The Naming

It was a warm Thursday morning. Anat debated about doing the naming at shul or in her apartment. She was not a fan of rabbis. Marc could not stand them. Anat could have easily gotten a nice Sephardi stand-up Torah in her apartment. But she thought of her grandmother, who was devoted to her volunteer work at her shul. So, she decided the naming would be there, and the party would be in her penthouse.

A decent-sized crowd headed into her shul. She was a member and donor. She just disliked going. The phoniness of many of the congregants made her nauseous. Dan got up the amud and davened shacharit. Marc took out the Torah. Dan was not super religious. But he knew the ropes. Dan and his beloved are both Kohanim. He read the Cohen aliyah. They called up Tzipora’s husband, Elan, a Levi, for the next reading. He knew it all. Jake did shlishi. With tears, Dan held up his little jelly and latke-shooting baby. The rabbi read the prayers, and his little bundle of joy was named, Gillil. Anat was in tears. She picked the name after her grandmother. She wished she was here to see her baby at her happiest time.

They exited the shul and went to her place for a delicious or, as some would say, lish feast of bagels, bialys, cream cheese, lox, sable, white fish, cookies, and cake. The Arak was flowing. Everyone gathered around Gilli. People were snapping images. The professional photographer was an old friend of Marc’s. He was so happy it was a dairy party, he offered his services at no cost. Gillil was calm. She has not had any incidents with her powers since her birthday. But Anat and Dan knew Gillil would be a handful. Marc and Alana were briefed on what she could do. They smiled and just waited.