision, but my heart was still open.


Q: And …

A: We decided not to circumcise our son. We planned a welcoming ceremony for the eighth day, the same day as his bris milah would have been.

Q: Were your parents there?

A: They would have preferred not to be in town, but I had had an emergency C-section and they came to help. On the day of the ceremony, my father left the house. We formed a circle around Enzo and my mother stood outside the circle, crying.

We wrapped Enzo in my brother’s tallit (prayer shawl) because my father felt uncomfortable allowing us to use my grandfather’s. My brother put his arm around me and my son _ I was crying through the whole thing. We washed Enzo’s feet _ because in desert communities, that was a welcoming tradition.

Q: How is it now, between you and your family?

A: Everybody loves each other. We are gentle, close, intimate. We laugh a lot. But my parents will not forgive us. They can’t empathize with me, and I understand this.

Q: What will you tell Enzo when he’s older?

A: Probably the whole story. I want to model this sort of inquiry for him. My parents modeled this sort of inquiry for me.

Q: Three years later, how do you see your decision?

A: I understand why Jews choose to circumcise. I ached _ physically, emotionally and spiritually. But I still know that this was the right decision. And I can’t help but believe that it was the most Jewish decision I could make.


(Nancy Haught writes for The Oregonian in Portland, Ore.)

KRE/PH END HAUGHT

925 words

A photo of Ungar-Gutierrez and her son is available via https://religionnews.com.

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