by Naomi Ragen
From then on, it became a habit of Shem Tov to find his way into the kitchen to be alone with her during each study session. He came to ask for a glass of water, to wash his hands, or to compliment her on her home-baked cakes. And always, his eyes sought hers. She could feel herself shiver with excitement as she anticipated him stepping into the room.
“Rebbe, I have a question.”
His eyes were brilliant, mesmerizing.
She felt her lungs empty of air. “Can a woman … I mean, would it be possible for a woman … to acquire and exercise this special knowledge?”
He moved as close to her as he could without touching her. “It is not meant for man or woman, this power. It is meant only for great souls, and only those among them who prepare themselves properly.” He looked into her eyes meaningfully. “You, Mrs. Goodman, are such a soul. A magnificent soul.”
She felt her heart miss a beat.
“You do not believe me?” He wrinkled his brow, but his lips were smiling. “What you could accomplish, with your natural abilities, why, it would be higher than the Prophetess Devorah, who was the judge of all Israel! If only…” He shook his head and bent down, as if a great burden had landed on his shoulders.
“If only what, Honored Rebbe?” she asked timidly.
“If only you would not be so afraid of reaching your full potential in this world. If only you had the courage to tear away the shells that hide your inner light.”
Daniella, mired down in dirty diapers, in cleaning the pin feathers off of endless chickens, checking heaped-up towers of rice for bugs, suddenly felt a flicker of hope in her beaten-down soul. “How can I … I mean, how does a person purify themselves, if they wanted to … if they were interested in…”
“They need only attach themselves body and soul to a tzaddik who is already at that level. They must never question, even if they don’t fully understand. They must be like Abraham when God tells him to sacrifice his beloved, only son. They must saddle up the donkey and ride forward unquestioningly. Only then will they rise to the level necessary.” He hesitated, his flow of words stopped. He seemed to be examining her carefully. Satisfied, he pressed on. “A person must pray devoutly. Fill their minds and souls with holiness and abstain from all sexual intercourse.…”
He saw her astonishment and bewilderment, but pressed on: “You must have complete mastery over your body before you can complete the mastery over your soul.”
She looked down, staring at the floor, her eyes a bit wild.
“Nothing in life is trivial,” he went on soothingly. “Everything has meaning. The kabbalist seeks to create acts of perfect beauty in the physical world, to crack open the shell and reveal the light within each tiny object in the material world. Sex, too, has its evil shells. To crack open that shell and release the light takes great mastery. Everything in our world is a dream in the mind of God.”
“A dream in the mind of God,” she repeated, as if hypnotized by the words. And in a real sense, she was, her rational mind receding to leave room for this new information, which seemed more real than her daily life or her past understanding of life and the universe.
Her own life with all its suffering, then, was also just a dream. Shlomie was part of that dream, a part that no longer made sense. What had he to do with her, really? She must purify herself to be ready to gain this secret knowledge, those infinite, indescribable rewards. Only then would she be fit to nurture and educate the numerous little souls entrusted to her care by God; only then would she fulfill her obligations as a true mother. She wanted so much for their lives to be a good dream.
A few days later, Shem Tov suddenly called Shlomie over. It was 2 a.m. in the inky forest that surrounds Jerusalem. They had all been shouting in an ecstasy of prayer since midnight.
“I have had a great revelation,” Shem Tov told him. “It was about you.”
The idea of his sainted Messiah having a vision about him before the Celestial Throne was overwhelming. “Really, about me?” He was excited, happy as a child.
“Yes. You are to spend a month at the grave of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov in Uman and read the entire Book of Psalms a hundred times by his gravesite, saying each word out loud. If you do this faithfully, you will finally break through the barriers that are preventing you from reaching the Holy Light.”
Shlomie was in ecstasy. Just the idea that he had traveled so far and that the goal that had eluded him for so long was just around the corner was earth-shattering. But then his mind was suddenly troubled. “Rebbe, isn’t Uman in the Ukraine? What of my wife, my children?”
“What of them? You are doing this for them, are you not? The angels assure me that your wife will fully understand your absence, and when you return, all strife in your marriage will disappear. You will be like a bride and groom on your wedding day once more, full of the grace of God, your connection stronger and more loving than ever.”
Shlomie’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “That is all I wish for, Rebbe.”
Ignoring Daniella’s vociferous protests, warnings, and exhortations, Shlomie said only, “My dear wife, when I return our lives will be set right again. You must believe me.” Then he shut the door behind him, running down the steps to a waiting taxi.
* * *
The day after Shlomie left, Gabriel came down with the chicken pox. While it seemed to be a mild case, it soon spread to Eli, Menchie, and Shoshana, who had the worst cases Daniella had ever seen. All four of them had high fevers, and the little ones even had spots on their tongues and the insides of their cheeks! It was a nightmare. She kept them in the bathtub more or less constantly, covering them with calamine lotion four and five times a day. Menchie, though, was already taking antibiotics for a very painful ear infection. The poor child was hysterical, keeping her up all night. In the morning, half-dead from fatigue, she realized the refrigerator was almost empty. But with Menchie in this state, it was impossible to leave him for a minute with the cleaning girl or a baby-sitter. There was nothing left for her to do but wait for Amalya to come home from school so she could send her out shopping.
Even on the days that the cleaning girl did come, the house was a wreck within an hour, the sick children spreading out their toys and games all over the place. It wasn’t a time for discipline, Daniella told herself, just glad to keep them occupied. In the evening, everyone, sick and well, were on top of her head, all wanting attention, all crying for their father, whom they missed terribly. She did her best to comfort them, to keep to a routine, but it was impossible. The laundry piled up because she was playing cards with Shoshana instead of loading the machine. And when they were finally in bed and asleep, she had no strength to fold and iron and put away the clothes that were still in the dryer from the day before.
Yossi and Gabriel, who usually played Legos nicely, were terribly out of sorts, demolishing each other’s creations after hours of painstaking work and catapulting the red, white, and blue bricks everywhere. The result was all-out war, the two of them brutalizing each other. Every time Daniella got up to intervene, or to take care of Menchie or Eli, she found Shoshana clinging to her legs hysterically.
Amalya, usually so well behaved, got into a screaming fit with Duvie: “Where have you been, you stinker! Ima is collapsing from tiredness and you are smoking with your friends in Zion Square and who knows what else,” she shouted at him, whereupon he slammed her roughly against the wall and told her to mind her own business.
A clamor rose from their apartment, a cacophony of misery, Daniella thought, listening to her screaming, crying children, who were also unfed and unwashed. Mortified, Daniella shut the windows, ashamed the neighbors might hear. Then she sat down, immobilized by the task ahead of her. When she thought nothing could possibly get worse, there was a knock on the door.
Oh no! she thought. Could it be that Shem Tov was still going to show up, even if Shlomie was out of the country? Duvie opened the door, and sure enough, in walked Shem Tov and his Hassidim.
He looked arou
nd at the horrible mess, heard the screaming, fighting children, and turned to Hod, Goldschmidt, and Batlan, making a small gesture with his hand. Immediately, the three spread out through the house, picking up toys, sweeping and mopping. Shem Tov made a call, and soon the pizza delivery boy appeared with five boxes. Daniella didn’t hear what they said to the children, but suddenly, there was absolute silence, except for the whimper of Menchie, who quieted down as soon as Hod placed him in her arms. Like robots, the children sat down around the table and ate their pizza, and when they were done, they picked up their plates and cups and took them into the kitchen, placing them in the sink. Without being told, Amalya loaded the dishwasher while Duvie helped Menchie and Eli with their baths. With Hod, Batlan, and Goldschmidt supervising, the children got into pajamas and brushed their teeth, climbing into bed without a murmur. Soon, there was quiet.
Daniella looked around at her spotless house, sighing with relief as she put Menchie into his crib.
“How old is he?” Shem Tov asked her, smiling at the baby.
“Almost two and a half.” She smiled back. “And really old enough for a bed. We’ve just been so busy.”
“I’ll bring one for you tomorrow. The boys will take apart the crib and put it into your storage shed.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you or them … after all you’ve done, Rebbe.”
“Do you ask God to make the sunrise? Are you embarrassed to ask Him to keep the world spinning? To keep your children well? We are all so needy. It is arrogant to think otherwise.”
She began to cry, great heaving sobs of tragic pain that filled her with the sure knowledge that she could not go on with her life as it was. Not an instant, not a split second more. She did not see Shem Tov motion to Hod, Batlan, and Goldschmidt, who hurried out of the house, leaving him alone in the living room with Daniella Goodman.
He handed her a tissue.
She accepted it gratefully, their hands suddenly brushing across each other. She moved away quickly, as if she’d been burnt. “I’m sorry!”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I know that the rebbe is a tzaddik and all you do, you do in purity. But my mind, it makes me see things, things I don’t want to see. When you look at me…”
“What, what do you see? Tell me,” he demanded, almost harshly.
She was stunned out of her reticence and embarrassment. “In your eyes. I see…” She choked.
“Tell me!” he demanded.
She covered her face with both hands, shaking.
Suddenly, his voice softened, becoming secretive, intimate. “Please, Daniella. Please tell me what it is you see in my eyes.”
He had used her first name! She looked down at the tips of her shoes, shaking with emotion. “I see desire,” she finally whispered.
“And what if you are not mistaken? What if that, too, is God’s will?”
She looked up at him, pierced with uncertainty, shock, and shame. “Oh, how could it be?”
“And what if I told you that was God’s plan for us? To unite our souls?”
She shook her head and turned away. “I am a married woman!”
“To whom are you married?”
“Shlomie,” she answered in confusion.
“No. You are married to God. Shlomie is just a messenger. If he succeeds in bringing you closer to God, he is your rightful husband on earth. But if not … Who do you want more, Shlomie or God?”
“God,” she said without hesitation.
“What is desire?” he said, his eyes hypnotic. “Desire is a spark that rises out of flames, a spark of holiness. You know that I am the only one who can succeed in bringing these sparks out of you. What is your desire? What is my desire? We both desire God, in purity and holiness. You must give in to God, and so must I. That’s it. That’s everything you need to know.”
“Still, I think … Isn’t it…? It must be forbidden.…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly. She was suddenly not sure of anything anymore.
“What’s forbidden?” He raised his voice demandingly, passionately.
“For you to betray your wife.”
“How do I ‘betray’?” he said angrily. “Have I touched you? We are speaking here only of feelings. Do you think it is forbidden to have feelings? Yes, I have a wife, but I am also a servant of the Lord Most High, and He has given me the task of doing tikkunim in His world. It is my task to fix what is broken in the world of the spirit. And sometimes, in order to make something that is broken whole again, I must penetrate deeply, go inside the shell. You can’t see the hidden flame that is dying within you, but I can. So clearly. It is my task in the world, my duty, to bring those sparks within you to life again. And you, what do you see? Desire, jealousy, a married woman, adultery,” he mocked. “Have we done anything together that is impure?” he challenged her.
She suddenly felt like a stupid child. Of course, they hadn’t. He was talking of something else entirely, and she, with her impure mind and her defective, lowly character, had brought this lofty discussion down into the gutter, made it all ugly. She had simply misunderstood. She hung her head, ashamed.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he suddenly asked.
She shook her head.
“Batsheva as she bathed on the rooftop.”
Her blood ran hot, then cold. She shivered. No, she had not misunderstood.
“You must know, Daniella, your husband no longer loves you. Otherwise, why would he leave you alone so long? And I see in your soul that you no longer love him.”
“Please, don’t say such things. Don’t condemn me to such a fate!”
“Your fate is in your own hands, Daniella. Tell me, am I mistaken?”
She looked at him, shivering in dread.
“When King David came upon Bathsheba, was she not a married woman? And was not he a married man?”
“Yes, and it was a terrible sin, and David was punished for it.”
“No, he wasn’t. Because it was God’s will. When David married Bathsheba, she was already a widow. And a man can take more than one wife. Our holy forefathers did: Abraham and Jacob.”
She looked down, still listening intently.
“And their union, was it not blessed? From Bathsheba was born King Solomon, the wisest leader the Jewish nation has ever known. And from that union, are we not told that the Messiah himself will be born?”
A lengthy silence descended on the room.
He broke it. “This is all God’s will. It’s not up to me or to you. Please don’t resist what I am telling you! You feel trapped, but the door is open. God has heard your prayers and opened it for you, Daniella. And for me.”
“Please … don’t…”
“If for once you would give up your very rational mind, and you would agree to feel deeply, I would not need to say another word. You would no longer need proofs. You would experience a truth that is stronger than any argument. You would see what I see. You would reach the highest level of purity, higher than your husband could ever reach.”
“But he tries so hard.”
Shem Tov shrugged. “Some are born short and some tall. As much as they try, a short man can never reach height. He will die short. Why should you let this hold you back?”
And then he did something thrilling. He reached out and touched her, holding both her hands in his, then bringing them to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, his beard tickling her arm.
The effect was electric, all her senses shocked into paralysis, her mind numbed.
28
In preparation for the meeting with the children, Bina replayed the tapes of their previous encounters, trying to gain some insight. What she saw was not encouraging. They were uniformly and hopelessly hostile. Duvie, especially, had to be physically restrained from attacking the officers. They cried, they kicked, they threw loud tantrums. It was impossible to talk to them. And yet … She thought of the interview with Eli. What a charming little boy: smart, articulate, polite, and basically scared
out of his wits. Children like this, she thought, had been raised by good parents. Parents who cared.
Then what had happened to them to produce this kind of bedlam? Whatever it was, she sensed, it had taken place over a short time and hopefully had not obliterated their core, producing instead a thick, hard carapace under which was still hidden their true personalities. If she could only find a way beneath, Bina felt sure, she would find a bright, soft center that was still intact.
What was the way to peel back their armor?
A sudden light came into her mind. Armor. Unwieldy, iron clothing worn to protect a soldier from harm. And when did a soldier take off his armor? Only when he was sure that the war was over.
But Shem Tov was still out there.
She called up Morris. “I have an idea.”
“I’m ready to listen,” he said, deeply frustrated, angry, and a bit hopeless. The clock was ticking away and no extradition papers had yet been filed. They needed a breakthrough, and they needed it now. He listened to what she had to say with interest. “We need to discuss this with Johnny.” With Morris’s encouragement, Bina outlined her plan to the child psychologist.
“Brilliant.” He nodded.
Once more they gathered the children together, but this time without Duvie.
“We want our mommy,” Shoshana, the seven-year-old, cried.
“I know, I know, sweetheart,” Bina said gently, lifting her up in her arms. To her surprise, the child cuddled against her. She felt her heart melt.
“Shoshana, Gabriel, Yossi, Amalya, we know you all miss your mom—”
“And our dad!” Gabriel cried out.
“Yes, of course, your dad, too. And they miss you. We want to bring your parents to you as soon as we can.”
“You locked up our mom and won’t let her see us!” Yossi, the twelve-year-old, accused. He looked miserable and on the verge of tears.
“Yes, we will. But we need your help,” Johnny said gently.
