Naomi, The Rabbi's Wife

by Miriam Finesilver

  She was almost out the door, when she turned around and told Melinda, “What do I do now? My husband is a rabbi.”

  CHAPTER 20

  A Time to Speak

  With all the Rosh Hashanahs and Yom Kippurs, Naomi never knew if she had been forgiven. Weeping the tears of one now grateful to be forgiven and set free, Naomi sat in her car breathing in this precious moment—the moment of her release.

  She needed somewhere to sit and reflect. The beach? The dark clouds answered no. She was aware of a cozy-looking coffee shop on the way toward home—yeah, that would work.

  Soon she was drinking an iced coffee while gazing out the window onto the busy street and reflecting on what had taken place in the last hour—the hour she knew changed everything.

  When learning Naomi’s husband was a rabbi, Melinda was not too proud to say, “Uh, please, sit down. I need a minute to think this through.” Twirling her long red hair around her finger, Melinda had confessed, “I’ve never dealt with a situation like this before.”

  Naomi then watched as Melinda bit her lip and arched her eyebrow, so similar to how Daniel expressed himself when in a quandary. Melinda had reached for Naomi’s hands and said, “Amy, we better pray. I need God’s wisdom.”

  This was when Naomi swallowed hard and made her confession. “My name’s not Amy. It’s Naomi—Naomi Cantor.”

  “You mean your husband is Rabbi Cantor?”

  Bolting upright, Naomi had withdrawn her hands and exclaimed, “You sound like you know my husband.”

  “Well, I don’t know him personally, but I have heard about him. There’s a woman who volunteers here at the Center. Jeanine. She not only talks about Rabbi Cantor but she prays for him.”

  “She prays for my husband?”

  “It has to do with her daughter Sandy—Sandy married a Jewish man and converted, so she now goes to your husband’s congregation.”

  “Are you talking about Sandy Marcus?”

  Melinda had rubbed her chin. “Yes, I think that’s her married name—Marcus. Anyway, Jeanine, just last week was telling us about how this new rabbi at her daughter’s shul—is that what you call it? Did I say it right?”

  Naomi nodded, her mouth agape.

  “She told us how your husband basically took a dying shul and now it’s actually been growing, and he’s even been having an impact on the students at the University. And, you know, Jeanine has a grandson—”

  “Jake.”

  Snapping her fingers, Melinda had said, “Yes, now I remember she said the name Jake.”

  One of the most amazing events then took place: Melinda prayed, asking God to give them wisdom on how Naomi was to handle the situation with her new faith and with her husband. A moment or two after the words were out of her mouth, Melinda had simply said, “Thank You, Lord.”

  Naomi then felt her hand being squeezed as Melinda said, “You can open your eyes now.”

  “You got an answer already?”

  “I believe so.” She then had teasingly wagged her finger at Naomi. “Now, don’t go thinking it always happens like this. Wow, I wish it did, but I guess God knew we needed immediate help. He reminded me of a place in Ecclesiastes that says, ‘There’s a time to be silent and a time to speak.’ Naomi . . . I’m going to have to get used to not calling you Amy anymore . . . Naomi, you need to trust Jesus—that His Spirit will let you know when it is time to speak.”

  “So, for now, I can keep it a secret from my husband?”

  “For now, just continue with your homework and. . . and . . . pray.”

  Upon leaving, Melinda had assured her, “Don’t worry, everything will stay confidential.”

  How weird is it going to be when I see Sandy? What am I—? The slurping sound coming from her straw interrupted the thought. Seemed there was no more iced coffee left. Naomi pulled out money from her wallet and slid out of the booth.

  She turned toward the cash register when a dazzling display of colors caught her eye. It’s not like she hadn’t passed this tropical nursery each time she drove to the Women’s Center. Whether it was the large Spanish-designed ceramic pots, colorful enough to compete with her new bathroom, or the exotic trees and plants, something caught her eye at this time. Since today was a day of new beginnings, she would explore the Sunkissed Nursery.

  She browsed the rows and rows of trees, shrubs, and flowering plants. After receiving advice from another customer, Naomi made her decision. She would keep it simple. The pots of bright yellow bush daisies, approximately two feet in height, brought a smile to her face; their cheeriness was a perfect reflection of what was effervescing inside of her. Along with the daisies, she would also purchase several pots of the buttercup groundcover. Their linen-white petals with a splash of yellow at the center should bring them all together in a wonderful cascade of color.

  “This is all new to me. What kind of tools do I need?” she asked the sales clerk.

  An hour later, Naomi was on her knees, rejoicing as her hands dug deep into the earth. She was also digging deep, unearthing the wisdom of Melinda’s counsel.

  There she was kneeling on the ground relishing her newly planted daisies when the realization struck her. Melinda’s counsel reflected the journey of the Israelites when they wandered in the wilderness. They did not move until God lifted the cloud over the tabernacle. Until He did, they stayed put. In her case, her mouth would stay put.

  She collected the debris from her first venture into gardening and stepped back to assess the results. She was pleased. Very pleased. Daniel’s going to love it, too. Uh, oh—Daniel. Okay, one way to relax was a hot shower, and, of course, she needed one right now. Dirt under her fingernails, on her knees, probably in her hair . . .

  Waiting for the shower water to warm up, she tuned the radio to a classical music station. The strains of Beethoven’s lively seventh symphony were heard and suddenly Naomi was gliding across the floor in an impromptu ballet.

  That evening, Daniel pulled into their driveway and saw their beautiful new garden. He came in through the garage, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The smell of freshly baked bread greeted him, as well as a radiant wife. It was like a dark cloud had somehow been lifted from her, a weight removed from her shoulders.

  Both eyebrows arched, he extended the bouquet of red roses to her. “Seems I didn’t have to bring these home, huh? You had a gardener come?”

  She eagerly took the flowers, giggled, and explained, “I’m the gardener. I did it, Daniel.”

  He watched her joyfully placing the roses in a crystal vase. What’s different about her? Whatever she took, I want it, too.

  Daniel’s first words when she arrived at the shul the following Friday were, “It’s all set. We will be celebrating our second year anniversary in Israel.”

  “You’re kidding? We have enough people signed up?”

  “Three more people gave their deposits today. Not only is Mark now going, but his parents will be coming with him.”

  The Temple was filling up and people were clamoring for his attention, and several of the women wanted hers.

  Naomi made her way through the preparations for the service. These chores were no longer as tedious as before. She was now appreciating the uniqueness of each individual, including even those who in the past had been unkind to her. And when she saw her husband, love for him engulfed her. And she understood why: she now knew the Creator and His love was coursing through her.

  Nonetheless, like a damaged nerve threatening to fire off painful charges, a thought continued to hang around the periphery of her consciousness. This new faith might cost her the approval of every person her eyes rested upon, and especially that of Daniel’s.

  Her husband’s message this Shabbat was on Exodus 40. “As we have read regarding the travels of the Israelites, they waited for a sign from God. If the cloud did not lift from above the tabernacle, then they did not lift their feet. This speaks to me about a profound trust. And that’s why we should want to obey our God. What is temptatio
n? I define it as not trusting God and saying ‘forget it, that cloud hasn’t moved in days, I’m getting tired of waiting. I’m going to go out on my own.’ Or maybe even thinking ‘God forgot about me. Here I am waiting and hoping, but He doesn’t care about me.’”

  Daniel walked down from the bimah, made eye contact with the substantial crowd gathered, and smiled. “Let’s talk about this. Do you have trouble trusting God?”

  When Daniel had begun this format, Naomi had to act as a shill, encouraging others to participate in this open dialog. Now, however, this was no longer necessary as a healthy exchange of ideas and even candid-type confessions were an intrinsic aspect of a Shabbat service at Temple Beth Shalom.

  And on this particular Friday, God, who had answered Melinda’s prayer so swiftly, was now speaking directly to Naomi’s heart. Only a short time ago, Naomi had been prompted to consider the very same passage Daniel was now expounding upon. How could she not trust Him? He will reveal the time for her to no longer keep silent.

  But when will I be able to say the name Jesus? All my life I’ve been told we were never to use His name.

  Her mind must have wandered because suddenly it was time for Daniel to be stepping back up to the bimah and give his closing remarks. “I have an exciting announcement for everyone going on the trip to Israel. We will be leaving in two months. Now if anyone was still hoping to go but didn’t sign up, what can I tell you? Think of it like Noah’s ark . . . you’re too late. Sorry, I don’t mean to be facetious, but it’s the truth.” He then looked into the crowd, and found his wife. “Naomi, would you tell everyone what’s extra special to us about being in Israel on June fifth?”

  “It’s our anniversary,” she shouted out to the crowd.

  After all the mazel tov’s faded out, Daniel concluded with, “Shabbat Shalom.”

  Daniel had been so impressed with the extra sparkle the bright yellow and white flowers added to their home, that one Sunday Daniel woke Naomi up with a suggestion. “Let’s go get some trees.”

  When asked where she had purchased the flowers, Naomi was tempted to fib, after all she had done it all her life. Yet something had restrained her. When she told him the name and address of the nursery, he asked the inevitable. “What were you doing in that part of town?”

  This truth-telling had its challenges. Answering with “I don’t know,” “I got lost,” or other cover-ups which popped into her head instantaneously, would be downright lying.

  And her hesitation in answering was not missed by Daniel. “Naomi, what’s going on here?” With still no response, he asked, “Did you get lost again?”

  Then the phone rang. Whew! A couple wanted to talk to Daniel about their son’s upcoming bar mitzvah. Daniel answered their questions, hung up the phone, and walked back to Naomi.

  “My-omi, let’s go to Marti’s.”

  The issue of the nursery was dropped, but how long could she live covering up her tracks? In both her workbook and in what she had been reading in the Bible, there were promises which she was clinging to: God would never leave her; He would provide all she needed; He would give her what to say.

  A block from Marti’s, Daniel said, “I was thinking, rather than going out and buying stuff ourselves and then trying to figure out how to plant it . . . I mean this is all new to us . . . we’ll find a landscaper. Would you like that?”

  She would love it. And, most importantly, it was as if the question of why she had been in a particular area of town had disappeared into the vapor.

  Over breakfast they made a final shopping list for Tuesday evening with the students. Barbecuing once a month was now a favorite attraction for all, and it would be coming up next week. Between questions regarding what kind of steak, what kind of barbecue sauce, whether baked potatoes, corn on the cob, or potato salad, Daniel kept interrupting with the same question, “What’s different about you?”

  At one point, after commenting, “It’s like you have this special glow,” he stopped, his eyes got huge, and he started to ask, “Are you—?”

  Naomi shook her head and inaudibly mouthed “no.”

  At her next meeting with Melinda, Naomi said, “It’s not that I don’t still want to have a baby, but I’m not feeling like I have to. I don’t have to prove something anymore. Melinda, do you have any children? I’ve never asked you.”

  “None of my own. I’ve been married now for three years. My husband has a daughter from a previous marriage. She’s adorable. But, no, I haven’t had any of my own. It’s not too late though. I’m only thirty-one. You never know, maybe one day we’ll be walking around the mall together pushing our baby strollers.”

  The hour’s session now finished, Naomi admitted, “You know when I first saw all those questions in the workbook about how I felt when I walked into the clinic. . . stuff like that . . . I thought, that’s it, I’m done with this study. Why should I have to relive all that again?”

  “Do you still feel that way?”

  Naomi shook her head vigorously. “Even though it was hard, it showed me how much I didn’t want to be in that clinic. I only did it because Gary pretty much told me I had to.” Burning tears now flowed. “I wanted to be loved so much and somehow I was stupid enough . . . or desperate enough . . . or both, to think if I did this, then Gary would love me.”

  Naomi received a box of Kleenex from Melinda. “But now, it’s like that beautiful thing you told me when I first came here, about how God would give me beauty for ashes . . . that’s exactly what He did. Because of the ashes, being so depressed because of my abortion, first God used that to bring Daniel into my life. And, Melinda, he is the most wonderful man . . . Thank God I didn’t end up with Gary instead . . . and then over and above all that, not only do I have a beautiful husband, but now I have this relationship with God Himself.”

  Walking out of the counseling room together, Naomi stopped at the doorway. “Do you have another second?”

  “Of course.”

  They walked back into the room and each took their usual positions, the couch for Naomi and the chair for Melinda.

  Naomi laughed. “I always do this to you, don’t I? There’s always one more question. Well, here it is—I’m having a hard time saying the name of Jesus. When I’m with you I’ll say God or maybe Him, something like that. And even when I’m praying, I’m having such a hard time saying that Name. Please, don’t think . . .”

  Melinda placed her hands on Naomi’s. “Naomi, I’m not going to judge you.”

  “This Tuesday we had a group of students at our house for a barbecue, and I noticed how many times I heard the name of Jesus said, but it was never said in a nice way. It was like a swear word.” Naomi blushed. “And in the past that’s the only way I would say His name. But this Tuesday, every time I heard His name used like that, I found myself kinda cringing.”

  “I don’t know if this will help, Naomi, but I’ve heard people say how His Hebrew name is Y’shua.”

  “Really? Wow, that means salvation.”

  “I once heard a Jewish woman speaking at an Easter brunch. She explained how she personally used the name Y’shua. It’s too bad you can’t go to church . . . I know you can’t, and I’m not trying to put any pressure on you, but it would be so nice if you could be around other believers.”

  Naomi’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “I wish I could.”

  As Passover approached, Naomi was finding more and more references in her New Testament regarding this Feast. She was coming to love the name Y’shua, and when she read that He was referred to as the Passover Lamb, she yearned to go running to Daniel and proclaim this truth to him. An assurance was growing in her that one day he, too, would rejoice at this good news. And each and every day she prayed, “Lord, tell me when is the time . . . the time to speak.”

  And it seemed each and every day, Daniel was commenting on how radiant his wife looked. “Are you sure you’re not . . .?”

  When Naomi’s parents flew down to spend Passover with them, one of the first
things out of Helen Goldblatt’s mouth was, “Oooh, sugar, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Naomi explained this was not the case and Helen apologized, but still insisted there was a definite “special glow” about her daughter. “What else can it be, sugar?”

  Daniel said, “Tell me about it. I keep asking her what her secret is.”

  Naomi detected a hint of suspicion. Lord, when do I speak?

  With much of the conversation around the Passover table centered on the upcoming trip to Israel, Naomi said to her parents, “I wish you could come with us. Maybe the next time we go with the shul, you’ll come.”

  Saul put his napkin down and cleared his throat. “Like we told you when you were in New York, Mother and I are thinking about retiring down here. Not in this ritzy area you two live in, but maybe in the Miami area. While we’re here we might look.”

  Later that evening, the men went to sit outside by the swimming pool at Saul’s request. “Never thought my daughter would have her own pool.”

  In the kitchen with Naomi, Helen squeezed soap into the sink and asked, “Sugar, which one do I use?” The woman had never seen a two-bowl kitchen sink before.

  “You can rinse the dishes in either of them and then we’ll put them in the dishwasher.”

  As Naomi was arranging the plates into the dishwasher, her mother bent down, grabbed Naomi’s hand, and told her, “You look so happy. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

  “Mom, let’s go into the dining room for a minute.” Naomi sat at the head of the table and indicated that her mother should sit right next to her. She even scooted up her chair so they were only a breath apart. “You remember how you taught me to say my prayers every night?”