Part III
Synopsis: Orly has come to visit her friend from Haifa,
Deganit, and stays overnight at the seminary, vacillating
over making the `leap of faith' commitment. After
candlelighting at the apartment, they go for a walk.
And Orly talked.
"Rabbi Levine told me today," she began in a quiet voice,
"that I needn't make a comprehensive decision upon
everything. At this point, I must shy away from a total
change. But that sounds strange to me, since if I believe
this to be the true path, I should really take it all upon
myself right away. But he, himself, said I didn't have
to."
It sounded as if this made things that much easier for Orly.
"So what did he advise?" wondered Deganit.
"I've got to decide upon one thing. One new halacha
that I hadn't kept till now and that I must begin to embrace.
If I like, I can keep contact with him. How does that
sound?"
"Rabbi Levine knows what he's talking about. If you went to
speak to him, it means you intended to listen to what he
said, right?"
"True. So what should I decide upon? There are millions of
prohibitions!"
"I think you should choose one thing you think you can keep
without backtracking. I'd suggest it be something that
doesn't arouse any particular notice from those around you.
Start with something between you and yourself. Between you
and Hashem," Deganit suggested.
"I think I'll start off with something easy, yet not
demanding any drastic change in my lifestyle."
Deganit glanced sideways at her. "You'd better prepare
yourself. There'll be tests. You'll definitely experience
difficulties and unexpected obstacles; all kinds of
deterrents will suddenly crop up. It's always like that.
"I, for example, decided to begin by keeping Shabbos. When I
first came here, I wanted to do almost everything, without
any compromises and leniencies. I hardly traveled home for
Shabbos and thought I'd encounter no problems. But precisely
that particular upcoming weekend, my parents decided that I
had to come and visit since my relatives had just
arrived from abroad. This was all at the very beginning of
the way. I couldn't tell them what was happening to me and I
was afraid to tell them that it would be impossible. So I
went.
"It was simply horrible," Deganit recalled. "They traveled
back and forth in the very midst of Shabbos. They turned on
lights and cooked, listened to music and took snapshots. You
can already imagine it for yourself. I sat there like a
mourner among wedding guests. I didn't know what was
permissible and what not.
"`You probably don't feel well,' my aunt decided on Shabbos
morning when she saw me amidst the others, looking frozen and
introspected. The idea appealed to me and I retired to bed. I
cried so much then, you can't imagine. I hadn't imagined my
first Shabbos to be like that! I told everyone that I had no
appetite and ate only bread and cheese.
"Towards the end of that Shabbos, they all left the house and
went to some kind of entertainment. I remained alone,
because, after all, I `didn't feel well.' And then, I
suddenly felt as if Hashem, in all His glory, descended, as
it were, to join me in my violated Shabbos." Orly smiled.
If Deganit had uttered anything like that a month ago, she'd
have been certain she needed hospitalization. Now, it sounded
very logical.
"And that was that. I sang to myself some song I remembered
from a Shabbos I had spent by a family. I couldn't recall the
words exactly, but I was able to recapture the melody
accurately. I think that it was at that moment that I firmly
resolved to follow this path and that nothing would deter me.
I had this sudden inspiration, like a revelation." Deganit
teared at the memory of that Shabbos. "A profound sensation
that never returned in such intensity, even though I have
experienced other flashes of spiritual insight since then.
And it accompanies me to this very day. Sometimes, when I
feel myself too weak to stand up to all of them, I recall
that melody, the song I sang to myself at twilight, and I hum
it inside my heart.
"There's another thing I'd like to tell you tonight," Deganit
added, taking Orly's hand. They began walking back towards
the apartment. "At first, you'll see it in the flesh, you'll
feel as if Someone is holding your hand and helping you to
walk. As if you are being accompanied along your first steps.
Only later will you be enabled to walk by yourself..."
Orly was silent and they walked back thus, sunk in
thought.
They were about to go to sleep. The end-of-the-month darkness
spread over the sky and Orly turned to her hosts. "In the
seminar, they told me that there's a book called the
Kitzur Shulchan Oruch. Do you have one here? It's a
concentration of all the laws, isn't it?"
She sat and read through it until just before daybreak,
leafing back and forth among the chapters and paragraphs.
No, she felt no Divine inspiration, nor any sublime melody
singing itself in her heart. Only one big jumble, one large
question mark filling her heavily laden mind and heart.
*
Deganit awoke to the sound of early morning footsteps. "I've
got to go," Orly stated emphatically. She zipped up her huge
backpack and hoisted it onto her shoulder. "I promised my
mother I'd be back. We're having a family get-together
tonight."
Deganit wondered if this was an excuse, but didn't say
anything. Orly looked so determined that she felt that
anything she said would fall on deaf ears.
She left quietly, closing the door behind her. No emotional
good-byes, no thanks, no promise to return. Almost without a
word of parting. As if she was afraid that someone would run
after her and bring her back to the little apartment, to the
Jerusalem atmosphere, to the restrictive, demanding
framework, to the so-difficult path...
Deganit wanted to look at her, to study her from some hidden
window, to see if she was going fast or slow, or
hesitantly... Perhaps she might succeed in reading her
thoughts. But all the windows in the apartment faced the
mountains and Orly had gone out from the front, to the bus
that would take her to the Central Bus Station and to
Haifa.
And that's how Sharon found her, standing in the narrow
hallway, half crying.
"Do you think she'll be back?" Deganit was close to bursting
into tears. "She was cold like ice. She never behaved like
that to me. We've been friends ever since we were seven.
Suddenly, the Orly who used to tell me what was in her heart
has disappeared. She always used to share her thoughts with
me. I think I told her too much yesterday. She simply decided
to quit this whole business and scram. I couldn't say
anything to her this morning. You should have seen her
packing up her stuff, as if she were angry at me, as if she
wanted to yell at me, but was holding it in. No, I don't
think she'll be back."
"Who knows?" was all Sharon could say. "You can never tell."
She had also taken a liking to Orly and was sorry she had
left so suddenly, without even having said good-bye to
her.
*
Candles were lit two more times in the small apartment.
Deganit prepared latkes again the last evening and they sat
around, eating them.
"You've improved," Ofra remarked. "Any left?" There was a
knock at the door. Sharon got up to answer.
Orly didn't wait for an invitation. She simply walked into
the kitchen, without apologizing, as if she had just left it.
She put down her huge backpack and plunked herself down on a
chair near the small refrigerator, still wearing her khaki
coat. Deganit stood transfixed, wanting to hug her tightly,
to ask what had happened and how come she had decided to
suddenly return. But Orly was behaving as if she had just
left momentarily and was coming in from another room.
"The smell is just the same as when I left..." she chuckled.
"You won't believe what I am about to tell you, but it's all
true." Her voice was quiet but emotional. "Do you remember
that I asked for a Kitzur Shulchan Oruch?" They
nodded.
"I searched all night. I was looking for something I'd be
able to handle and that would be unnoticeable, that I could
keep without rousing any attention, yet would demand a
definite effort, a committment on my part. I don't know why I
settled on what I did. It wasn't especially spiritual or
connected to anything in particular. But when I was already
exhausted, I said to myself: `THIS is what I'll take upon
myself.'"
"Nu, so what did you decide upon?" Ofra was bursting with
curiosity.
"I decided to wait between eating meat and milk. My mother
doesn't really cook meat and milk together, and there is a
minimal awareness of kashrus at home. And I didn't even
decide to eat only kosher," Orly said apologetically. "Only
not to drink coffee at the end of a meat meal and to wait six
hours. I generally eat supper late so that this did seem at
all problematic. It may seem strange to eat a non-kosher meal
and then to wait six hours before eating dairy, but I knew I
was only committing myself to one practice.
"I didn't tell anyone about it. My parents are totally
unaware that I am undergoing a change, and I thought that it
would pass unnoticed. One time I almost forgot and had to
secretly dispose of a plate of ice cream I took in the
afternoon to avoid questions.
"So we had our family get-together." Deganit sighed with
relief. So Orly had had a legitimate reason for leaving,
after all.
"Our family is very close-knit. All the cousins and uncles on
my mother's side get together each Chanuka. I was very tired
and mixed up, as you must have seen, Deganit. I really had no
desire to go but I knew that for my mother it was an
unbreakable custom. I had no legitimate reason for not
coming.
"It was nice to meet everyone. My aunt prepared a lavish
spread and the atmosphere was festive. I remembered my
decision and I knew that this time, I might be in for
trouble. My family loves dairy dishes of all kinds and I had
eaten a meat meal for lunch.
"We shmoozed around and I had to fill my plate with something
so as not to appear different. I sneaked into the kitchen and
checked the boxes that had come from the bakery. I filled up
my plate with several sufganiyot from a box which was
stamped with the word `Parve.'
"I was relaxing on the couch, conversing with an aunt, plate
in hand. Suddenly -- would you believe it --" Orly had gotten
to the dramatic part of the story. "A son of my aunt's friend
was staying by her, a ten-year-old. He was playing around
with all the kids in a bedroom when suddenly, there was
shouting. The children ran in, hysterical. The boy had
suddenly fainted for a few minutes, and when he woke up, his
body was full of blotches and he was having trouble
breathing.
"Call my mother," he managed to gasp. "Tell her to bring me
my injection." She wasn't home and they had to rush him to
the nearby hospital emergency ward, in danger of
asphixiation.
"It turned out that he was suffering from anaphylactic shock
due to a severe allergy to milk. He always carried an
injection with him since an attack was a matter of life-and-
death. He, himself, knew enough to be careful not to eat
anything containing a milk derivative and before all the
guests had arrived, had gone into the kitchen and taken a
doughnut from a box marked `Parve.'
"Just look at that! There must have been a mistake in the
packaging or someone had mixed up the sufganiyot or
something. Perhaps the filling was a dairy caramel. Who
knows? After all, they weren't bought in a place with any
supervision. And at that very moment, I had been about to
put one of those doughnuts into my mouth!
"That boy didn't even belong to our Chanuka party. His mother
had to go away and he had joined us. So there I was, not
really keeping any mitzvot yet, transgressing who
knows how many of them throughout the day. And precisely the
one thing I had decided upon -- davka that one, should
be in the spotlight. It was as if Heaven had orchestrated it
to protect and warn me. As if Hashem had said: If you want
to, I'll help you!'
"I didn't dare taste a thing after that. The place was in
turmoil, in any case. The boy was released a few hours later,
and no one checked my plate to see what I had eaten or not
eaten."
Orly finished her story. "So that's it. I came to tell
you."
They could hardly absorb this amazing episode.
"There's an extra bed here," Ofra said naturally, offhand.
Orly removed her coat and hung it up on the rack behind the
door.
"It's just like you said, Deganit. In the beginning, it's as
if they're walking beside you. As if Someone is holding your
hand and helping you to walk..."
