Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife

by Miriam Finesilver

  Only once did Naomi awaken with the voice of the accuser. She effectively silenced him by breathing in the beauty of the room and the beauty of her husband’s face lit by the moonlight as he peacefully slept. He is my husband. We are married. It is okay.

  The next morning, Daniel took out his prayer book, leaned over onto the bed, and kissed his wife. “Good morning, honey. Time to begin our morning blessings.”

  With an effort, she was able to open one of her eyes and get out her all-important question. “Coffee?”

  Not a coffee drinker himself, he had forgotten Naomi basically needed to smell it before getting out of bed. “I’ll go down to the lobby and get you a cup, a strong cup. Be right back.”

  Thirty minutes later, she turned to him and announced, “I’m ready.”

  Eagerly he opened his book as he explained, “Modeh Ani—that’s the blessing we recite upon arising.” The curtains still danced in the ocean breeze. “Let’s go out to the balcony and begin.”

  Seated on the bamboo chairs, he continued his teaching. “The Modeh Ani is one of the first blessings a Jewish child is taught. It expresses gratitude to God for the gift of a new day of life.”

  “How can I not be grateful?”

  Not looking at the vista beyond their balcony, but looking at her, he said, “I know what you mean.” He cleared his throat and resumed the role of teacher. “So, when we arise each morning, we recite . . .” Daniel pointed to the open page. “Now, say it with me . . . Oh, how stupid of me. You don’t read Hebrew. I’ll teach you, but for now, we can do it in English.”

  He showed Naomi the translation into English next to the Hebrew. Daniel reached for his tallit and placed the prayer shawl over both their heads. She then followed him in thanking the Living and Eternal King for His great compassion and faithfulness.

  With their bodies leaning against one another, feeling one another’s breath, and intimately sharing the tallit, their thoughts moved away from the purely spiritual. Suddenly breathless, their lips parted, they turned to each other and acknowledged the change of mood.

  Daniel laughed and shook his finger at her. “You’re a bad influence on me, you know that?”

  She fled from the balcony and back into their room. Daniel ran after her, calling out, “Naomi, relax, you know I’m only joking.”

  Daniel’s words unearthed her fear: she was not good enough for him and would only interfere with God’s plans for his life. She had hoodwinked him—the deed was done and now she must justify her place by his side. She sat on the edge of the bed and promised, “Daniel, I want to give you beautiful babies one day.”

  He stood above her scratching his head. “That’s a sweet promise, honey, but . . .” He shrugged his shoulders, sat down beside her and whispered in her ear, “Let’s start now.”

  Her fears were dispelled and in its place came a buoyant feeling of acceptance.

  About one hour later, they decided to rent a car and drive into the Everglades. The concierge had told them about an airboat ride offered by one of the Indian Reservations in the area. They would get up close and personal with the alligators.

  They were given a bronze-colored Chevrolet Malibu and Naomi loved it. “Daniel,” she excitedly told him, “We will have to buy a car won’t we? I mean if you get the job down here.”

  “So you’re already thinking what kind of fancy car to buy, huh?”

  That evening he had a surprise waiting for Naomi. When getting her coffee, he had asked the front desk where they might go to hear Klezmer music. Not only was he told of a place near the hotel, but was given a coupon which would save them on the admission price. Naomi was thrilled.

  There first full day in Miami turned out to be a fun-filled adventure.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll try again to recite our blessing together,” Daniel assured her.

  Afraid of more night terrors, she asked, “Isn’t there something we could say together before going to sleep?”

  He reached for his Siddur which he had placed on the nightstand by the bed. “Let’s simply say the Shema together. It’s beautiful to say anytime. I’ll do it in English with you.”

  “One day, when you teach me Hebrew, will I be able to chant it like you do?”

  “We’ll see. Don’t rush things, honey. You seem to put a lot of pressure on yourself. Why do you do that?”

  Her eyes cast down, she told him, “I don’t want to be taking you away from your time alone with God. Maybe it’s like you simply need to get me started. Then I’ll do my own thing in the morning, and you’ll do yours.”

  “My-omi, stop worrying, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He opened to the appropriate page and they read, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord: and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.”

  Daniel asked, “Do you have bad dreams?”

  Why is he asking that? What if he asked the nature of her dreams? She couldn’t tell him. No, never. In answer to his question, she shook her head.

  “Can you believe we might be living here? Everything’s so beautiful. I can’t believe it. Look at that house over there.”

  “Honey, I’m driving. I can’t look.”

  “You can at least look at the ocean for a second. It’s over to your right?”

  “The people here don’t drive like they do in New Jersey. I have to concentrate.”

  She apologized and tried to stop saying, “Ooh, look,” every five seconds. But it was not easy. The palatial estates with their opulent landscaping took her breath away. Some of them even overlooked the ocean.

  For the last three days, each time she saw a home which reflected the area’s Spanish heritage, she spun her fantasies. Their home in Boca Raton would have a terra cotta roof, arched windows on all three floors, and a huge balcony coming out of their bedroom and facing out onto the ocean, where she would serve her husband breakfast. To complete her fantasy, she needed to see the interior of one of these homes.

  It has to have large heavy dark wood furniture, and the floors, I guess, would be Mexican tile. And maybe some kind of mosaic—the staircase will have mosaic tile on the front face of the steps. But what about the bathrooms? I can’t picture them.

  “Daniel, stop, there’s an open house sign. We could go in.”

  “Naomi, I’m driving. There’s cars behind me. I can’t just stop.” A few blocks later, he conceded, “If you really want, I can turn around and we can go see the place.”

  Soon they were walking around an estate that was on the market for over one million dollars. After the realtor had looked them up and down, she told them, “Go ahead, look around for yourselves. I have paperwork to do.”

  After surveying the first floor, they walked to the back which offered a view of the ocean. “Naomi, I think it’s time we talk about what to expect for a salary if—and I mean if—I get this position.”

  “Daniel, I know we can’t buy something like this. It’s just fun to look.” After a short pause, she asked, “Can we just look at the bathrooms?”

  A quick nod of his head was enough—she charged up the stairs. The tile work in the master bathroom was dazzling, but she couldn’t help but notice Daniel retreating inside himself. She walked over to where he sat, on the ledge of the gigantic bathtub. “What’s the matter? What’d I do?”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  Back in their rented Chevrolet, they agreed to park the car and walk alongside the beach. As he drove, Naomi chided herself for how insensitive she had been. Tomorrow was his interview with the selection committee of Temple Beth Shalom. She was so infatuated with Daniel that the thought of anyone rejecting him was unfathomable to her—but obviously not to him.

  Their shoes off and walking in the sand, she apologized. “I’ll live in a tent as long as it’s with you. As for the interview, I’m sure they’ll want you. Sylvia’s brother said they were already. . .”

  “My-omi, listen, it’s not whether I get
the position or not. It’s more about if I get the position, will I do well? Will I please God? And will I help people to not just say the Shema, but to mean it and live it?”

  He had already gone into the lobby and retrieved a cup of coffee. Now he could awaken her.

  “Oh, Daniel, thank you.”

  “Let’s read from the Siddur again this morning. Together.”

  “You sure you can trust me? I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  “I already did some time alone, honey. I especially needed to this morning. But I want you on the same page with me, literally I guess.”

  She was thrilled to feel his need for her. The only concern she had was having enough time to fix herself up before they left for his interview.

  He took her hand and led her out to the balcony. “No sharing of the tallit this time, okay?”

  Laughing, she told him, “Of course.”

  Studying his facial expression as he turned pages in his Siddur, she placed her hand on his. “Don’t be nervous. You told me yesterday all you wanted was . . .”

  “His Divine Providence. That’s why I thought we could start by reading from here.” He pointed to where he wanted her to read. “Please, would you read it for us?”

  “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” She looked up at him. “Would you chant this for us? In Hebrew?”

  Once finished, he told her, “Irwin had taught all of us in his havurah that after we recite our prayer thanking God for His blessings, we should ask ‘Who am I?’ and more importantly ask God, ‘Who are You?’” Naomi’s face beamed. “I knew you’d like that. We’ll reflect on that in the car. We need to get moving.”

  The drive was eye-popping scenic. The houses seemed to get more extravagant the further north they travelled. Once in the city limits of Boca, she was doing all she could to suppress her oohs and aaahs.

  Fifteen minutes before his scheduled appointment, they arrived at a white-washed limestone building, appearing twice the size of the shul in Brooklyn Heights. It exuded the tropical air one would expect, tall royal palm trees spaced with precision all along the front. Under the extremely high-arched entrance was latticework of more limestone with a shimmering Jewish star consisting of inlaid glass mosaic tiles.

  Daniel said, “Let’s drive around the neighborhood for a few minutes. I don’t want to be early.”

  She relished the idea—this opulent neighborhood might soon be theirs. Yet for his sake she suppressed her enthusiasm and drolly answered, “Oh, if you insist.”

  Her humor seemed to help bring him back to his usual casual and confident manner. The homes were quite lovely, a bit less expensive than what she had been ogling the last few days.

  “My-omi, this is great. They almost look affordable. And we’ll need to live in walking distance of the Temple—we’re not orthodox, but I still think . . .”

  She told him how the congregants in Ellenville would all park their cars at the bottom of the hill and pretend to have schlepped all the way from their homes for service. “I’m not making fun of them, Daniel . . . well, I guess I was. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t blame you. And I don’t want to invite that kind of hypocrisy here, or wherever we end up.” He reached across the car seat and took hold of her hand. “You’re going to help me with this. If ever you see me guilt-tripping people, or anything that’s not sincere, you’re going to tell me. Okay?”

  Daniel began pulling into the first parking space he saw, but Naomi alerted him. “Daniel, it says ‘reserved for rabbi.’ You’re not there yet, Rabbi Cantor.”

  He pulled their rented car into an appropriate guest parking space, and they followed the small sign which led them to the office. The receptionist, a chunky middle-aged woman, after inspecting both of them from every angle, directed them to go down the hall and look for the second door on the right. Naomi’s intuition told her the middle-aged woman liked what she saw in Daniel, way too much.

  The door to the conference room was open and immediately upon seeing the couple, a gentleman in his late 70s or possibly early 80s, walked up to them.

  “Thank you for coming, Rabbi Cantor.” Suddenly realizing he had neglected Naomi, he extended his hand to her. “Forgive me, Mrs. Cantor—thank you, as well.” With his hand he indicated for them to take a seat. “My name is Marvin Berman. I’m the Chair for our committee.”

  Daniel smiled at the four people gathered around the table and pulled out a chair for Naomi. “My wife and I appreciate your taking time to meet with us.”

  A frail woman sitting to the right of Marvin, in a loud voice told Daniel, “You’re going to have to talk up. Marvin’s hearing aid never works right.” She glared at Marvin. “We keep telling him—”

  A barrel-chested man stood up and demanded, “Doris, enough.” Doris fumed and sulked while he turned to Daniel and Naomi. He chuckled and said, “You two must be thinking, oy vey, we must’ve walked into the wrong place.” His chuckle now turned into a loud guffaw.

  Doris scolded back, “Jerry, sit down and shut up.”

  Daniel grabbed Naomi’s hand under the table and gave it a playful yet desperate squeeze. He then stood and addressed the Temple’s selection committee. “We met with your current rabbi, Rabbi Moskowitz, last week. He gave us a little background.” Looking at Marvin, he said, “Rabbi Moskowitz praised your faithful service to the shul.”

  Naomi tugged on Daniel’s arm and whispered, “I don’t think he can hear you.”

  Raising his voice, Daniel repeated. He then smiled toward Doris. “And Doris, the Rabbi spoke of your . . . well, let me see if I remember correctly . . . I believe it was your delicious honey cake?”

  Doris gushed, “Rabbi Cantor, I’ll have to make some for you and your lovely wife.” Like a bashful schoolgirl, she dropped her eyes and grinned. “It’s a recipe from my mother’s mother.”

  Jerry lowered himself back into his chair. “He’s hired. I like him already. So, let’s go get something to eat.”

  “Excuse me,” Marvin shouted while trying to lift himself up from his chair. Pressing down hard on the table, he came to a semi-standing position. “I’m still the Chairman of this Committee.”

  Jerry muttered an apology.

  Marvin shakily sank back down into his seat. “Rabbi Cantor, we have some questions to ask you and then we want you to feel free to ask us any questions you have.” He turned to Naomi. “Feel free, Mrs. Cantor, to ask us any questions you may have as well.”

  Jerry jumped right in. “I’ll ask the first question. Tell us a little about yourself.”

  Another gentleman, with red hair and in his 40s, had been silent until now. He confronted Jerry, “We’re not supposed to ask questions like that, too open-ended. How many times you’ve been told that?”

  Doris waved several sheets of paper at the men. “We were given these for a reason. All of you hush, and I’ll begin with the first question.” She held the paper in front of her, almost touching her nose. “What led you to choose the rabbinate as a career?” She shook her head in disgust at the men and asked, “Now, what was so hard about doing that?”

  Daniel’s mouth was open ready to answer Doris’ question when the red-headed gentleman broke in, turning to Daniel and Naomi. “Rabbi and Mrs. Cantor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jay, Jay Marcus. I’ll be surprised if you don’t want to turn tail and run, but just in case you don’t, I would be glad to hear your answer.”

  “Thank you, Jay. This is an important . . .” Daniel stopped and asked Marvin, “Please, let me know if I’m speaking loud enough for you.” Marvin nodded and smiled in gratitude, waving his hand in a motion to continue. “This is an important question, the most important one, I think.”

  Daniel recounted his parents’ history of surviving the Holocaust, and his ensuing passion to keep their Jewish heritage alive. “And we owe devotion to the One who sustained us as a people—do we not? The Germans tried to wipe us out, but now I worry that we will finish the job ourselves. If we don�
�t preserve the religion we were given on Mt. Sinai, then will we not fade into a mere mention in the history books? We have been given the yoke of the law as an honor and it is my hope to inspire others to love the Lord with all their heart.”

  Marvin glanced toward Doris, pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She, however, was not the only one at the table moved to tears by Daniel’s words. Only Jerry was dry-eyed.

  Jerry demanded, “Doris, what’s the next question on your sheet? Let’s get on with it.”

  The paper shook in Doris’ hands. “What have been some of your most positive experiences as a rabbi?”

  “Excuse me, Doris,” Marvin interjected. “Let’s amend this as our friend is still so young.” He turned to Daniel. “Please tell us what was the most positive experience you have had as a rabbinical student, or perhaps as an associate rabbi?”

  “During my time in seminary, being part of a havurah, I’d have to say was the most positive for me. We would meet in a man’s home and there would be praying together, reading from the Torah portion and then we would have free and open discussion. It was—”

  “You realize that’s not something Temple Beth Shalom would go for, don’t you?”

  “Jerry, he’s simply answering the question, all right?”

  “I’m stating the obvious, Jay?”

  Daniel cleared his throat which effectively stopped the bickering as the eyes were again turned toward him. “Even if it were not in the home, why couldn’t that kind of informal back and forth discussion still be welcomed? I believe it could.”

  Doris turned to Marvin and nudged his arm. “I like this young man. I’ll ask the next question.” Marvin gestured his approval with a simple nod. Holding the paper with less shaking now, she asked, “What, Rabbi, is your approach to working with interfaith couples?”

  “Excellent question. Again, my first thought, or I should say my first priority, is to preserve us as Jews. The more tolerant we become about intermarrying, the more we lose our distinction as a unique people. If a member of Temple Beth Shalom wanted to marry a Gentile, I would ask that the non-Jew consider conversion. This would add to our race, not diminish it. And I would want to be careful we were not so tolerant that we ended up encouraging conversion in the other direction, if you know what I mean. We do not want ever to be tolerant of a Jew converting to their religion.”