The week was coming to a close, the afternoon of Sabbath eve. A soft wind was blowing, caressing the leaves, as the sun bent toward the hilltops.
All of Creation seemed to stand still. The flocks of sheep had already been put in their pens. There were only the muted sounds of the household, as its members hurried to finish the preparations for the Sabbath, to be heard among the sounds of the universe.
“Holy Sabbath, oh Sabbath Queen,” Jesse, son of Obed, sang.
Chief justice of the Supreme Court, senior sage of Israel, he still sat in his study hall, a Torah scroll unfurled before him. He was preoccupied with the session just concluded, when he had sat with his colleagues, adjudicating the petition of an Ammonite convert to marry an Israelite woman.
“It is forbidden,” Jesse ruled, “as it is written in the Torah: ‘No Ammonite or Moabite may enter the assembly of the Lord.’”
The convert addressed the court in tears: “But I want to marry her! I love her, and she loves me. I joined the faith wholeheartedly. I believe in God and His Torah; I study the text and keep the laws. I want to be an inseparable part of the People of Israel,” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse said, “but it is written in our holy Torah that no legitimate daughter of Israel may marry you, even though you have joined the community of Israel. If you really believe in God, and I see that your words are sincere,” he added softly, “you should accept it and rejoice in it. As an Ammonite convert, you can earn a share in everlasting paradise by maintaining your distance from an Israelite woman. You need not marry a native-born legitimate daughter of Israel to be an inseparable part of the People of Israel. All you must do is fulfill the Lord’s will,” Jesse continued. “Find another convert from Ammon, or one from Moab, or even a daughter of Israel born on the wrong side of the blanket. Marry such a woman, and you will be walking in the way of God,” he declared softly.
“But I…” the Ammonite convert began to say.
“No buts,” Jesse interrupted, in a clear and firm voice. “If you want to fulfill God’s command, this is what He truly requires. It is no personal slight to you. Everyone must confront things they don’t like — but if it is God’s will, there is no other way,” Jesse concluded in an authoritative tone.
The man’s eyes filled with tears, and he wept softly.
“Listen, my friend,” Jesse said in a conciliatory voice. “I will consult some of my acquaintances, and I am certain we’ll find an appropriate match for you. This woman is not meant to be with you, but you will find a bride. When you marry, you will rejoice knowing you are fulfilling God’s will.”
“Father! Father!” came a young voice, choking with tears.
The cries brought Jesse back to the present. He looked up from the scroll to see Ozem, one of his younger sons, who rushed in, in an emotional tumult. Jesse spread out his arms and Ozem threw himself into his father’s safe embrace.
“What happened, my dear boy? Why are you crying? Did you hurt yourself? Did someone hit you?” Jesse asked his beloved son, stroking his head.
“Father, is it true?” Ozem asked his venerable father, his tone a plea for a negative response.
“Is what true, son? What are you talking about?” Jesse tried to engage his son. He inspected blue-eyed Ozem, the unruly jet-black hair sticking out from under his skullcap. Jesse noticed that Ozem’s freshly laundered Sabbath clothes had already been muddied.
“Father, isn’t it true that I’m like a foreigner?” asked Ozem, his soft voice breaking. “The other kids say I am, that I’m a Moabite. They say you’re a foreigner, our whole family is foreigners, we cannot marry proper Israelites,” he cried. “Father, I don’t want to be a Moabite,” he stammered, his weeping intensifying. “Father, why do they call me a Moabite? In school too, my classmates call me a Moabite. Father, it’s not nice to say that. Why do they keep calling me that?” Ozem burst into heartbreaking tears, the sobs of a child struggling with humiliation and disgrace.
Jesse hugged his son tightly, his mind racing: But in truth, are we really Moabites? My grandmother, Ruth, was a Moabitess who married Boaz. She bore him Obed, my father. It is written in the Torah: “No Ammonite or Moabite may enter the assembly of the Lord,” so am I not barred from the assembly of the Lord…?”
“Father, please, answer me, are we Moabites or not?” Ozem was eager to hear his father reject the premise. He was desperate to hear anything, but his father remained deep in thought.
After a few moments, moments that seemed like an eternity to his son, he replied: “No, my boy, no. We are not Moabites. We are not Moabites,” he repeated hesitantly, as if he were conscious of lying to himself.
He lapsed into thought again: I knew it would come out at some point. After all, the question arises, why aren’t we Moabites? I know the law from Moses at Sinai, that those who are forbidden entry to the assembly of the Lord by marriage are the men of Ammon and Moab, not the women. And my grandmother Ruth properly converted, so she was allowed to enter the assembly of the Lord, as we are...”
“Father, the children told me that Grandma Ruth was a Moabitess, and it is forbidden to marry Moabites, so we are Moabites and forbidden to enter the assembly of the Lord,” Ozem whispered in a broken voice, as if divulging a secret. “Is that true, Father?”
“No, my son, no,” Jesse said to his son, “We must consider the law. It states that the prohibition applies only to Moabite men, who may not marry the daughters of Israel. Moabitesses are allowed to marry Israelite men, so we are not Moabites.” Jesse went on to explain, “The Torah doesn’t simply bar Ammonites and Moabites, it also gives the reason: ‘For they did not meet you with food and water on your way out of Egypt.’ When the Israelites left Egypt, they passed by the borders of Ammon and Moab. The Israelites asked them for bread and water, but they refused. That is why the Torah says that such cruel and vicious people do not deserve to marry into the assembly of the Lord. But who is expected to go out and offer hospitality? The men, not the women, so it is only men who are forbidden to marry the native-born of Israel.” Jesse continued to hug his beloved son, a tear welling up in his eyes. “My righteous little man, you are an Israelite, not a Moabite.” Jesse kissed the head of his beloved son and said, “Well, well, we need to go and pray. After all, we are Israelites, and the Sabbath is approaching. Hurry, my righteous little man. Don’t tarry, for the Sabbath Queen waits for no one. We must hasten to afternoon prayers.”
Ozem lifted his head and looked lovingly at his father’s face. “Well, Father, I’ll run, but you’ll wait for me, right?”
“Of course,” Jesse said.
“Holy Sabbath, Sabbath, holy Sabbath, holy Sabbath, Sabbath, holy Sabbath.” Jesse’s house was filled with the sounds of the sacred melodies.
All the children sat around the table. Jesse, with his snowy beard and bleached clothing, looked like an angel at the head of the table, his sons singing with him. His wife, Nizebeth, served her husband and children the delicacies she’d prepared for the Sabbath. Her face beamed with joy, as she thought: I get to serve my husband and children food made by my hand.
Every Sabbath eve, she toiled in honor of the Sabbath. The serving girls were sent to their homes, and she was left alone. She would not let someone else cook for her loved ones for the Sabbath. Nizebeth would never surrender the privilege to serve her dear family their Sabbath meals.
As she sliced and seasoned and simmered, she constantly murmured: “In honor of the holy Sabbath.” Her heart bore a prayer. “Please God, let us merit to truly honor the Sabbath, to welcome the Sabbath with holiness and joy. May we have the privilege of keeping Your commandments sincerely and wholeheartedly. May our children be righteous and pious; may they carry out Your will in truth, joy, and love. May our children study the Torah and observe its commandments. May my dear husband and I be privileged to raise them in the spirit of Your Torah. And may the food I prepared be pleasing and bring honor to the holy Sabbath.” Her lips moved in prayer, and her hands did their work as if on their own. Her lips bore a soft melody: “To observe, to fulfill, to follow Your will…”
Nizebeth looked lovingly at her husband and her precious children: the boys — Eliab and Abinadab, Shammah, and Nethanel; Raddai, Ozem and Elihu; and the girls, Zeruiah and Abigail. A look of satisfaction settled on her face. Her husband, her seven sons, her two daughters — all sitting at the table, singing Sabbath tunes.
“Father, what are you thinking about? Did something happen?” Eliab asked softly.
Every Sabbath, Eliab knew, Father would sit at the head of the table, his face radiant. He’d sing Sabbath tunes with joy and holiness. However, today everything looked different. Father sang in a whisper, as if he weren’t there.
“Did something happen in court?” he probed.
“No, nothing special,” Father replied. “We discussed the matter of an Ammonite marrying an Israelite woman.”
“An Ammonite marrying an Israelite woman?” repeated Eliab. “They cannot marry the daughters of Israel,” he said in a firm voice.
“You’re right,” his father replied, his expression guarded. “Yes, that’s what we told him.”
Mother served the meat: “Eat, eat, before the meat gets cold,” she said, a smile on her face.
“Enough, Father,” she said. “You’re not at work now. Leave it alone. Eat, in honor of the holy Sabbath.”
“Yes, you’re right,” he replied. “In honor of the holy Sabbath,” he said, taking a bite.
The Sabbath meal was over. The children had gone to bed, and the house was shrouded in peace and quiet.
Jesse was studying Torah again, his voice nearly inaudible, but filling the house with holiness. His wife, Nizebeth, sat in the corner of the room looking at her husband, her eyes full of love and admiration.
She thought: How blessed am I, that my soulmate is a Torah scholar, a righteous man loved by all the people. He always speaks calmly and gently. How lucky am I! How did I get such a husband? Still, something is bothering him; he looks different tonight. Something must have happened. Should I ask him? No, I better not. He shouldn’t be disturbed now, while he’s studying. We can talk later.
Still, her mind was troubled by what she saw. She mused: I’ve never seen him like that. He looked thoughtful and very sad. Is that a tear in the corner of his eye?
Jesse lifted his head and saw his wife in the corner of the room looking at him. He said to himself: What can I do? How can I do this? She’s the best woman in the world. How can I hurt her? It will crush her! But I must.
The thought weighed heavily on his mind: I’ve no choice. It borders on a Torah prohibition, and I cannot live in sin.
Nizebeth stood up and walked over to Jesse. “What’s going on, my husband? Why are you so upset? It’s not right for you to bring work home and especially not on the Sabbath,” she said, looking at her husband.
Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “We have to talk,” he managed to get out, his voice cracking. “There’s a big problem. Sit down, dear.”
She sat down, her face tense. “What’s wrong?” she asked, “Something about the kids?”
“No and yes,” Jesse said, a determined expression on his face. He had to get it over with. Jesse stopped himself from bursting into tears: “You know I value your righteousness. There is no better woman in the world than you! I am aware that I have the best wife, that our children have the best mother, that you are the best person in the world. But I don’t deserve you,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “I am not worthy of you, because…” Jesse silently wept, tears running down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he continued, gasping. “I don’t deserve to enter the assembly of the Lord. I am a Moabite, and I am not allowed to marry an Israelite woman. In fact, I have no right to serve on the court. Oh, how many laws I have violated!” Jesse put his head down on the table and continued to sob softly. “What I have to say is difficult for me and pierces my aching heart. But I’ve come to the conclusion that we have to separate. This is God’s will. Please, my dear, do not be aggrieved. But there is nothing to be done. I don’t know if my grandmother Ruth deserved to enter the assembly. It is written: ‘No Ammonite or Moabite may enter the assembly of the Lord,’ and I am a Moabite on my grandmother’s side. Please, my dear, forgive me,” Jesse continued to cry.
Nizebeth looked at her husband with feelings of pain. Yes, she too had heard whispers behind her back. She too, knew what her neighbors and friends were talking about behind her back. To herself, she said: I knew this would come one day. I thought it was inevitable.
Tears washed down her face. She whispered: “Oh my righteous husband, my dear companion, you know that what they say is not true. You know the law,” she said, praying that her words would enter her husband’s heart. “You know it says Ammonite, not Ammonitess; Moabite, not Moabitess.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right, dear. But I can no longer live with the doubts and the whispers. I hear what people say, I know how they look at me in court, I feel everything. But enough! It’s decided! We have to part; we can no longer live with this doubt,” he said in a determined voice as he wiped tears from his face. “I hope you understand me and forgive me someday, but the morning after the Sabbath, we must say farewell.”
She burst into tears, knowing there was nothing more to talk about. Her pious husband would not back down. “I understand what you are saying,” she told him. “And I forgive you… You are the best husband there is in the world, and I thank God for every day I get to live with you.”
“I thank you, my dear, I’m sorry to cause you this grief.”
Jesse and Nizebeth sat at the table, tears streaming from their eyes, sorrow covering their faces.
