by Ragen, Naomi
“Each man must sing his own song. As long as you live, that song is being written. Your life is your song. No matter how low you have fallen, even if your life is full of misery, find in it one good thing, and that tiny spot of goodness will grow and widen. In an instant, you can reach the truth, see the good inside you. And the moment you find that, you will find God.”
He bent his head. Lifting his legs into a lotus position, he balanced on the chair, his hands extended forward, cupped open.
Kayla looked around her, surprised. The entire roomful of people had taken the same position.
“Close your eyes. Let your worries go. Imagine tiny paper boats holding little candles sent off on a dark river, each boat carrying another worry. Watch them float away into the distance. You know they are there as they sail past you, but you are no longer connected to them. You are cleansed, empty of cares. They are distant. Listen to your inner voice without worry or sadness. Stifle for a moment your own human noise. Listen to the Divine conversation.”
The room went absolutely silent, the only sound the intake and exhalation of human breath.
Kayla imagined Bev’s cynical face. Defiantly, she closed her eyes. What will become of me? she thought. I’ve ruined everything! I’ve left school. She put that thought into a paper boat and watched it flow down the river, distancing itself from her. I’ve abandoned my parents in their time of need! How will they win their court case! My father could go to jail! We will be all over the newspapers. Our family will be ruined! This thought too she lifted and placed in a tiny boat and sent off. Seth! She saw his furious face, his pain, his humiliation. She lifted the worry from her mind, placing it gently in a paper boat of its own, giving it a gentle push to cast it off far from her.
And as each unsolvable problem rose to her mind, she gently lifted it and sent it off, until all that remained was an empty space, a dark river full of tiny points of light like distant stars, detached and irrelevant.
She sat there quietly, at peace, filled with a strange sensation that her hands were no longer empty. Like a lost child whose parent has come to claim him, she felt them tingle with the warmth of connection.
Everything was in ruins. But her soul was still intact. God was with her, on this hill, in this room, commingling with the souls of these strangers.
Oh God, don’t let anything bad happen to my family, to everyone I love, Kayla sang in the silence of her ravaged heart, tears streaming down her cheeks, the prayer so long dammed inside her suddenly breaking free. Let them forgive me, and let me forgive them.
“Now, very gently, open your eyes. Connect to the world again,” Rav Natan said.
She opened her eyes. Across the room, she saw Daniel. He too was weeping, as a lost child weeps.
She walked down the starlit path back to her room filled with a sense of having returned from a long, transforming journey. She was elated, and weary, her heart wrung with grief and hope. Footsteps came up behind her. She turned: It was Daniel. She waited for him to catch up, wanting to reach out to him, to know him. But he passed her without looking up, his eyes fixed on the ground, his back bent, his footsteps weary and slow, as if each movement forward was filled with uncertainty and pain.
“Daniel,” she called out after him.
He turned around slowly, taking her in, his eyes searching hers. She took two hesitant steps toward him, but he shook his head. “I can’t, Kayla. I just can’t,” he whispered, turning around and walking away.
Weeks went by, the days running one into the other. Mornings and evenings splendid with mountain sunrises and sunsets which blazed across the skies, extinguishing themselves in the sparkling blue sea. Day after day she found herself walking to the white tent, listening as she had never listened before. This was not a classroom, nor was this the kind of knowledge you wrote down in words on lined paper. It was something that melted into you, the way water melts into sand, she thought, invisible yet changing the texture of your being forever.
Wherever she was, she searched for Daniel, homing in on him with some strange instinct, longing to know every moment where he was in relation to herself. This morning was no different. He lifted his head, his eyes acknowledging her wordlessly. As usual, he sat in the back of the bus alone.
Impulsively, she followed him. “Do you mind?” she said boldly, amazed at herself.
He looked up, startled, his body stiff. Slowly he shifted over, making room for her. She sat down next to him. The flaps of their open jackets touched. He seemed uncomfortable, shifting over farther. She felt suddenly furious.
“Look, have I done something to offend you, Daniel?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, since that first day when you helped me with the wheelbarrow, you’ve done everything you can to avoid saying a word to me. You pass me by as if I were air.”
He was silent, shocked, she imagined, beginning to feel like one of those pushy, obnoxious American tourists who insist on getting their due from the natives.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry you feel hurt. I know by American standards, I have no manners. We Israelis are not big on ‘have a nice day,’ ‘please,’ and ‘thank you.’ We behave honestly.”
“Even if it’s offensive?”
“Have I offended you?”
“You’ve ignored me. I’d say that’s offensive, yes.”
“No. I’ve been aware of you every single day. Painfully aware.”
She inhaled. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean? That my existence here pains you?”
“Yes. It does.”
She was mortified.
“But it’s not personal, not you. It’s . . . Americans.”
What a jerk! “What do you have against Americans?”
“Wide green lawns, July Fourth parades, Memorial Day sales, and national mourning over the rising price of gasoline.”
“Real tragedies happen even to people with wide lawns, parades, and sales,” she said softly, rising and moving deliberately away. She sat down near Judith.
His eyes followed her, then looked out the window.
“I can’t believe I just did that!” she told Judith, humiliated.
“Leave it alone, Kayla. There are so many things you don’t, can’t, understand.”
“Maybe.” She nodded, not up to a battle with Judith, but disagreeing completely: What was there not to understand? Rejection was rejection. It was a universal language.
The morning’s dig went forward with excruciating slowness. Her whole body felt weary, her mind shutting down, doing the tasks by mindless rote. She was bored with digging, weary of the heat and dirt. And lonely. So very lonely. When break time came, she moved away from the others, impulsively walking down the hill to the ancient synagogue Judith had mentioned. She would be late getting back to work, but so what? What could they do, fire her? Not exactly the worst thing that could happen, she thought bitterly. Perhaps that was what she really wanted.
The area was deserted, being too hot in the day for most tour buses. She stepped inside the flapping plastic covering stretched over the roofless structure. The mosaic floor was magnificent. Dating back to the fourth century, it had a leaf pattern surrounding four birds with long, graceful necks. She wandered around, looking at the sea framed by every window. And then she came upon an inscription. The ancestors of humanity were listed—there was Seth’s name, right after Adam’s! She would have to tell him this, if he ever spoke to her again. And there was the list of the zodiac signs, but not the symbols, which were considered idolatrous, she read in the brochure from the Antiquities Authority that lay scattered around in piles. Next to that were the names of Daniel’s three companions, the men who by legend upheld the world. Adam, Seth, Daniel, she thought in wonder at the strange coincidence. She read the rest of the inscription:
Warning to those who commit sins causing dissension in the community, passing malicious information to the gentiles, or revealing the secrets of the town. The One whose eyes roam over the entire
earth and sees what is concealed will uproot this person and his seed from under the sun and all people will say Amen.
“This person and his seed,” her mind repeated, shocked. Children punished for the sins of the father.
She went outside, looking up at the path that led back to the dig. She turned in the opposite direction, toward the date palm orchard. Their swaying plumes were regal, their shade tempting and mysterious. They beckoned like a mirage amid the shimmering heat.
She climbed easily over the low fence, ignoring the KEEP OUT—DANGER sign, assuming it was meant to scare off potential date thieves. For what could possibly be dangerous about a date orchard? Falling dates? She smiled to herself as she wandered through the magical forest with its cool green shadows. She stopped now and again, looking up at the large orange-hued bunches at the very top of each tree, wondering how people could get up there to pick them once they ripened.
She walked forward, pondering this, and almost without noticing it, her foot hit a tiny hole in the road, a small inconsistency in the texture of the ground. Her toes dug in idly as she looked down. There was a small scraping noise and then, without warning, the astonishing plunge downward as her body was swallowed by the collapsing earth. In shock, she groped the dark earth that rose up all around her, her stunned mind unable to grasp what had happened. One second she had been on top, and the next she was on the bottom, the lower half of her body covered with debris.
It was so dark, with only a tiny pinpoint of light, like a forgotten star, above her. How far down had she fallen? Had she struck bottom, or would any sudden movement, any attempt to free herself, simply plunge her deeper into the abyss?
She thought about that. What a fitting metaphor for her life!
And then a sudden idea came to her: This is what it must have been like for them, those people in the pizza store in the center of Jerusalem: the solid familiar ground giving way with shocking suddenness, plunging them into darkness, pain, horror, and uncertainty.
She tried to dig out her legs, but a terrible stabbing pain in her wrist made her cry out in agony. Her head throbbed. She lay back, afraid to move, looking upward.
Am I going to die? she wondered, at first with clinical detachment and a touch of defiance, and then with horror and panic. She was buried alive in a place as silent and cold and dark as a grave.
Please, God, I don’t want to die. I don’t deserve to die!
She looked inside herself. Why do you want to live? Because I’m not finished. I’m not finished writing my song. I haven’t even started.
She closed her eyes, her life, all her struggles, suddenly too heavy for her to carry any further. She released them, falling to the bottom of her existence, as low as it was possible for a human being to fall. She felt something had ended. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. I am not in control of anything. She felt a sense of strange acceptance, of reconciliation. Without willing it, she slept.
When she awoke, she felt hungry and slightly wet. How much time had passed? Minutes, hours, days? Then suddenly, there was a faint noise. Human, animal, imagined?
“Kayla!”
A voice. A real voice, not a hallucination!
“I’m down here!” she screamed, looking upward. She saw the pinpoint of light suddenly widen.
“We’re throwing down a rope. Grab on to it, and we’ll pull you out!”
It was Michael and Judith!
She saw the rope dangling in front of her, but the pain in her wrist was too great for her to hold on. “I think my wrist is broken!” she shouted. Could they hear her?
And then suddenly the rope rose, disappearing.
She closed her eyes, afraid. What would happen now? She heard shouting, then the scrape of legs forging down the abyss toward her.
“Kayla.”
“Daniel!”
“Can you move your legs?” he asked.
She shifted her body and found to her astonishment and relief that the earth covering her gave way easily. She pushed her legs free of the debris, wiggling her toes and flexing her ankles and calves. She tried to stand.
“Don’t!” he shouted. “The earth might give way even more! Just gently, move closer to me.”
She inched her way toward him in the darkness. Suddenly, his strong arms were around her, pulling her up to him.
“Up!” he shouted, tugging on the rope.
They hung in space, his body encircling hers as if they were no longer two people, but only one, dangling in thin air, suspended and lost. She leaned against him, breathing in the sun-dried odor of his soft old T-shirt, feeling the strong, comforting bones of his shoulders and chest.
He said nothing, but she could hear the quickening intake of his breath as his unshaved cheek pressed into hers. She rested against him, exhausted, allowing herself to be rescued.
“Thank you!” she whispered.
His arms pulled her closer, his heart beating fast against hers.
Then it was bright day again as they suddenly reached the top. Many hands reached for them both, pulling them apart and into safety. Despite the sunlight, her body suddenly felt cold.
“Oh my God! Are you all right, Kayla?” Judith called.
“She’s all right,” Daniel answered, exhaling, his hands touching Kayla’s body professionally as he gently probed her wounds. “Her wrist isn’t broken, just sprained. But she needs to be examined and bandaged, and just to be sure, a head X-ray. Hey”—he smiled down at her—“you’re going to be fine, Miss America.” Gently, he brushed her hair out of her eyes.
She looked up into his face, so strange and so distant, yet so familiar. “Daniel, thank you . . .”
“You thanked me already on the way up, remember? You’re welcome. You see, I do have manners after all.” He grinned. “But don’t make a habit of falling into sinkholes, okay?” He brushed himself off and walked away.
On the way back from the hospital, where they confirmed Daniel’s diagnosis and bandaged her wrist, she finally got an explanation of what had happened.
“The drought has shrunk the Dead Sea. The retreating waters have left behind a high level of salt. When freshwater comes along and dissolves the salt, these underground cavities are formed, called sinkholes. They are all over the place. Didn’t you see the sign?” Judith told her.
“It said danger, but nothing about sinkholes,” she protested, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry for causing such trouble.”
“I should have warned you . . .” Judith bit her lip. “If anything had happened to you . . .” She shook her head, horrified.
“It didn’t. You heard the doctors.”
“But it could have. Thank God for Daniel.”
“He didn’t seem to think it was such a big deal.”
Judith looked at her, astonished. “Kayla, he risked his life for you! All we had was a simple rope. None of us really knew how much weight it could hold. At any moment, it might have given way, dropping you both. And then who knows how far down the two of you would have plunged!”
“Then why didn’t you just wait until you had better equipment?” Kayla complained, feeling enraged that he had put himself in such danger.
“Daniel wouldn’t let us. He said that every moment you were down there, your life was at risk.”
“He’s hardly said ten words to me! He thinks I’m some spoiled American princess. Why would he do that for me, risk his life?”
Judith shook her head patiently, patting Kayla’s hand with an innocent smile. “Such a mystery!”
15
She spent the next few days in bed, feeling both embarrassed and grateful. Everyone came to visit her, except Daniel. Even Rav Natan stopped by to bring her some fresh fruits.
She felt embarrassed, overwhelmed by the Rav’s presence. But when she looked at him, she realized he was just a young man, not a prophet. And his eyes were kind.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I feel sore, but most of all, stupid. I don’t even know what I was doing
there.” She took a deep breath. “In fact, I don’t even know what I’m doing here at all, Rav. I’m so confused. I want so much to change, to be a better person.”
“Our lives are sometimes hard, difficult to change. So change the easy things first. Fix one little thing you don’t like about your life.”
“I don’t know where to start!”
“The starting point doesn’t matter! Find a teeny-tiny spot you’d like to change for the better. Maybe it’s the way you answer the phone, or how you greet people on the street. Be consistent. Follow that one little spot, until you’ve transformed your whole life. Because you can’t change just one thing without it changing everything.” He got up to go. “Well, I have a tentful of people waiting for me! May God bless you and heal you.”
“Thank you so much,” she murmured, sitting up, feeling as if she had swallowed some medicine that was already giving her new energy.
She got dressed and went outside. The air had turned bitterly cold. Her breath made white smoke as she breathed, reminding her of Boston. A feeling of homesickness swept through her. She walked down a dimly lit path, her mind meditative, still full of the Rav’s stirring words.
“Kayla.”
She turned. It was Daniel. Her heart thumped, her palms suddenly warm and moist.
“Are you in a hurry?”
She hesitated.
“Another time then? I don’t want to bother you.” He turned around abruptly, walking quickly away.
She caught up with him, taking his hand. “Don’t.”
They walked side by side through the starlight, breathing in the sharp scent of the cold desert air mingled with the intoxicating perfume of honeysuckle and jasmine. She felt light-headed.
“Look how tall the trees and bushes are, how lush! No one would believe that we are in the middle of the desert!”
“The wind carries the rich nutrients from the Dead Sea and deposits them on the soil. All it took was for someone to realize that and to plant something and add a little water.”
