Little tufts of hair touched the Lucite bassinettes. Some
newborns were with and some without wisps of hair on their
shiny scalps. The pink cherubic faces with tightly shut eyes
created a unique atmosphere. Each mother checked the card on
top of the trolley to ascertain if this was actually her
precious bundle. The tiny priceless things were all so
similar, so miniature, yet worlds apart. Their ways are bound
to part, each to their own rightful place in the hearth of
this own family.
Each and every child has his own destiny. Some are embraced
by a religious environment enabling them to walk effortlessly
down the paved path, whereas others must remove all the
obstacles on their road, in their attempt to find the truth.
The latter group has to work very hard, born with less
advantages yet capable of reaching greater heights.
Esther and Naava led their babies to their rooms for feeding.
Esther gently lifted her infant, hugging him while murmuring
a special prayer of thanks to Hashem for meriting another
gift. The baby seemed to feel a sense of security and so,
with his eyes closed, he smiled in deep content, satisfied,
his needs were being attended to. He asked for no more.
Esther could not take her eyes off her baby as she once again
examined him, reacquainting herself with this new addition to
the family. She leaned back on the armchair, closed her eyes
and dreamed of the child's future, hoping and praying that
the pristine soul would merit to fulfill his role in this
world.
Naava gingerly lifted her babe; she had loved him from the
start. His eyes were still closed. He was so very tired. No,
he did not have too many demands, yet, but he looked so small
and fragile. This was Naava's first child, as was obvious to
every onlooker. She scrutinized his delicate features, all
the while stroking his cheek in the attempt to waken him to
form a bond, a relationship with his new mother.
Naava was born in a communal settlement in the Galilee. She
was raised in a home where the national holidays were
celebrated as family gatherings. But aside from the typed
print on her ID card proclaiming her a Jew, she had no
affiliation with the customs and traditions of her religion.
Naava was always very honest and could not bear any
falsities; thus, time and time again, she would become
disgusted with the ways of those around her, but would soon
leave the thread that she had begun to spin.
The spinning process seemed much too complicated. Living in a
remote community where from daybreak there were endless
mundane tasks to attend to, leaving no room for lofty ideals,
she remained in her static state, all the while, thankful
that she was alive and well. And so, one day followed
another, blending into one muddle of yesteryear.
Naava followed the course of her peers, serving her duty in
the army and then studying biochemistry, her favorite
subject. She had great plans to work in a laboratory. Often,
in class, she would raise her finger in question, awed and
amazed at the wondrous complexity of every molecule. Shy by
nature, she began to feel uncomfortable when the snickering
behind her back got stronger and so she pushed her questions
aside, concealing them in the dark recesses of her mind,
forbidding them to resurface.
Here she was, sitting on an upholstered chair, holding her
firstborn. His eyes had opened; he seemed to look around in
question, seemingly in the attempt to form conclusions. His
clear blue eyes, so much like hers, were already searching
for the truth. Suddenly, Naava's eyes felt moist as salty
drops trickled down her cheeks, touching the tiny hand. She
placed her finger into his palm, which curled immediately
into a tightly clutched fist. He seemed so adamant, so
persistent. He had come into this world unclothed, bare, yet
receptive and willing to be dressed in any attire offered
him.
Naava felt so small and undeserving of this perfect creation
which clung helplessly to her for support and promise. She
again closed her eyes in despair. How she had longed for this
gift. Now she held him tightly against her cheek, depressed,
as she, too, had not found a suitable costume to envelop her
future act. Naava perceived that she had not fulfilled her
role as yet, and had remained unclad like her newborn
child.
Esther slowly approached the nursery, looking for the ideal
spot for her bassinette. Her baby looked so peaceful, fast
asleep. On second thought, she wheeled him to a quiet corner
and while covering his eyes, she recited, "Shema
Yisroel..." and then tucked the corners of the blanket
under his sleeping form. She turned to go when, suddenly, she
felt a pair of eyes observing her every move. There was no
need to look very far, as across the corridor sat an
obviously excited mother. Naava jumped up suddenly from a
trancelike state, rushed over to Esther and shook her arm
pleadingly,
"Please," she begged, "teach me. Tell me exactly what you
said and did with your child. It looked so beautiful."
Esther looked into Naava's eyes, blue muddled with green,
reflecting her state of quandary. The only response for such
a plea was action. She led the young mother to the corner and
gently placed Naava's trembling hand over her baby's eyes.
Together they recited, "Shema Yisroel, Hashem..."
"He hears all of us," she explained gently, "all the time,
wherever we are and whoever we are." Word by word, together,
they recited the prayer, Naava repeating with a perception of
holiness imbued in words recited by her forefathers in the
past.
For the duration of their stay, they maintained contact.
Naava was enthralled by the customs of a new way of life, as
this was her first meeting with one who practiced Judaism.
Upon parting, Esther handed her leather-bound maroon
siddur to Naava as a memento, in the hope that it
would come to good use in the future.
