In honor of my ninth birthday, my older brother bought me a present - the record of David Broza, the woman i am. I didn't really understand then what this singer and I had to do, but a gift is a gift and I listened to the record.
At first the stories captured me, each of David's songs tells something and I listened to him as if I were listening to the radio dramas that were common at that time. I was so captivated by the stories that I hoped that Sigliot's story would change every time David sang it, that the woman he was with would understand that it was he who was writing to her, that she was actually living with the knight, who was her dreams. The nine-year-old girl I was was, and remains to this day, with a romantic heart.
David Broza of the year 2023, in the heavy shadow of the war, leaves his house at dawn to disperse violets Towards November, to inspire hope under the sky and a promise of It will be good, although sometimes broken. He came to our kibbutz, for his fourth performance that day. This is how he goes from place to place with the same guitar, on which the marks of his many years of playing are evident. And when he holds her and surrenders, I too am swept away by a wandering storm and I can momentarily put aside the bereavement that surrounds me.
What David doesn't know is that the relationship of Dr. John Richard Bell - the hero of the book "Bath Number Four" - with his guitar, I based on what I absorbed in the many concerts where I sat mesmerized, watching David in Rosa Port Love on the Strings, He taps softly on the body of the one and he is one with her. True, the music in the book is by the Beatles, whose great music also accompanies me, but when I think of a guitar, I always think of the one that I have since the age of nine.
In this week's episode, Dr. Bell learns how sick the family Hila grew up with is. The priests are tormented by the issue of the morally correct act versus the rules of religion and society.
Happy reading and take care please,
Lily
Chapter 38
"I'm debating whether to ask you something."
"what?" she asked him apprehensively. If he hesitates it is related to what happened.
"Um, you're a pretty big family. Besides Mipi, you have other sisters and brothers." Hila immediately understood where the question was directed. To be honest, she was surprised he hadn't asked her long ago.
"And you want to know if my other brothers and sisters know."
"Don't know. They knew. Maybe one of the other brothers."
"Look, John. He and I were, how to say, inseparable. He, like I told you, even my first memory is connected to him. There was a… there was a special bond between us. Although in my wildest dreams I could not have imagined that he would take it To… wherever he took. But I didn't have that kind of connection with the other brothers. I love them, of course, but you know how it is. Actually you don't know, you don't have brothers."
"I understand what you're saying. Still, you have five sisters and three brothers besides him. That's a lot of people. Vipitha? You have a good relationship with her."
"I'll try to explain myself better." She took a deep breath and started from the beginning.
"That day, in a hotel in Tel Aviv, all I wanted was to go to bed and get up as if nothing had happened. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I foolishly believed that it was a one-time thing. Something terrible happened, and that's it." John looked at her with abysmal seriousness. Still, after the many months in his presence, she hadn't decided whether his eyes were greener or bluer. For a moment she lost her train of thought.
"My two older brothers and also my older sister are already married and don't live at home. Dosa, Yifit, also lives in a dormitory at the University of Jerusalem. My fourth brother enlisted in the army and rarely came. He, the second, was basically the only brother still living at home and was going to leave a few months later . He made good use of those months at home."
His warm hands. How she loved them when they wrapped hers. It almost made her description tolerable. almost. "I'm sorry, little darling, I wish I could take this pain away from you. You are so strong."
She let out a surprised and bitter laugh. "Yes, John, strong enough to swallow a box of pills and cut my own veins. A few more people as strong as me and the world would be lost."
"Hey, you're here. You live, you talk to me, you choose to live every day you open your eyes in the morning. It's a lot. And I know how hard it is to keep going and how easy it is to give up."
"You are a good man, John." He frowned and she was pretty sure he didn't notice his fingers absently caressing her scar. A movement that has become automatic since he discovered it.
"Go on. Please," he requested.
"Okay, John, I'll tell you." She didn't like to remember that day, but so be it, she had already told him the worst of all. So one more thing that will nail the coffin of the Saban family.
"The first one, my oldest brother, is very similar to my father. At least in appearance. And... and one day, long after mother lifted the blanket from us and returned it, he was with us. Maybe he came to fix something, I don't remember. But somehow my little sisters were at home The book and the other one, I don't know where it was, and mom went grocery shopping. And... and he was sitting there in the kitchen. I could have sworn it was dad sitting there, with the newspaper and the mat."
Hila closed her eyes. More than the act itself, it was the injuries that came from unexpected places that were unbearable. The realization that both her mother and older brother made her think she was, she was wrong. "Anyway, I felt like this was an opportunity. Maybe I could finally tell him and he'd, you know, he'd talk to the other one and tell him to stop or something. I didn't expect too much. My days began and ended with prayers that this torture would stop." She thought he might already regret asking. John looked tormented. And she loved him who was in her favor even before he heard everything.
"I cried. I told him. It was hard for me to say the words. I held his shirt and begged him to help me. I don't remember exactly my words, nor do I remember him answering me. The next thing I felt was my cheek burning from the slap he slapped me."
"Oh, for God's sake." color. Dear John. that with each passing day he realizes that he cannot fix her, and continues to insist. Her John, the Knight of the Round Table and all of England embraced her, as if undoing everything he had said, that they could not be together. He rocked her in his arms, kissed her forehead, whispered in her ear that he was sorry, as if he was responsible for her delusional family.
"color?" She had to ask after a while, but he didn't let her go.
"Just a little longer, little darling. I need to hold you just a little longer." And she was ready for him to hold her a lot. How it happened that she is not afraid of a man's touch, she did not know. Yes, she learned to know that what she experienced with her brother was the exception. There are people like Father Francis and Pastor Martin, who are good people. And there's John, the best of them all. If only she could convince him that they could be together. Was willing to give a lot to know how it feels when someone touches with love and not force.
Father Francis
"Bless me my father, for I have sinned."
Father Francis knew who was standing beyond the curtain of the confessional. "God bless you, my son."
"I let them sleep in the same room. I know they don't sleep together, but such a thing under God's roof? And worst of all, I can't really repent. These two shouldn't be together, I know. A Jewish woman and a Catholic Christian. And they sleep together, And he hugs her when she's crying, and they're not even married. Still, I ask the holy God what to do and I'm not sure if his answer is to let them go or if that's the answer I want to hear. And here I am in agony and yet I reach for you."
Priest Martin sighed from the other side of the confessional and Father Francis understood exactly what his agony was. How would he help him if he didn't know how to help himself. But did he really not know how to help himself? He prayed a lot and spent a lot of time near the statue of the Virgin during the long months that Hila lived in the adjacent monastery.
"Are you going to keep them from sleeping in the same room and keep them apart?"
"No, father. I cannot separate them and be responsible for the fate of the little one."
"So what exactly is your repentance? Why did you come to confession?"
"I am asking God to resolve the connection between these two souls. I am asking for guidance."
"God is merciful and great and forgiving. He is not only concerned with things that are easy for us to do or decide about. Life is complex and God puts us to the test. Pray my son, say 'Our Father in Heaven' and guidance will come."
"Thank you, father."
When he left the confessional, Reverend Martin was waiting for him. "What did you do when the two were together under the roof of the monastery?"
"What you're doing now. I let them. They left the door open and Doctor Bell promised me he wouldn't act on his love for her."
Pastor Martin laughed. "That's exactly what's happening with me. I understand we had the same conversation with him."
"I believe John will keep his word."
"I have no doubts either. I've known him since he was a child, before I came to Israel. Even as a child you could trust him. If he promised something, he always followed through. He didn't always do what was right," he laughed, "but he also never promised not to fool around ."
Father Francis smiled in reply.
"Speaking of which, Martin. I also have thoughts that I'd be happy to share with you and hear your opinion on the matter. And no, I don't want the confessional. I want to talk to a colleague and someone like you, who I value and whose opinion."
"You flatter me too much, Father Francis." They sat down on one of the benches in the church.
"For the past few days I have been asking myself thoughts that might have been considered heresy regarding what we just discussed." Pastor Martin looked at him questioningly. "Is it possible that such a great love between two souls, two children of God, good children of God, could not be realized?"
"What are you asking, Father Francis? If we can marry them? How do you think that?"
"I know, I know, but I look at them, how they lift each other's spirits and I have to ask myself."
"Jewish and Catholic, Father Francis. This is an absolute no. There is no priest who will allow you such a thing. No higher authority will rule in your favor, neither with us nor with the Jews. No rabbi will give his blessing to an assimilation marriage, as they call it."
"I know, I know," murmured Father Francis in disappointment.
"Unless," Reverend Martin straightened, "she will be baptized."
His spirit fell again when Father Francis shook his head in the negative, "She will not give up her Judaism."
"Then we'd better keep our thoughts out of the churches and synagogues. My nephew is leaving in two months for England and they'll get on with their lives."
"You're right," I had to agree with him. "I don't know what I was thinking to myself. It is absolutely impossible. Even if in England they could be together, in Israel it is impossible. Both communities will boycott them and their children."
"John came to Israel as God's messenger to heal the little girl. That's his job. We'd better not get confused." Father Francis nodded in agreement. It's good that Reverend Martin came to him this evening. He came for himself, but helped Francis more than he thought.