Naomi Levy - To Begin Again: The Journey Toward Comfort, Strength, and Faith in Difficult Times

Every one of us has suffered a hurt that has robbed us of something much larger than the actual hurt itself. Just as a solitary pebble can cause an entire pond to ripple, a single painful experience can have far-reaching effects on our lives.

Push! I cried. Push! Push! Push!

Michelle held her breath and her face turned deep red. The babys heartbeat was slowing. A nurse shoved me aside and fastened an oxygen mask around Michelles face. Push! I insisted.

Whos she? the nurse asked, looking in my direction. Shes our rabbi, Michelles husband Paul responded. The nurse thought he was kidding and laughed.

The doctor raced in and, without explaining why, ordered the nurses to quickly roll Michelles bed from the birthing room to the operating room. Paul and I threw on sterile blue gowns, masks, and caps. I kept cheering Push! over and over again. My heart was racing. Something in the doctors expression made me worry. Was the baby in danger? Was Michelle in danger? The fetal monitor beeped, the IV bag dripped, and the blood pressure cuff hissed, but to my absolute amazement, not a sound escaped from Michelles lips. During the breaks between contractions, I recited prayers for a safe delivery and the health of the baby. Paul held his wifes hand, his grip conveying a loving calm.

One more push, then a miracle: the babys head began to crown.

A few more minutes of excruciating pain, which Michelle endured in silence, and the baby pressed its way through the birth canal. Soon the raspy cry of a beautiful baby boy filled the air. A new life breath, a sweet fragile soul entered this universe.

As she held her child swaddled and safe, Michelle looked up at me. I almost lost my life, she whispered. I know, I responded. But neither one of us was thinking about the danger she had just come through. We were remembering another time.

I T WAS the day after Yom Kippur and I was emotionally and physically drained. It had been a grueling two months of preparation for the High Holy Days, but now they were over. I was relaxing in my study, still reeling from the previous evening. The service had been the most moving of my life. I had never felt such holiness in the sanctuary. The entire congregation had fused into a single voice of prayer. As I was reflecting on the experience, my intercom beeped. Theres someone here to see you, Rabbi, my assistant said.

I walked to the front door of the synagogue, still in a reverential daze, and there stood a woman with two black eyes hidden behind her dark sunglasses, a broken nose, bruises everywhere. I held Michelles arm and led her to my study. She could barely walk. I was mortified. I had seen her just the week before at Sabbath services. Now, as she sat in my study, I could hardly believe this was the same person. Not knowing how to begin, I waited for her to speak, but she refused to look my way. She stared at the floor, and when she finally raised her face, she looked out beyond me as if I werent there sitting before her.

She broke the silence with one word: Why?

I waited for more. And slowly she began to speak.

On the afternoon before Yom Kippur, Michelle had showered and dressed in her holiday clothes. She was on her way to a festive meal with her best friend. Afterward the two of them were going to come to synagogue to begin the daylong fast. She picked up her keys, locked the door to her apartment, and walked toward her car. Suddenly a man came up from behind and grabbed her. When she resisted, he punched her in the face, knocked her to the floor, and beat her. Then he picked Michelle up, opened the trunk of her car, threw her in, and slammed it shut. The engine started to roar, and soon the car was moving. It was pitch-black in that trunk and Michelle was terrified. Her entire body shook in fear. Where was he taking her? Was he planning to kill her? Would he dispose of her body in a place where she would never be found? All she could do in the blinding darkness was say to herself over and over again, I want to live! I want to live! The car stopped. The trunk opened, her eyes were assaulted by the stinging sunlight. He dragged her into the backseat. He raped her. And then he let her go.