[STORY] Damsel in Distress (Update #16 - 26 Iyar p. 23)

amother

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Thu, Oct 14 2021, 3:06 pm

A second wife

There's a certain amount of Agmas Nefesh that by definition goes along with Shidduchim. For most of us, it's spread out among a number of candidates. For the SII subjects, for the most part it is all with one.

Chava is completely unprepared for the next bombshell.

The date seems to be going well, debating the relative merits of Eli's hometown of Chicago and Chava's beloved Brooklyn. At some point in the discussion, she begins to realize that there is a significant miscommunication going on.

Instead of speaking about the job prospects in either place, or even the quality of education, Eli is talking about the multitude of schools in Brooklyn of varying hashkafos. "There are way more opportunities when there are Sefardic schools, Chassidishe schools, Bais Yaakovs..."

After pretending she has some idea of what he is talking about for a few minutes, she finally decides to ask.

"Didn't I tell you? I want to make tutoring a full-time parnasa. I love the satisfaction of graduating kids and seeing them make it together with their classmates."

"But what about being a paramedic?"

"My dream is to join Hatzolah."

----

Hatzalah.

To many the term evokes protection, competence, speed.

For Chava, there is a lot more.

She manages to maintain the smile on her face as she says, "That's really nice. My best friend's father is in Hatzolah."

She isn't sure exactly what she says during the rest of the date, and is relieved when the Rebbetzin announces that time is up.

----

As soon as she is alone again, Chava lets the feelings wash over her.

Yes, there was definitely pride in Shaindy's voice when she spoke about her father in Hatzalah. But there was pain there too. Chava had seen it.

A Hatzolah wife? Her?

No sacred time, ever? No uninterrupted meals, no peaceful family trips, no reliable help at bedtime? A husband that runs out in the middle of the chaos to glory and salvation, while she remains at home to pick up the pieces?

It's the only socially sanctioned polygamy, she thinks wryly. The only question is if Hatzolah is the first or second wife.

----

The first time Chava remembers seeing the underside of Hatzolah was a Chol Hamoed Sukkos. She must have been six or seven years old, carrying her little pink backpack full of snacks and so happy to be at the park with her whole family.

"Tatty, push me high on the swing!" she shouted, and her father, looking unusually carefree, pushed her until she thought she was touching the clouds.

A little later, she saw Shaindy. Shaindy was standing with her mother and younger brothers, looking a little forlorn.

"Hi Shaindy!" she called. "Where's your Tatty? Maybe our Tatties can push us on the swing together and we'll both be flying!"

"Oh, my Tatty had to go on a Hatzolah call. He said he'll try to meet us here later."

----

That memory brought others along.

The time Chava had a Shabbos sleepover at Shaindy's house, and Shaindy's Tatty not coming back from shul. After waiting and waiting, Shaindy's mother had made Kiddush herself. Chava remembers the awkwardness of the moment, the unbalanced look of the Shabbos table.

Shaindy looking frustrated before the big Navi test. "My father kept saying he would study with me, but when he finally sat down with me he got a call and had to run out."

And eighth grade graduation, all of them sitting on stage, so proud in their matching light blue gowns, gazing out at the sea of mothers and fathers and grandparents on both sides of the Mechitzah. Then one father suddenly leaping to his feet and racing out of the auditorium, and Shaindy's face tensing.

Can I do that to myself? To my kids?

"That's my dream," Eli had said.

You can't take away someone's dream. But can you live it with them?

This is what Kaf Hakela must feel like, Chava thought to herself sardonically. Watching a situation change dramatically again from ideal to impossible.

It's not a bad thing, it's very admirable, but can I really be a second wife?

----

Night did not bring clarity, and Chava spent the beginning of the day's lectures sunk in her own morose ruminations.

A jarring noise pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see where the noise was coming from.

A terrible scream erupted as seventeen girls and the Rebbetzin all shouted at once, and then one of the large rectangular light fixtures fell, as if in slow motion, directly onto three of the chairs with a devastating crash.

Some of the girls ran away, and others ran towards the light, still attached by a wire to the ceiling, and flashing ominously. "Don't touch it with your hands, it could be dangerous!" someone yelled.

Chava pulled off her rubber-soled shoes and used them to help lift the heavy metal fixture off of the pinned girls.

One of the girls was clutching her arm and crying softly, another had ducked when the light started to fall and seemed to be okay, and the third was unconscious.

The screaming had apparently been loud enough to reach the other conference room. The door burst open, and Eli and Berke ran in, carrying the medical bag. Rabbi Cohen was hot on their heels, and a number of bochurim stood by the door waiting to hear if their help was needed.

Chava stood on the sidelines. She knew she should respect their privacy and look away, but was unable to tear her eyes from the scene.

She watched as the two triaged the patients and made sure they were stable before tending to the broken arm.

Someone had called an ambulance, and the two injured girls were taken to the hospital, accompanied by Rebbetzin Cohen.

The guards dismissed the girls back to their rooms until the Rebbetzin would return.

----

Only back in her apartment, which feels oddly empty, does Chava notice that her own hand is bleeding. She must have somehow cut it on the metal light fixture.

As she bandages it clumsily, she lets herself process the frightening events.

She realizes that she was one of those who ran towards the accident, hoping to help. She had not run away or assumed it would be taken care of by others. Part of her own makeup was that sense of responsibility.

Glancing at her crudely bandaged hand, Chava is glad that she was not called for actual medical help, but has to admit that if she had the skill, she would have used it.

Sinking into a chair, Chava rests her chin on her hand and follows the thought through.

I value caring for others, I want to help others. So what am I afraid of with Hatzolah? Is it really like being a second wife?

No, she answers herself. A marriage is never just between a husband and wife. There is a third Partner too, and both husband and wife are equally dedicated to Him.

Running out at a moment's notice to save the life of a fellow Jew? That's the third Partner's desire. So Hatzolah is not its own thing at all, just an outgrowth of loving Hashem.

An image comes to mind of the kohen plodding earnestly through the desert, leading an unwilling goat with a red string wound around its horns. Pushing it down a rocky cliff before returning to Yerushalayim with no fanfare.

Back in the Beis Hamikdash, korbanos would be brought, Jews bowing in ecstasy at the Name of Hashem, exultation at the signs of Hashem's forgiveness… while that lone Kohen walked quietly home, impure.

It's the same Avodah, she thinks. Just two parts. The goat brought with purity on the Mizbeiach, and the one marched through the desert. The man who grabs his medical bag and runs at the alarm, and the mother who makes Kiddush alone at home.

It's not a Hatzolah wife, she thinks, but a Hatzolah family.

And every call, though most stay home, they go on together.

To be continued....

ETA: Continued here...