The 92-year-old ongoing story of a ‘brissing gown’

In future generations, seven grandsons, and 10 great-grandsons would also have their brit in the gown.

THE WRITER at his pidyon haben, 1956 (photo credit: COURTESY JONATHAN HOMA)
THE WRITER at his pidyon haben, 1956
(photo credit: COURTESY JONATHAN HOMA)
The setting is London in 1928, and Irma Homa was preparing for the brit milah (circumcision) of her first-born son. To add dignity and perhaps a bit of British majesty to the event, she purchased a small white gown for the infant to wear. Long and flowing, with fine eyelet embroidery, the gown was fit for her prince.
The baby’s father, Dr. Bernard Homa, who besides being a general practitioner was also a mohel – someone trained in circumcision – performed the brit. A year later, a second son, Ramsay, was also circumcised in the same gown by his father.
The gown then disappeared into a closet for 27 years, until 1956, when David’s first child and son was born. Irma had unfortunately died the previous year at a relatively young age, and could not witness the birth of her first grandchild. However, someone in the family remembered the brit milah gown.
The child, named Jonathan (the author of this article), was duly garbed in it for both his brit and pidyon haben (redemption of the first-born). His grandfather Bernard, who by then was a renowned mohel and head of the centuries-old British Initiation Society, performed the brit.
The gown had made its way to the next generation, and a multi-generational family tradition was born. The physical journey of the gown itself had just begun. It soon made its way to Montreal, when David and his wife, Anni, and year-old Jonathan emigrated there. There, two more sons of David and Anni were circumcised in the gown.
In future generations, seven grandsons, and 10 great-grandsons would also have their brit in the gown. As the family grew and spread, the gown made many trips between Montreal and the New York-New Jersey area, and in recent years, to Israel. The gown was a constant in family photos, and became a cord that bound generations of family with each other.
An interesting thread in the story of the gown centers on my second son, Gabriel. The year is now 1987, and my wife, Anne, and I were preparing for his brit milah in Montreal but could not find the gown. We were in a bit of a panic. Only two days prior to the event and on further searching, my sister Naomi in New York discovered she still had it from her last use. She hurriedly arranged for someone traveling to Montreal to bring it to us, someone who coincidentally or through some cosmic linkage, was called Gabriella.
Then, to complete one circle, the sandek, the person honored with holding Gabriel during the brit, was none other than Bernard Homa. At 87, he declared himself too aged to be the mohel, but was thrilled to be a sandek for the very first time.
We now arrive in Jerusalem in August 2020, where Gabriel’s second son was just born. Although a bit fragile, the fine eyelet embroidery of the circumcision gown has not lost its luster. An ancient garment and family heirloom, it is still fit for a prince.
Due to COVID-19 restrictions, the brit milah took place in Gabriel’s apartment with only a few other family members in attendance, and of course a Zoom link. I had the honor of being the sandek, and my grandson wore the gown.

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He was named Noam David, in honor of his great-grandfather who passed away last December in Canada. Another circle now complete.