Bramson’s Beach & Ballsy Banter

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By Bennett A. Bramson, MPA

Some years ago, while working as Director of Commerce and Professions at the Greater Miami Jewish Federation, I had the unique opportunity to serve as the Chaplain for the Jewish passengers on Norwegian Cruise Lines ships for many cruises (later in my career, I also worked with NCL as a business consultant training the crews of the ships). But as a Chaplain, my role was to conduct the services for Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Passover, and Hanukkah.

Yes, it was a tough job, but someone had to step up and accept the mantle of leadership. A free one week cruise in a gorgeous upper deck outside cabin, in exchange for conducting a 45-minute religious service for the holiday and one 30 minute Sabbath service may be torturous, but, being the kind of giving person I am…I graciously agreed and accepted!

Also, being single at the time, for one of the cruises, the cruise line thought they would do me a great service and place me at a table with five single women, none of whom were Jewish. Some were certainly attractive and cordial, which would have made for a very pleasant cruising experience.

On the first evening, we performed the perfunctory ritual cruise dinner table dance called, “Meet Your Fellow Dining Table Mates,” and we went around the table and shared the basics.

For those who have not cruised before, here’s the routine. “Hi, I’m (insert your name here). I’m from (insert your city of residence here…and add where you were born or raised if you choose to be particularly engaging). I am a (add your line of employment here).” NEXT!!

Being the gentleman that I am, I invited my tablemates to commence the dance.

Okay, now the pressure was on. “Hi, I’m Bennett. I’m from Miami Beach. I’m a fund raising executive and I am traveling as the Chaplain aboard the ship for the Jewish passengers for Rosh Hashanah.”

Now, before the usual banal follow-up banter could begin, one particularly rotund unattractive woman turned towards me (not directly, mind you), but with a disdainful half twist of the body, and an evil eye.

“Are you responsible for circumcision?” she queried.

Rather strange question at the dinner table I thought, but I then responded. “Personally, no, I had nothing to do with it. Now, if you are referring to the Jewish people, yes, we had something to do with that.”

Having gotten some sort of affirmative response to her question, she indignantly and forcefully stated: “Well, since we will be sitting at this table together for the next week, you should be aware that I am the leader of a national organization seeking to put an end to circumcision.”

The silence at the table was deafening. It was like watching a tennis match, as all eyes now moved back across the table towards me, for a response.

“With all the serious issues facing us in the world today…famine, threat of nuclear disaster, virulent diseases, human genocides, terrorism, crime, child abuse, ecological disasters, political turmoil…I’d think that saving a few foreskins would be a bit lower on the list of priorities (around number 25,547,000),” I responded.

The laughter from our tablemates was audible and lengthy. Service point…Mr. Bramson.

“This is no laughing matter,” she said emphatically. “This is a barbaric and sadistic act which causes immense pain and long-lasting deleterious effects. We know for a fact that it has deep psychological impacts, and it has been found to be no more sanitary or hygienic than those who are uncircumcised.” Uh-ohhh, strong return from my penile adversary. Mind you, this was my first dinner conversation EVER about the merits of smegma in uncircumcised male equipment.

“About that pain,” I answered, “when I had my circumcision, I cried for a day and didn’t walk for a year.” “My point exactly,” she retorted. “I was eight days old and virtually no one walks for a year!” I answered to the delight of my other female companions, whose laughter had become audible again. Nice return shot for Mr. B.

Then, I continued: “Since you mentioned the harmful psychological effects, unless I am mistaken, I am the only person at this table who has experienced a circumcision and it has had no dele, no dele, no dele (I shook my head from side to side as I stuttered the word deleterious) …no bad effects on me.” The laughter from our tablemates was now reaching, shall we say, biblical proportions. Cross court slam for the Bram.

“This is serious,” she yelled as her face became crimson and she was visibly shaken.

But given her seriousness and angst (and my concern that she could have a heart attack over my appendage), it was time for a new approach I thought. A more forthright discussion of the realities of my religion (although I realized at this juncture that it probably was not worth confusing her with the facts, because her small mind was already made up).

“In Judaism, it has nothing to do with hygiene, but it is a 5,700-year-old tradition based upon a covenant made with God, called Brit Milah (or a bris).”

“What kind of covenant?” she angrily shot back.

“Having founded the concept of monotheism (a belief in one God), Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his only son, Isaac, on what is now the Temple Mount (or Dome of the Rock) in Jerusalem. God intervened and said, ‘spare the life of your son and sacrifice a lamb instead. However, as a sign of your faith and belief, you will give me the foreskin of each of your sons on the eighth day of their life (a day on which Jews officially recognize the child as a human being). This will be our covenant.’ Jews have had to overcome five millennia of hatred, worshipping in hiding, anti-Semitism, and abuse over our religious beliefs. You are free to protest all you want…but, it won’t change our religion, rituals, or traditions.”

Now, at this juncture, she began to babble about some meaningless statistics and pseudo-facts, which had no bearing on reality or religion. Unforced mental error on her part.

I changed strategies again. “Do you know how a circumcision is performed?” “Of course, I do,” she hastily replied.

“Well, in Judaism, we use someone called a Mohel. A Rabbi or other religious leader specially trained in performing circumcisions. And they don’t get paid.”

Her tilted head and puzzled look loudly explained her sense of confusion. “They get to keep the tips,” I said with a smirk. Once that sunk in with my Gentile female tablemates, the laughter commenced again. Oh, a great shot down the line for Mr. Bramson.

I continued… “and when he collects enough tips, he makes a little leather wallet.” More guffaws (sorry, these are old standard bris jokes in Judaism).

She stammered and responded with more hirsute facts based upon irrelevance and inanity. Her game was faltering.

Enough, I thought, time to put an end to this discussion and go for total victory.

“Have you ever had a child,” I asked. “No,” she quickly shot back.

“Well, I witnessed the birth of my daughter, the genesis of my own creation…a truly remarkable and spiritual experience and I can tell you that, as a man, the only way I will ever truly understand the birthing experience of women, will be the day I pass a bowling ball through my rectum.” Okay, it was a little too visual for this group, but got a good laugh anyway. I was on a roll…why stop now. It was one of those hit the net and fall on her side of the court for a point, kind of remarks.

But then I said, “let me make my point clearly,” and I reached for my zipper and offered to show her the physical damage of circumcision in person (which of course I would not do). The women at the table were out of their minds with laughter.

Game point, set, match, tournament, trophy, victory – Mr. Bramson.

She got up indignantly from the table, stalked away, and never returned for another meal, which was all the better for my tablemates and me as we enjoyed six more lovely evening meals together and in fact, I became quite close with one of them (who obviously had greater interest in seeing the Mohel’s good work).

Now, I know there is some debate over circumcision (although uncircumcised men DO have a higher rate of urinary infections and prostate cancer), but I am not one of those who really cares to ‘handle’ the topic any further in the future.

Oh, and by the way, the subject of circumcision at that table, was never erected again.

And one more point worth considering about Jewish shortcomings: Do you know why Jews are considered the most optimistic people on earth? No? Because before we know how big it will be, we are willing to cut a piece off. That’s true faith!

Until next week…keep bantering.

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