by Rabbi Yisrael Rutman

Brit Milah (circumcision) is as ancient as Judaism itself. There are only three commandments that derive from the Book of Genesis, and brit milah is one of them (the others are “to be fruitful and multiply,” and the prohibition against eating the gid hanashe, the sinew of the thigh). Its first practitioner was Abraham, who performed the operation on himself before he did so on his sons Isaac and Ishmael. Down through the ages it has been considered the sign of the Jew, though this has been somewhat obscured by the now commonplace removal of the infant male foreskin for health reasons.

Although the obligation of milah falls upon the father, he may appoint another to act as his agent, usually a person specially qualified for the task, the mohel. If the father is, for whatever reason, out of the picture, the responsibility devolves upon the son himself if he is old enough. Until then, a Jewish court is empowered to appoint a mohel.

In the Book of Exodus (Chapter 4), a son, Eliezer, was born to Moses. This happened soon after God appointed him to his historic mission to leave the land of Midian and return to Egypt to deliver the Jewish people from slavery. Moses decided he could not circumcise the child, because the journey would be dangerous to his health. On the other hand, he could not delay his trip; you don’t keep the Creator of the universe and his people waiting, even for this. So he took him and his wife Tsipporah along, intending to take care of the brit milah upon arrival in Egypt. On the way, they stopped over at an inn, and it was there that Tsipporah had a vision of an angel of death in the form of a snake devouring Moses because of his failure to seize the opportunity for the brit milah. (They were now close enough to Egypt that the child could be circumcised and then safely taken the rest of the way.) And so, wasting no time, she took hold of a sharp stone and did the deed herself. It is from this incident we learn that a woman may fulfill the mitzvah.

The use of a stone may seem odd, but the fact is that in this she did not deviate from the norm at that time.
She did not grab it because it was an emergency and there was no knife handy. Indeed, the Halacha does not require that the implement of circumcision be a knife, though it is certainly the norm today. The custom of using a knife (contemporary mohelim use a special, double-bladed knife known as an izmil) came about much later in history.

The Midrash relates that in the famous confrontation between David and Goliath, the young David’s chances against the giant warrior were almost nil, one of the reasons being the latter’s armor, which David’s slingshot stones could not be expected to pierce. Had it not been for a certain miracle, that is. For when David slung his shot, the metal armor covering Goliath’s forehead suddenly pulled away, exposing him to the now-deadly projectile, and he fell dead on the spot. In the merit of its instrumental role in David’s heroic act, metal, usually a knife, became the implement of choice for one of the greatest of Jewish traditions.

(Although it is not clear from the sources why brit milah, and not some other mitzvah, it could be because of another story involving King David. Once, when entering the bath after disrobing, he noticed that without tsisit or tefilin on (in earlier times they were worn all day, and certain exceptionally pious individuals do so even to this day) he felt naked, not only of clothing, but of mitzvot, of any sign on his person of his all-consuming dedication to serving God. His consternation was relieved, however, when he remembered that he still bore the brit milah.)

There is a related question regarding the use of a disposable knife, such as surgeons employ. At first, it would seem perfectly suitable, as long as its sharp and sterile. However, most mohelim prefer the traditional izmil, cleaning and re-using it over and over again. I’ve even heard of the izmil passing from father to son, the same knife used in literally thousands of circumcisions. And it’s not just for sentimental reasons. Rather, we have a principle that when something is used for a mitzvah, we try to find a way to use it for another mitzvah, instead of just disposing of it. This is the reason for the custom of saving one’s lulav until the following Passover to use as fuel for the fire in which the chametz is burnt. Better, then, to have re-usable knife, rather than one which is designed to be thrown away after one use.

The story of Eliezer’s circumcision has moral as well as halachic significance. We have to bear in mind that Moses was not going to Egypt to see the pyramids. He was sent by God to free the Jews from Egyptian bondage so that they could receive the Torah at Sinai. There has never been a more important mission, a more urgent undertaking. Tradition teaches that i t was for this that the world was created, and whose existence had been pending, until that unparalleled revelation. Indeed, if the Jewish people had failed to accept the Torah, the world would have reverted to tohu v’vohu, null and void. One would think that Moses’ miscalculation could have been overlooked.

And yet, God was ready to unceremoniously dispose of his chosen messenger due to his negligence (however well-intentioned) in an area of personal responsibility. From this we learn that even saving the world has to be delayed if the means to that salvation are unready. Though he be the greatest of prophets, he is not indispensable. For if something is not right with the savior, then the salvation will go awry, as well.

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