The other day I had the good fortune to strike up a conversation with an Israeli man. He was as secular as they come. He lived most of his adult life in Japan and then in a small city in Mexico. He kept close to nothing religiously. He was disconnected, uninterested, and removed from his Jewish heritage. He decided, in his 60s, with reservations, to move back to Israel for his two children who were ages 2 and 1.
We got on the topic of our kids and their difficulties. I told him how I just had a baby boy and his name is Kalev. Out of genuine concern, he gently encouraged me to possibly change his name because the name is apt to be ridiculed by schoolchildren. He labored the point, explained it to me, and made a concerted effort to convince me all from a place of care.
So I asked him if he could please give my son a blessing that his name should be a blessing. Why did I ask a man who eschewed religion for most of his life to engage in a largely religious act?
Reciting words is not necessarily a human act. Machines can dictate speech; certain animals can parrot words. But the expression of desire is more than human. It is a profound act that modulates into the spiritual. All the more so when it’s done through the tenor of a blessing. I asked for his blessing because I hoped that a deep and beautiful part of him could be stirred. That he can invoke the transcendent within him and draw it out from the depths of his soul to his lips.
Upon my request, he hesitated. But he acquiesced and placed his hands on my son’s head and blessed him with all his heart. That his name should be a blessing; that he should bring joy to his parents; that he should be protected from the taunts of any man.
It was a beautiful moment for both of us. At that point, something transpired. There was something deeper that happened. His words moved not only him but me as well. All this time I was thinking about how I can bring out of him something deep. The truth is he brought it out in me.