My son finally has a name. Say hello to Zachariah Chaim [my surname here]. You can call him Zach for short.
As I explained at the meal after today’s brit milah (circumcision), we named him Zachariah not just because we love the name, but also because history’s most famous Zachariah is someone we won’t mind our son emulating. He was one of the minor Prophets around the time of the Babylonian exile, just as the Jews were beginning to return to Israel. He urged the Jews to repent and rebuild the temple, and himself worked on building it. He also stressed the need for true piety, mercy and righteousness – not just ritual observance. In other words, he was a proactive Zionist who led by example and by deed.
Zachariah’s middle name, Chaim, was the Hebrew name of my wife’s paternal grandfather, who passed away this month, last year. But there is some additional significance. Chaim means “life,” and his birth is a symbol of a new life. It also comes at a time when my father-in-law, Marty Roberts, has just completed his final round of chemotherapy. He has waged a tough battle against his stage 4 cancer, and is so far, G-d willing, prevailing. When he heard we were having a boy, he was sure that it would be named after him (i.e. that he would die before my son’s birth). But he is still here, and a witness to our precious miracle.
