A rite of passage

EVERY FILIPINO boy is brought up to anticipate the once-in-a-lifetime blood rite of circumcision. It is an inevitable part of growing up, something not to be questioned nor whined about.

Science has enlightened us that the natural process of growth will not be stunted without it, contrary to popular belief. From a Christian viewpoint, Paul has made clear that this Jewish tradition has been rendered superfluous by God’s grace, requiring new Gentile Christians to be circumcised only “in the heart.” However, Paul took exception with Timothy, whose father was Greek and mother Jewish, whom he circumcised as a token of respect for Jewish tradition so that Timothy could help him in his mission among the Jews.

My 9-year old son Paolo was born in Japan and is growing up with boys to whom this practice is alien. Needless to say, persuading him about the necessity of going under the knife to inaugurate him into manhood was daunting.

Fortunately, our church community has provided a moral boost in terms of reinforcing what we teach our children about Filipino values and “being Filipino”. His Sunday school playmates have eventually softened his resistance to the idea.

Plan A was for our boy to go back to the Philippines this summer with his two other Filipino playmates, accompanied by their mother. However, this plan soon proved to be knotty, as our unpredictable schedules got in the way and as we remembered that without the full entourage of mother and father, or affidavit of support and clearance from the other parent, traveling minors will be held back at the airport in the Philippines, per Department of Social Welfare ordinance.

Plan B was to find a doctor who will perform this procedure in Japan. For obvious reasons, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Luckily, our friends recalled that our other church, which is pastored by a Taiwanese, has a complete array of foreign professionals, including a licensed medical practitioner. Ironically, the more determined ones to find a solution to this dilemma were the mothers, and it was their instinct that led us to this Taiwanese doctor who was kind enough to dust off his least used surgery manual.

The doctor agreed to circumcise our sons on the condition that he would do it at the rate of only two boys a week. I was a little amused to recall that back home, old Mang Peping, who was not even a quack doctor, could easily cut at the rate of 10 boys every half-day in summer. At the same time, I was relieved to be able to put my son in the middle of the queue to give our neophyte doctor a chance to improve his skill before giving him a shot at making or breaking my lineage.

Paolo seemed relieved to see that his two friends, who were first on the line, did not move in duck-steps in their mother’s skirts a day later. He also took courage when they told him it was completely painless. Three days later, they even challenged him to resume their football.

On his scheduled day, Paolo was restless and nervous. I was surprised to see the doctor’s elaborate preparation for this procedure, as though it were a major operation. A dextrose was attached to him as well as a monitor that tracks his heartbeat and pulse rate. The procedure itself took more than an hour. My friends whose sons were circumcised first urged me to watch the procedure lest the doctor cut the wrong way. But I honestly do not have the stomach for blood. So I just sat beside my son, who continued to clasp my hand while calling my name as he fell asleep.

When the procedure was finished and he woke up, he started crying profusely without making a sound.

I asked him if it was painful.

He shook his head and braved a sound, “No, it was not painful at all!”

“You’re a man now. Why are you still crying?”

“I don’t want to leave you very soon.” *

Back to top