Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  That's when he cracked a small smile.

  "You are lying!" she accused him. "You would never leave me with those two!"

  While they were nice people, Gavriel and his wife Noa were a bit on the eccentric side, and not exactly the adventurous type.

  Uri laughed and Chana realized how much she missed his broad smile.

  "Ok, you got me. I have two weeks of leave and I've booked us a beach side suite right on Allenby here in Tel Aviv."

  "Really?" Chana shrieked in excitement. "I love you forever!"

  "You'd better," he said, and then leaned in and kissed her with more intensity than she ever felt from him—even on their wedding night.

  His kissing excited her, and she urgently kissed him back.

  "Chana," he whispered. "I need you."

  "You have me," she whispered against his lips. "Just don't shoot me with that gun," she said between kisses. Their hair dampened in sweat from the humidity; their hearts raced.

  "How far is our suite?" Chana asked.

  "About twenty minutes. I already checked in."

  "Are soldiers allowed to speed?"

  He grinned and started the engine. They rolled down the windows and let the warm August air sweep over them. When Uri wasn't changing gears, he was kissing Chana's hand.

  She stared at him as he drove, thinking about how different he seemed. He was still the same caring, generous boy from high school, but now he exuded a sense of confidence that she had never seen before—even at their wedding. Like her, he had been so preoccupied by the guests that he was exhausted for the duration of their wedding.

  When they arrived at the suite, Uri went to pop the trunk.

  "Let's come back for the luggage," Chana said, grabbing his hand.

  Uri grinned even wider than before as they made their way to their suite.

  Once inside their room, Uri flipped on the light, took off his rifle, picked up Chana and gently laid her on the bed.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the glow of his olive colored, toned abdominal muscles. His years of IDF training had transformed him from a tall lanky boy to a formidable, confident man. The arms that Hannah admired in chemistry class years ago were even more defined; he exuded strength in his attitude and appearance.

  Hannah sat up and kissed him everywhere she could—his ears, his face, his chest.

  "Uri Geller," she whispered, "Ani ohevet otcha.” It meant “I love you" in Hebrew.

  "I love it when you talk Hebrew to me," he said, smiling as she continued to kiss him.

  He paused for a moment. “Chana, have you—”

  “Yes, I visited the mikveh three days ago.”

  From there, Chana let Uri lead the way. The balcony door to their suite left open, ocean air saturated their room. For the first time in her life, Chana realized the holiness of intimacy that Uri spoke about years before.

  Exhausted, they fell asleep intertwined as husband and wife.

  CHANA AWOKE THE NEXT day to the smell of cigarette smoke. She sat up and looked at the clock, shocked that it was 1:45pm.

  She looked through the closed balcony door and saw Uri sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, smoking a cigarette. She noticed her luggage in the room. He had opened a suitcase and hung up her dresses. Fruit and snacks were on the counter.

  She smiled, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and slipped on a light cotton dress from the closet.

  As soon as she opened the balcony door, he quickly put out his cigarette.

  "It's a bad habit I picked up from the guys," he said, looking bewildered.

  She was about to scold him when she looked to her left and saw the beauty of the Mediterranean Sea. Her eyes lit up like a child. "The ocean! It's right there!" she exclaimed. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

  "Jet lag is rough," Uri said. "It's harder coming over than it is going back. I wanted to let you rest."

  He pulled her onto his lap. The balcony rail was high and made of concrete, giving them privacy. "Do you want to go to the beach?" he asked her.

  "Not at all," she smiled at him sarcastically.

  They walked into their suite where Chana poured herself some orange juice and ate a banana.

  As she dug around in one of her suitcases for her beach clothes, Uri embraced her from behind and kissed her neck. Shivers ran down her body. Thoughts of the ocean left her mind. She dropped the item in her hand and turned around to kiss her husband.

  Soon they were back in bed, gently making love. They wouldn't make it to the beach until sunset.

  26

  Chana had never experienced such happiness, spending two weeks in Tel Aviv with Uri, having him all to herself.

  Forgotten were the lonely nights in Avigail's bedroom. Forgotten was her frustration by the onslaught of questions by the Beit Din, the exhausting nights of studying Hebrew and Torah after finishing homework from Bryn Mawr, and the many awkward Shabbat services before finally becoming comfortable with the language, songs and rituals.

  Chana felt home in Israel as a Jew, not because she was Uri's wife, but because she understood her relationship with HaShem.

  Three years earlier, when she had told Uri she wanted to convert, she thought about the story of Ruth following Naomi, telling her, "where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.”

  But she was different now. She emerged from the mikveh as Chana—not to become Uri’s spouse—but as a proud Jewish woman, released of the traumas that burdened her. Finally, she felt free.

  Uri and Chana spent hours on the beach; they walked in the tide at sunset and ate meals at ocean side cafes. They walked the long stretch of the beach to Joppa, a place where Chana felt like she was back in time. Filled with cobble-stoned steps and hidden shops, Uri playfully ran ahead of her and hid around corners, surprising her to make her shriek like a child, stealing kisses from her along the way.

  He took her to Carmel Market where she a marveled at the beautiful scarves and jewelry. They drank fresh smoothies, ate the most delicious baklava, and sat outside cafes drinking coffee late into the evening.

  At nighttime they left their balcony door open to hear the ocean waves. After making love, they talked for hours. Uri talked about his life as a soldier, admitting there were times when he was anxious working checkpoints. He had no real relationship with the Palestinian people, aside from some Druid and Bedouin soldiers that served alongside him. He loathed being in a position of power while conducting the checkpoints.

  “The IDF says I have the power, but I feel powerless,” he confided in his wife. "People look at me like I'm evil,” he said with sadness. “And sometimes, when I see mothers with small children, I don’t blame them.”

  He paused, lost in his thoughts before he spoke again.

  “But then there are others, people coming and going alone, and I wonder if I might miss something. What if a suicide bomber makes it through my check point? People could die, and it would be my fault."

  "That's not true, Uri," Chana reassured him. "You are an honorable and decent man doing what's asked of you to the best of your abilities. Only HaShem can judge evil, and you are not among them. You are full of light, remember?"

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You know, when Abba told me we had to move to South Dakota for a year, I hated my parents. I was so angry; I didn’t want to leave. My parents gave me a choice. If I wanted to, I could have stayed with my friend Yonah. At first, that’s what I planned to do. But in the end, it was as if HaShem was pushing me to go. He wanted me to find you, Chana."

  “And wasn't I worth all of it, even Greg Moorehouse?" she flashed him a grin.

  He flipped her over on the bed and crawled on top of her. "I would break any man's nose for you, Chana Geller. I will always keep you safe."

  He looked deep into her blue eyes and felt a sense of dread—what would happen if he lost her?

  He thought about the escalating violence in Israel and the West Bank. With t
wo failed suicide attempts in Haifa and Tveria, the IDF was engaging in operational drills and significantly increasing check points. Although Uri served his compulsory time, he felt a duty to re-enlist. His commanders recognized his talents and encouraged his re-enlistment.

  Chana also wanted to live in Israel. Excited to finish her studies at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, she felt called to experience Israeli culture as a Jewish woman. Yet Uri feared that Israel faced more violence. Not wanting to worry her, he held back his uneasiness. Her father's failing health weighed on her enough. Still, he promised himself that if living in Jerusalem endangered her life, he would insist that Chana return to the States.

  Noticing that he was lost in thought, Chana grew concerned.

  "What is it?" she asked him.

  "Nothing," he said. "I just want you to know I'll always keep you safe."

  Chana smiled. "Maybe I am a very modern Jewish woman who thinks she can protect herself."

  "Oh, you can be as modern as you want, but I am still your protector," Uri replied.

  "Promise?" she asked softly.

  "On my life," he whispered back.

  THEY SPENT THEIR FIRST Shabbat together at the home of Lavie, one of Uri's friends in the Army. It was a long walk from their suite, but Chana loved looking at the stores and shops. More secular than Jerusalem, Tel Aviv was abuzz with nightlife.

  When they finally arrived in front of Lavie's apartment, Chana hesitated.

  "What is it?" asked Uri.

  "I'm nervous. What if my Hebrew is terrible? It's so different here than it is in the States."

  "You'll be fine. Lavie is really relaxed. And I think you will love his wife, Penina."

  "Ok," Chana sighed. “But if I make a fool of myself, you're sleeping on the floor tonight."

  "With you?" Uri smiled. “Anytime."

  They walked up a flight of stairs and Uri gently tapped on Lavie’s door.

  "It's open, come in," called Lavie from inside.

  Uri pushed open the door to a small, quaint apartment. Colorful, beautiful artwork covered the walls. A handsome man who looked to be in his mid-twenties cheerfully ushered them in.

  "Uri, Gut Shabbos!” he said with wide smile and patted him on the shoulder. "You must be Chana," he greeted her with an equally wide smile and a nod.

  "Yes, Gut Shabbos," Chana replied, glancing at Uri nervously.

  "Penina, Uri and Chana are here!" Lavie called in the direction of the kitchen.

  A short, curvy woman with beautifully dark hair entered the room. Chana immediately noticed that she wasn't wearing a head covering—not even a wig.

  "Uri, Gut Shabbos!" she said looking in Chana's direction instead. "Chana, so good to meet you," she smiled with genuine enthusiasm. Chana immediately liked her.

  "Toda," replied Chana. "You have a beautiful apartment. I love the artwork!"

  "And I love the artist," said Lavie. “My Penina has quite the gift.”

  "You painted these? They are amazing!" Chana said as she wandered the room and looked deeply into abstract images of purple oceans and orange wildcats.

  "Thank you," said Penina humbly. "I've been doing it since I was twelve."

  "When I was twelve, I could barely draw a perfect circle," Chana said teasingly. "I would kill for this talent!"

  An awkward pause filled the room before Chana corrected her slip. “But not tonight, it's Shabbat!"

  The group erupted in laughter, and Chana sighed to herself in relief. They moved to the small but beautifully lit table; the Shabbat candles glowed in such a way that all four of them radiated light.

  They sang “Shalom Aleichem,”—a traditional Shabbat song welcoming angels of peace to the table. Curiously, Chana noticed Uri's face begin to flush.

  Lavie turned to Chana. “Uri has a surprise for you."

  Chana looked at Uri and knew what he was about to do. As she expected, he began to sing "Eshet Chayil," a love song a husband sings to his wife extolling her virtues. Chana covered her mouth trying not to laugh. It was a beautiful song; she was just not used to hearing her husband sing solo.

  When the shock of his gesture wore off, she began to enjoy the beauty of the words, based on Proverbs 31. The song centered around the verses:

  "A good woman is hard to find,

  and worth far more than diamonds.

  Her husband trusts her without reserve,

  and never has reason to regret it.

  Never spiteful, she treats him generously

  all her life long...

  She senses the worth of her work,

  is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

  She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,

  diligent in homemaking.

  She’s quick to assist anyone in need,

  reaches out to help the poor. . .

  She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,

  and keeps them all busy and productive.

  Her children respect and bless her;

  her husband joins in with words of praise:

  “Many women have done wonderful things,

  but you’ve outclassed them all!”

  Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.

  The woman to be admired and praised

  is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.

  Give her everything she deserves!

  Festoon her life with praises!"

  They clapped when he was finished. His cheeks still flushing, Uri wiped sweat from his brow.

  "I loved it, Uri, but you know I can't sew!" Chana said.

  "Join the club," echoed Penina. "Still, our husbands should always sing our praises."

  She raised her glass in a toast. "To Uri and Chana, may their marriage prosper, and may Chana learn to sew!"

  "L’chaim," they said as they laughed and clanged glasses.

  After the challah was eaten, more blessings and food passed around the table. The group continued to chat, enjoying their wine.

  Lavie and Penina were interested in Chana's life growing up in the American West.

  "Do the Native people still live there. . .do they still have, what do you call them, teepees?" Penina asked.

  "Actually, yes," Chana explained. "They don't really live in them, but they use them for ceremonies and powwows. There is a lot of racism and tension there between Native Americans and whites. Treaties were broken and most of their land was stolen, so I sympathize with them in a lot of ways."

  Realizing that she was partially describing the situation between the Israelis and Palestinians, she stopped talking. She was relieved when Lavie changed the subject.

  "Tell us how you two met," he enthusiastically suggested.

  "Yes!" said Penina. "We love a good romance story."

  "Well, we met at a football game, because I was brave enough to start a conversation with him," Chana bragged.

  "I noticed you way before that game," Uri chimed in. "You were the pretty, outgoing girl that could fit in with anyone. You smiled at me the first week of school. And you were always with that pudgy debate partner of yours. He had a total crush on you, by the way."

  "Justin? No way. We just had a weird friendship. I can't believe you remember all of that."

  "A man doesn't forget when another man lays eyes on his wife," Uri said, smiling.

  "That is so sweet," Penina remarked.

  "Now come, Chana, let's talk in the living room while Uri and Lavie talk Army stuff."

  Chana followed Penina into the living room and relaxed on the couch. Feeling comfortable after a few glasses of wine, Chana said to Penina, "May I ask, I noticed you don't wear a headscarf or a wig. Your hair is beautiful!"

  Penina laughed. "It curls up in the humidity and drives me crazy. But my mom never covered her hair, and I guess I followed in her steps. You'll find there's lots of variety among the Orthodox women here. Do what feels right for you. If you lived in Tel Aviv, I could take you to the best mikvehs. You must come back up often."

  "Oh, I
plan to!" said Chana. "I am anxious to get settled in our home in Jerusalem, but it is so beautiful here."

  "Well, it's less than a 30-minute train ride. Come and stay with us whenever you need your ocean fix."

  "For sure," said Chana, distracted by a painting that caught her eye. It was of a father walking through a door, and a little girl holding her hands up to him, as a gesture to be picked up. It reminded Chana of the vague memories she had of her father when he was healthy.

  "Penina, do you sell your paintings?" she asked.

  "Which one are you looking at?"

  Chana pointed to it.

  "That one was done for a friend who never picked it up. If you want it, it's yours."

  "Really? I would be more than happy to pay you for it."

  "Take it," said Penina. "I insist. I'll wrap it up on Sunday and have Lavie drop it off."

  "Thank you so much!" Chana said, beaming. “It will be the first painting hung in our home."

  "Then I am honored," Penina said.

  As the night went on and after the couples said their goodbyes, Uri kissed Chana's hand once they were on the street.

  "They loved you," said Uri. "Who wouldn't?"

  They walked back to the suite hand in hand, not caring who might see them in the coastal city that was still bustling with nightlife.

  Chana had too much wine and was dragging her feet by the time they returned to the suite. Had it not been the Sabbath, Uri would have picked her up and carried her, but instead he helped steady her walk.

  Once inside, he gently laid her on the bed and snuggled in beside her.

  "Uri?"

  "Yes Chana?"

  "Sing me the song again."

  Without hesitation, Uri sang "Eshet Chayil" to her as she laid her head on his chest.

  When he was finished, she caressed his chest gently. "I love you, Uri Geller, full of light."

  "I love you more, Chana Geller, full of grace."

  She lifted her face to his and kissed him, and as it is commanded on the Sabbath, they made love and slept through the night.