Day 2: Genesis 17:1–11

“This is My covenant, which you are to keep, between Me and you and your offspring after you: Every one of your males must be circumcised” (v. 10).

Paul grew up in an orthodox Jewish home in a Gentile city. The Bible gives us only a few pieces of information about his upbringing, but based on these tidbits, we may draw a number of conclusions. The following narrative describes the events that most likely took place soon after his birth. The story line is fictional to help you picture the events, but the circumstances and practices are drawn from Scripture and the Jewish code of law.

“I thank Thee, O living and eternal King, Who hast mercifully restored my soul within me; Thy faithfulness is great.”1

The words fell from his tongue while his eyes were still heavy from the night’s rest. His morning prayers invited unexpected emotion this particular dawn as he soberly considered the honor that lay before him. Eight days had passed since the birth of his friend’s son. Today would be the child’s Berit Milah, an infant boy’s first initiation into Judaism. He would stand beside the father at the infant’s circumcision in the role of sandek, the Jewish godfather, assuming solemn responsibility—second only to the parents—over the child’s devout religious upbringing.

He had intended to arrive first so he could assist the father with preparations, but a few members of the Minyan, a quorum of ten Jewish men, had already gathered at the door. The small house was filled with people. The father, a Pharisee and Roman citizen, was an impressive man. He was one of a few men in the community who seemed to command a certain amount of respect from both Jew and Gentile. When all had finally gathered, the ceremony began. The sandek took his place in a chair next to the father, who remained standing. The infant was placed on the sandek’s knees, and the father leaned over him with greatest care to oversee the circumcision of his beloved son. He then handed the knife to the mohel, the most upright and expert circumcisor available in Tarsus. The father watched anxiously for the interval between the cutting of the foreskin and its actual removal. He could not help but smile as he competed with his wailing son for the attention of the quorum as he spoke the benediction, “Who hath sanctified us by His commandments and hath commanded us to bring him into the covenant of our father Abraham.”2 With the exception of the sandek, all who gathered stood for the ceremony and responded to this benediction with the words, “Just as he has been initiated into the covenant, so may he be initiated into the study of the Torah, to his nuptial [marriage] canopy, and to the performance of good deeds.”3

No one could deny the blessings of good health God had already bestowed on the infant boy. The sandek had to hold him securely between his calloused palms to keep the child from squirming completely off his lap. His tiny face was blood red, his volume at full scale. This may have been his first bout with anger, but it would not be his last. Had the ceremony not held such sober significance, the sandek might have snickered at the infant’s zeal. He dared not grin, but he did wonder if God was. The child lying on his lap was yet another piece of tangible evidence that God was faithful to do as He promised. Yes, God had been faithful to a thousand generations.

The circumcision was completed but not soon enough for the master of ceremonies. The sandek cradled the child with a moment’s comfort and then handed him to his father, whose voice resonated throughout the candlelit home, “His name is Saul!” A perfectly noble name for a Hebrew boy from the tribe of Benjamin, named for the first king of the chosen nation of Israel. A fine choice met with great approval. While a great feast ensued, the mother slipped the agitated infant from his father’s arms and excused herself to nurse the child.

Custom demanded that the father host a feast to the limits of his wealth. A man who offered less than he could afford at his son’s circumcision was entirely improper. If baby Saul’s father was anything at all, he was painfully proper. Yes, this would indeed be a child well reared. “I have much to learn from the father of Saul,” the sandek surmised.

Darkness was quickly falling when the sandek and his wife finally reached their home. The day had been long but the fellowship sweet. Gathered with those who feared God and worshiped Him only, he had almost forgotten this city was not their own. Tarsus, the city of the Greeks, had given birth to another Hebrew. “Dear wife,” the sandek thought out loud, “our Saul seems special, does he not?”

“Dear man,” she teased, “he looked like every other eight-day-old infant boy I’ve ever seen: mad as a wronged ruler!” They both laughed heartily. She prepared for bed as he reached for the Torah, trying to fight off the sleep quickly overtaking him. He repeated the words of the Shema, and then he walked over to the mezuzah fastened to the doorpost of the house and placed his fingers on it. He responded to the touch with the familiar words of his own father every night of his life, “The Lord is my keeper.”4 He crawled into bed and smiled once again. Then he whispered as his thoughts drifted into the night, “I still say he’s special. Full of zeal, he is. Just something about him . . .”