“Oh, darling, of course, I do. And still, every night, when I say my prayers, I think of you.”
“Mom, I found out something amazing. I haven’t told Daniel yet, or anyone else even, but I want you to know.”
“You want me to keep it a secret? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“For now. Only for now.” Naomi moved even closer to her mother. “Mom, you know, how we were told that we’re waiting for the Messiah?”
“Yes, dear.”
“He already came.”
Helen jolted up in her seat. “Naomi, tell me you’re not saying what I think you are. You know Sadie? Her son Benjamin converted. This is not what your secret is, is it?”
Naomi had promised the Lord she would never lie again. What was she to do in this dilemma? “No, I didn’t convert, I’m still Jewish, but, Mom, Jesus . . . He’s our Messiah.” Seeing the fear on her mother’s face, Naomi stood up and said, “Let’s forget about it for now, okay?”
However, it was not to be forgotten. Daniel came into the room and stood behind Helen, glaring at his wife. “Helen, please leave Naomi and I alone for a minute.”
Timidly, yet quickly, Helen left the room and joined her husband outside.
Daniel demanded, “Whatever you’ve been keeping silent about, now is the time to speak.”
Now is the time to speak? Was this how her prayer was to be answered? Not sure where to begin, the words “I call him Y’shua, and I love Him,” poured from her mouth.
Daniel’s face reddened and his jaw clenched.
“Daniel, I can show you—”
“Show me what? That you’re a traitor? Adultery would be better than this.”
“No, never, I love you so much—”
She walked towards him, but he pushed her away.
“Love me? No, I don’t think so. You’re no better than the Jews who collaborated with the Nazis. My parents told me about them. They sold out their own people.”
He now advanced closer to her, his finger pointing at her. “I married a Jew, I expected she would have stayed a Jew.”
His fists clenched, he spun around the room. He looked up and saw the picture he had once reframed when Naomi had smashed it. He pulled it down from the wall and smashed it onto the dining room table. “My-omi is now my enemy!”
CHAPTER 21
Who has believed . . .?
“She’s not here, Anne.”
Naomi walked into their living room and corrected Daniel. “Yes, I am.”
Still in his pajamas, he said into the phone, “Sorry, she’s right here.”
Naomi stretched out her hand to take the phone, but Daniel instead laid it down on the coffee table and walked back into the den where he had been sleeping for the past two weeks.
“Hi, Anne . . . Oh, I’m so sorry. . . When’s the funeral?”
A few minutes later Naomi gently tapped on the door which separated her from her husband. “Daniel?”
Wordlessly, he opened the door, keeping his eyes downcast.
“Anne’s father died. I’d like to go to his funeral. Would that be okay?”
He nodded his assent and closed the door.
By the time Naomi had made the necessary airplane reservations and packed her bags, Daniel had eaten his breakfast, showered in the guest bathroom, and vanished from their residence. Such had been the pattern since he had determined she was his enemy.
She hoped the five hours of traveling would provide a needed respite—not to be bombarded with painful reminders of the strife ripping their marriage apart. A temporary cessation of the phone calls from her parents would also provide necessary relief.
Her mother would call crying, “Sugar, please, make things right with your husband. Do it quickly, before it’s too late.”
Then her father would take the phone from his wife to deliver his own message, one of condemnation. “For once you had made us proud of you, but now you . . .”
Amidst the accusations and the profound sadness, every day experiencing Daniel’s rejection, still there was not, even for a moment, any doubts. The presence of the One who now lived in Naomi’s heart embraced her with a loving acceptance she had longed for all her life.
The One she was longing to see truly turned out to be Someone who was most certainly watching over her.
After checking her bag and receiving her boarding pass, Naomi made a quick call to Melinda to explain her sudden departure. The woman’s encouragement was truly a gift from heaven.
“Naomi, I’ll continue praying for you. Don’t worry.”
She sobbed a goodbye to Melinda. Immediately upon hanging up the phone she realized she had left her Bible on the nightstand. Her faith no longer a secret, she had become emboldened to the point of reading it inside the home. Now she would boldly walk into a bookstore within the airport and purchase a Bible. She found an exquisite leather-bound Bible. It had the special title of being a “Study Bible.”
As soon as she boarded the plane and awaited take-off, she opened her new Bible. There were a number of charts, with one particularly capturing her attention: Messianic Prophecies, with Old Testament references in one column and New Testament fulfillment in another.
Most of her flight time was spent studying this information, with the remainder of time spent in prayer. Please open the eyes of those I love. Y’shua, help Daniel to love Your Name as much as I do. No, even more. He already loves You, he just doesn’t know Your Name. And my mother, too. Oh, I’m sorry, my father also.
Reuniting with Anne at the airport was bittersweet. Naomi had resolved not to tell Anne anything about the trouble in her marriage—her friend truly didn’t need to hear about anyone else’s heartbreak right now.
“This was so nice of you to come. I guess Daniel couldn’t make it?”
“No, afraid not.”
They waited at the baggage carousel, while Anne explained, “The funeral will be first thing tomorrow. My brother Patrick will be flying in later tonight from Germany. The Air Force is giving him leave for a few days.”
When Anne pulled up to her home, there was barely room for her Volkswagen. Smiling, she explained, “Mostly a lot of people from the church—they’ve been a real help to Mom and me. They’re like family.”
With Anne’s help, Naomi brought in her luggage to this modest home, filled with people, flowers and casseroles. Like family—I wonder what that’s . . .?
Mrs. Holloway was a demure woman, but one who seemed to possess an inner strength. Naomi tried to imagine what it was like for this woman, having endured the pain of watching her husband deteriorate. According to the pictures displayed all around the house, he had been an athletic, vibrant man. Both Anne and her mother had witnessed him waste away before their eyes.
Patrick’s flight was delayed and when Naomi was offered the opportunity to retire into the guest room around nine ‘clock, Naomi gratefully accepted. She got into the four-poster bed and opened her new Bible to the Psalms.
But how could she not think about Daniel? Where was he right now? And what was he thinking? Was he thinking of her? A tear splashed onto the page—Psalm Twenty-seven will always now have a reminder of her heartache.
Because of Greg Holloway’s funeral, Naomi for the very first time in her life entered a church. Anne, concerned with helping her mother, whispered something to her brother Patrick.
A Master Sergeant in the Air Force, he walked over to Naomi. “Please, would you sit with us up in the front? My sister considers you family.”
“Thank you.”
When the organ played the first few chords of “Amazing Grace,” Naomi thought it sounded familiar—yes, she had heard this song before, but never before did the lyrics tell her very own story. She had been blind, but now she saw.
Only such an amazing grace could save such a mess like me. Truly amazing.
Unlike Marvin Berman’s funeral, this seemed more like a celebration. And the Pastor’s eulogy made it clear why the choir had also sung “Blessed Assurance.” The Pastor even gave
a date when Greg Holloway was born again and then baptized.
Baptized? Naomi would need to ask Melinda about this. Baptized?
“I’ve known Greg Holloway most of my life,” the Pastor told those gathered in his small country church. “I had the privilege of being the best man at his wedding. It was even Greg who encouraged me to go into the pastorate.” The tall gray-haired man softly chuckled. “Now, don’t go blaming him if you think I never should have . . . maybe it should’ve been Greg, and not me. He had a pastor’s heart, didn’t he? Let me ask you, when you visited Greg after his accident, did you find that even though you went there to encourage him, somehow he ended up encouraging you? Whether you found him in bed or sitting in his wheelchair, his trust in Jesus never wavered. Folks, I’m looking forward to seeing our friend again when I get to heaven.”
At Marvin’s funeral, it was like Daniel had to beg God to let the man into heaven. And even then, one only hoped. Amazing grace. I belong here more than I do at our Temple.
Daniel shakily stood up. “Good discussion once again. See you next week.” His knees had almost buckled under him—hopefully it went unnoticed. Maybe it was simply because he had been sitting on the floor for too long. I’m not as young as these guys, after all.
“Man, when are we going to talk more about going to Israel?” Mark ran to where refreshments usually were set out after their study time.
Jennifer scolded her fellow student. “Mark, you are so disrespectful. He’s not ‘man’ but Rabbi Dan.”
Mark turned around and snickered. “Ha! You’re just jealous cause I’m going to Israel and you’re not.” He continued in pursuit of the food, but only saw an empty table. “Yo, Rabbi Dan, where’s the vittles, man?”
Jennifer reached into her purse, found a pen and threw it at him, only missing him by a few inches.
Jake Marcus moved a few steps closer to Daniel. “You heard the Rabbi, his wife’s visiting a friend.”
“So? What’s that?” Mark whined. “No wife, no food?”
Jennifer demanded, “Someone let me borrow your pen. This time, I promise not to miss him.”
They were accustomed to Daniel joining in on this friendly jibing, but not tonight. Jake walked behind Daniel and placed his hand on his back. “C’mon, let the Rabbi have some peace and quiet, okay?”
Once the students were gone, the aloneness became all the more intense—more than what he had endured since Naomi’s departure two days ago. Of course, her departure took place before a mere trip to Ohio. When had it all begun? When was his My-omi taken captive by the Gentiles?
Daniel sank into the couch in their conversation pit. This had been his and Naomi’s favorite room. No, they loved their Florida room, too. Dropping his head to his knees, he mournfully sobbed.
How could this have happened? I never even asked her how.
An image of his wife floated before him. He saw the radiance, that special glow both he and her mother had mistakenly attributed to her being pregnant.
Was this new religion why she seemed so happy?
And even while facing his wrath for the last two weeks, she seemed to maintain an inner calm. That’s not the Naomi he once knew.
Then a vicious-sounding voice whispered, “There’s another man; she doesn’t care about you, that’s why she stayed so calm; she’s in the arms of this man right now, the one who sold her a line of goods about this fake religion.”
He would search their bedroom. Actually her bedroom now. Since learning of her betrayal, he refused to enter the room they once had shared. His clothes and toiletries were now all piled up in “his part of the house.”
Rifling through her dresser drawers turned up nothing he could use to confirm his sudden suspicion of adultery. He looked toward their bed. Her bed now. Why did affection still linger in his heart? Whether she was a traitor or an adulteress, either way she was undeserving of his affection. Yet he found himself sitting on her bed and smoothing his hands across the silky comforter; this is where she slept, without him.
His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a book placed on her nightstand. A box of tissues sat on top of it, partially concealing its front cover, but the word Bible was clearly seen. Not our Bible, but theirs.
He would take it to the conversation pit, turn on the gas fireplace and burn it. Just as one of his seminary professors had taught, this book is an anathema to our people.
However, once he held it in his hands, he wondered if he would find something written inside identifying who had beguiled her with this poison. Possibly there would be an inscription, but he found none.
The only thing he discovered was his wife’s notes and bookmarks. The book was obviously well-worn. Never had he seen Naomi so engrossed in anything she read. This dispelled the fears of another man—it appeared the only thing stealing Naomi from him was this book.
He walked toward the living room to carry out his book burning. But he was curious. What kind of notes had she written and why had she placed all these bookmarks in different places?
The only one he could consider a spiritual adviser would be Irwin, his old havurah leader. As humiliating as it would be to tell someone your wife had converted, he had to talk with someone.
Thankfully Irwin was home and after hearing Daniel’s plight, he had a ready answer. “You need to debunk the lies she’s been told. Don’t be afraid to look through her book and check it with our Scriptures. Daniel, my friend, it’s your responsibility to win her back.”
While still speaking with Irwin, Daniel’s call waiting came on. “Irwin, I have to go. Thank you.”
On the other line was Naomi. “Daniel, can I give you the number at Anne’s?”
He wordlessly wrote down the telephone number, then took a breath and asked, “Naomi, I want to know how this happened. I should have asked you before now, but now I’m asking.”
His voice was distant and icy, but finally he was engaging in conversation with her. “Daniel, I had an abortion once, before I met you.”
“You’re just now telling me this?”
“I was so ashamed. It’s hard even now telling you.”
“That’s why you were pushing so hard to have a baby, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What’s this have to do with your converting?”
“Since I’ve known you, I’ve been looking for forgiveness. Every Yom Kippur, I would hope I’d done enough repenting, enough of whatever that yoke of the law told me to do.”
After hearing about Melinda and the Women’s Center, he pleaded with her, “Naomi, they brainwashed you. You were vulnerable and they took advantage of you.”
“No, Daniel, that’s not true. Haven’t you noticed . . . I know you have because you’ve asked me why . . . why I seemed happier lately. It’s because I know my sins are forgiven, and a lot more than that, too. He’s the Messiah, Daniel. There’s all these prophecies, Psalm Sixteen and Psalm—”
“Now, you’re teaching me? Excuse me, rabbi, but what seminary did you train under?” He pressed down on the off button of his phone. He must follow Irwin’s advice. After all, she was not a rabbi and, as one himself, he would disprove everything she had been told by those who are the enemies of the Jewish people.
The last of the visitors having left, Mrs. Holloway told Anne, “I’m going to take a nap.”
This provided Anne and Naomi their first real time alone together. “We have a lot of catching up to do,” Anne said. “Let’s take a walk behind the house.”
Anne pointed to a place in the distance. “See that treehouse? Dad made it for Patrick and me. Can you believe it? It’s still there. I’ve been going up there by myself lately. Even singing there. It’s got great acoustics.”
Naomi read her friend’s mind. “Let’s go.” Once inside, Naomi walked over to a number of dolls stacked into the corner.
Anne explained, “I didn’t have the heart to throw them away, so I just put them over there. The Raggedy Anne is still my favorite. Don’t say it . . . I kno
w you . . . she’s not my namesake.”
With a few large pillows spread around a tiny table, they made themselves reasonably comfortable.
“Naomi, I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Remember I once told you something like we had different gods?”
“I’m not sure. I think I remember that.”
Anne reached over and took one of the dolls, placing it on her lap. “I was wrong. We don’t.”
“I know we don’t.”
“You do?”
“Anne, I believe in Jesus.”
“You do?”
After passing the hurdle of telling her own husband about her past, Naomi now told Anne about her abortion, the yearning to find forgiveness, and how a television ad brought her to find her Savior.
“But, oh my goodness, what about Daniel? Does he believe now, too?”
This unleashed the floodgates. “He calls me his enemy now. He hates me.”
There was no tissue in the treehouse and Anne improvised by removing the apron from her favorite doll and handing it to Naomi.
Choking on her tears, she told Anne, “He hates me but I still love him.”
Now came the time in the Saturday Shabbat Service for the reciting of the Mourner’s Kaddish. Daniel, as was the custom, asked all who were memorializing the death of a loved one to please stand as this was recited. “Glorified and sanctified be God’s great name . . . Amen.”
The congregation declared “Amen,” as many curious eyes studied their Rabbi. He appeared to be valiantly trying to continue chanting the prayer in its entirety, but his weeping was making it impossible.
Jay Marcus stepped onto the bimah, placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder and leaned into the microphone, softly announcing, “Shabbat Shalom, everyone.”
Daniel later told those who asked, “Sometimes chanting the Kaddish makes me think of all our people who were persecuted, from the time we were forced to convert, to the Holocaust, to who knows what may happen next.”
No one brought up the fact that never before had he reacted by weeping during this part of the weekly service. And no one brought up the two-week absence of his wife.
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