Jay took Daniel aside. “Rabbi, I don’t know what’s going on with you and your wife, but you need to get her back—soon.”
Mildred came to where Daniel and Jay were standing. “Rabbi, what can I do to help? With your wife gone, you must need a good supper. Please, I’d—”
“No, Mildred. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Daniel turned and walked away.
Mildred and Jay exchanged glances, both unaccustomed to hearing this sharp tone coming from their Rabbi.
The walk home seemed to last an eternity for Daniel, his conscience nagging him the entire distance. Who are you to talk to anyone in that tone of voice? But it wasn’t his fault—his wife was the one at fault, leaving him vulnerable to being unkind with others.
Jay was right, he needed to bring Naomi back, but not only from Ohio but back from whatever pit she had fallen into. His pace quickened; he must hasten his study of the false teachings she had embraced.
By the time the key unlocked the front door, he had determined where to begin. Her bookmarks would serve as a signpost. Back in the conversation pit, he opened to the first bookmark.
Genesis Fifteen. So, they’re teaching her the Torah, are they?
Highlighted in orange was verse six. “And he believed in the Lord; and He counted it to him for righteousness.” In the margin Naomi had written, “A relationship with God is to believe what He says and He will consider me righteous. I believe in You and know You love me.” It was as if Daniel could hear his wife’s voice speaking those very words—and it pierced something deep in his heart.
The next bookmark was placed in the seventh chapter of Isaiah, with verse fourteen highlighted. “Therefore the Lord Himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” In the margin his wife had written, “A young girl—a virgin—a baby boy—God with us! I believe You!”
Now he knew—she was surely being deceived. While in seminary he learned the Hebrew word for virgin in this verse simply meant a young woman. Their professors had warned them, “Christians will try to tell you it means virgin. Don’t listen to them.” He did remember wondering though, “If it’s just a young woman, then where’s the sign—there’s nothing miraculous about that?”
Next came a large laminated bookmark, also in Isaiah, in Chapter Fifty-Three. This also brought back a memory he had from seminary.
It was in Professor Silverstein’s class. He had asked, “Why don’t we read this chapter in synagogue? Why do we have to skip past it every year?”
All his classmates had turned to stare at Daniel while the Professor dismissively said, “It does not match any of the Torah portions or other sections of Isaiah which we read. You should know better than to ask this.”
About to read the Scripture Naomi had bookmarked, his eyes went to Naomi’s bold handwriting in the margin. “My Y’shua!”
Daniel slammed the Bible shut and went into his office to read from his own Holy Scriptures. He turned to Isaiah and read, “Who hath believed our report?”
Believed. It’s true, God did tell Abram that because he believed, God would reckon it unto him as righteousness.
He read further along. “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
Him, it speaks of a him. Who is this man? I’ve always been taught it was Israel, but . . .
Leaving the Bible open, Daniel gently set it down on his desk. He wandered aimlessly around the house for a few minutes and eventually walked into the kitchen. He looked into the refrigerator and found nothing, into the pantry and still found nothing. He eventually saw a box of chocolate chip cookies he had bought for the next havurah. Taking the entire box with him into the Florida room, Daniel sat chewing on the cookies and staring into space.
“You know, I’m getting too comfortable here, Anne. I’ve appreciated you and your mother letting me stay, but it’s been like two weeks already.” Naomi cupped her chin with her hand and shook her head. “This is crazy. I can’t run away forever.”
Swinging together on a hammock on the front porch, Anne said, “You don’t have to feel you need to leave right away. Mom told me to tell you, stay as long as you need to.”
“But that’s not fair to your Mom. I can’t do that to her.”
“Well, what are your plans then?”
“I don’t know. And you’re only asking me that because you know I don’t have any. We know each other too well.”
Catching sight of two women walking toward the house, each carrying a casserole dish, Anne nudged her friend. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Back out to your treehouse?”
“Sure. It’s beautiful at night. Dad kinda created a moon roof for my brother and me.”
About to begin their hike, the phone inside the house rang. Each time Naomi heard it, her heart would leap, only to abruptly be crushed. The caller was never Daniel.
Anne’s mother stuck her head out the front door, holding the phone in her hand. “Naomi, it’s for you.”
It was Daniel. “We leave for Israel next week. Come home.”
She savored hearing his voice, but could not extend the conversation one word more than her husband would allow. “Come home,” was about it. And only for appearances—so, this is how we finally make it to Israel.
He could not deny it was good to hear her voice, and it was obvious she was excited to hear his—she always got this breathy high-pitched thing going when she was excited—or nervous.
Hashem, may You bring my wife to her senses. She is a daughter of Abraham. Have mercy on her.
Now should he throw her Gentile Bible into the trashcan or should he place it back where he had found it? If he threw it away, she might resent him. And, more significantly, Daniel would be telling God he did not believe his prayer would be answered.
And, after all, as he had lately been reminded, believing was proof of his righteousness. He would choose to believe: Naomi would return home, see the accursed book where she had left it, and she, herself, would throw it away.
He placed it exactly where he had found it, but his eyes were drawn to her last bookmark. It was tucked into a place far enough back that he had avoided it. He knew where it would bring him—to the New Testament. Yet this would be his last chance to examine how deceived she truly was.
Daniel began reading about a member of the Jewish ruling council who came to Jesus at night.
He read that this man, Nicodemus, addressed Jesus as “Rabbi.” Instead of being offended, Daniel found himself intrigued.
Well, that’s not so unusual, actually. Jesus was supposed to have been a good teacher, so, sure, calling him a rabbi only makes sense.
He continued to read and discovered Nicodemus declared that he knew Jesus came from God, “for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him.”
Daniel read further into this passage until he became too offended to continue. This so-called rabbi had the nerve to tell him, a real rabbi, he would never see the kingdom of God unless he was born again.
I’ve dedicated my whole life to one day seeing the Kingdom of God. How dare you!
Daniel let the book drop from his hands and walked out of the room. At the threshold of the bedroom door, a voice (or was it simply a foolish thought?) halted his progress. “What if you are wrong?”
CHAPTER 22
Land of their Longing
“I’ll be in on Sunday.” What if he asks why not sooner? How could she tell him that although she ached to see him, she also feared the painful sting of rejection he would inflict? “I didn’t want to fly in during Shabbat, so I got the first flight they had for Sunday.”
“What time? Your flight, when does it get in?”
The razor sharpness of Daniel’s voice tore deep into Naomi’s h
eart. Was returning home the right choice? Anne had said she could stay with them a while longer. However, Ginger, a Christian counselor Anne had introduced her to, advised differently.
Naomi had explained to her, “He only wants me back for appearances—he can’t go to Israel without his wife. People will gossip.”
She recalled Ginger’s words: “I believe if you return out of consideration for your husband, God will honor that. It shows the kind of love Jesus demonstrated towards us.”
Daniel exhaled heavily into the phone. “Naomi, I’m waiting. What time? And give me the flight number. I’ll need that, too.”
“You don’t have to pick me up, Daniel. I’ll take the airport shuttle bus like I did when I left.” She quickly regretted hearing her own razor-sharp voice in retaliation. “Daniel, I’m sorry.”
“Forget it. I’ll pick you up. Just give me the flight number already.”
She gave him the necessary information and received a curt goodbye.
Ginger had a group of women she called “my prayer warriors.” Together they placed hands on Naomi and prayed fervently for her. Naomi also placed a call to the Women’s Center in Boca, but was disappointed to learn Melinda was out with the flu.
The receptionist, Maggie, said, “Can you talk to anyone else? Jeanine is here today.”
Sandy Marcus’ mother? “Sure, that’ll be great.” Maybe this is what Ginger would call a “divine appointment.” Naomi thought about Sandy’s mother a number of times—how could she not? The woman had been praying for Daniel.
“This is Jeanine. How may I help you?”
“Jeanine, this is Naomi, Naomi Cantor—Rabbi Cantor’s wife. Sandy’s friend.”
When Naomi explained how she, too, had become a believer in Jesus, Jeanine gasped. “Hold on, I have to get a Kleenex.” A few sniffles later, the woman said, “My daughter and her family will be going with you and your husband to Israel this week. But . . . oh dear, how . . .?”
Naomi didn’t need her to finish her question—her situation was apparent. Jeanine said, “Not only will I be praying, Naomi, but I will be fasting as well.”
By this time Naomi was reaching into her box of Kleenex. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank you. Your call is a gift from God—He has heard my prayers.”
The next day, Naomi flew home comforted with the knowledge that she was not alone. God’s gracious people were carrying her need—and Daniel’s—to the very throne of God Almighty.
She stared out the airplane window, gazing at the panorama of clouds, sun blading through in colorful prisms. The tears burned as she recalled the first time she and Daniel had spoken about someday going to Israel. That blissful day when they shopped for Sukkah decorations at the farmers market.
Then came the time they believed the Holy Land would be the destination for their honeymoon: the Land of Milk and Honeymoon. And only recently he had announced they would be spending their second anniversary finally in the land of their longing.
Could she endure the verbal assaults she would receive from the man she loved? As she blinked away the tears, with crystal clarity a vision appeared. Y’shua Himself stood between Naomi and the one rejecting her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Y’shua’s waist and the lashes meant for her landed upon her Messiah’s back.
If Naomi ran away from the one causing the hurt, she would need to take herself away from her Savior’s embrace. If she chose instead to walk up to the one causing the hurt and enter into battle, she would again be separating herself from Y’shua’s loving and protective embrace.
The airplane landed and Naomi prayed. Help me, Y’shua, never ever to stop clinging to you.
Both Daniel and Naomi needed to restrain their immediate impulse upon that moment of recognition. Daniel saw her warm and expectant face and was hit hard—he had missed her so much. He forced himself, however, to exercise control. She is no longer . . .
For Naomi, only caution governed her from running straight into his arms; yet she hoped. Maybe his arms would suddenly stretch out for her. If they did, she wouldn’t be able to run fast enough.
The only acknowledgement of a relationship between them was when Daniel took her luggage and carried it to the car. The drive home was done in complete silence. Inside their home, he carried the luggage into her bedroom. In a short while, Naomi heard the front door slam. She ran out to the living room, looked out their front window and saw him drive away.
Later that evening, after having showered and prepped herself for sleep, Naomi heard Daniel moving about in the house, eventually shutting the door to the den. She had been more at home in Ohio. She buried herself under her covers and tried to sleep.
Daniel, reluctant to return home any earlier than necessary, had been strolling up and down the beach. Now home, he hoped to fall right off to sleep. First the pillows just didn’t feel right. He flipped them over. Then he fidgeted with the sheets—why did they always have to end up uncovering his toes? This couch was not good for his back—and there was Naomi in their memory foam bed and . . . there was Naomi . . . there was Naomi.
He knew it wasn’t the couch, nor the pillows, nor even the pizza he had eaten before coming home. It was the keen awareness that the woman he longed for was so near.
Naomi, having drifted into a shallow sleep, awoke to a familiar sound. A splash. She ventured out of the bedroom and crept toward the Florida room. Daniel was feverishly doing laps in their pool. Like gazing upon what was off-limits for her eyes, she hid behind the dining room column and continued spying on her husband. When he walked out of the pool, she saw him looking around frantically.
He must have forgotten his towel. Oh, Daniel, if only you’d let me, I’d get it for you . . . still so lean, still so handsome. Her longing for him cried out for fulfillment, but this was currently being denied to her.
While she tiptoed back to her bedroom, Daniel dripped across the living room floor and into the guest bathroom.
The next morning, Naomi tiptoed into the kitchen and brewed coffee. The den door was still shut. Walking back, mug in hand, she almost slipped on a wet spot—Daniel must have dripped there.
Back on the bed, she opened her Bible and closed her eyes to pray. Another very familiar sound could be heard: from the den. Daniel’s chanting.
Was it her imagination, or did his morning prayer have a much more mournful resonance than when they did this together? And he is covering himself right now in the prayer shawl we used to sit under together.
On her knees, crying out for God’s mercy, there was a tap on her door. “Are you awake?”
“Yes, I am.” She quickly opened the door.
For one split second, he allowed his eyes to make contact with hers. “We need to talk about things to do with Israel. Would you want to eat breakfast together?”
“Yes,” she answered tentatively. “I can make us something.”
“There’s not much in the way of groceries here right now. Let’s go out.”
“To Marti’s?” Was that a smile he was trying to suppress? It was enough encouragement for her to take the plunge. “Daniel, I miss you so much. What can I do?”
“Don’t do this, at least right now. I’m not up to it.”
“Okay. Let me change . . . I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
He walked away and mumbled, “Marti’s will be fine.”
Again they drove in silence. Yet after parking in front of Marti’s Café and coming around to open her door, a look passed between them which called for an acknowledgement. In the past, when Daniel opened her door, he would reach for her hand as if she needed help getting out of the car. And they would then continue holding hands.
For a split second his hand had involuntarily reached down for hers, but quickly he pulled it away. He then turned his face from her. “Naomi, it’s not that I don’t still love you. I do. Very much.” He turned back toward her, his eyes moist and his mouth tightened. “But I can’t touch you anymore.”
She fell back down
into the car. With a penetrating gaze, she asked, “Why?”
Daniel opened the back door on her side and sat. Keeping his body turned toward the street, he closed the door. “You’re unclean, Naomi.” Hearing her agonized gasp, it was all he could do not to grab her and take her in his arms.
She now closed her door. Maybe they would continue talking without facing each other, but still it was a very private conversation. Bent over her knees, her head in her hands, she cried, “I should never have told you.”
“Naomi, it’s not because of what you told me . . . about the abortion. You didn’t ever have to hide that from me.”
She looked into the rearview mirror to see his face. “Then what do you mean I’m unclean?”
Staring back at the mirror, he said, “C’mon, you have to know. You committed blasphemy. What part of ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before Me’ don’t you understand?” His voice grew louder and more agitated. “You’re an idol worshipper now. You’re unclean.”
She turned full around to face him. “Then why would you want me to come with you to Israel? You’re being a hypocrite, Daniel. You just want me there for appearances, don’t you? I’ve never known you to be a hypocrite before. That’s just one of the many reasons . . .” With her voice breaking, she moved to face the front of the car. “. . . why I adored you so much.”
“Yes, you’re right—some of it is for appearances, but that’s not all of it. I’m praying that being in Israel will bring you back to your senses.” His voice now broke as well. “And maybe I can’t imagine being in Israel without you.”
She sobbed uncontrollably. If only he could take her in his arms. “Naomi, please, I’ll forgive you—and God will forgive you, too. Please, admit you were wrong and we . . .”
“I’d be lying if I did that. I could almost be tempted to do it just to have you back but, Daniel, I’d be choosing you over God.”
She turned to face him and extended her hand to touch his face, but he shrunk back. “Daniel, you’re the one who taught me to never choose anyone over God. Remember when you told me I was making you into a god? I still remember your words: ‘don’t give me credit for what God Himself is doing.’ I loved when you said, ‘God is the One giving meaning to you, not me.’ But I never thought I’d have to choose between you and Him.”
Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife Page 29
