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I watched Boy in the Striped Pajamas two years ago, I think. A friend and I watched it together on Thanksgiving day. Yeah it was a bit morbid for that kind of holiday I know.
Anyway, I remember watching the ending scene where the two boys are killed in the gas chamber and the German boys' parents are emotionally breaking down in the rain.
In my mind, I felt so much sorrow. I was thinking "Bruno didn't deserve that, he shouldn't even have been there. He wanted to be with his friend and he was led to his death. This is so awful."
But it was only months later that it hit me. Why didn't I care that much about Shmuel!? I was sad that he died of course but for some reason Bruno impacted me harder. Maybe because Bruno was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Bruno should have been safe at home. But that logic also applies to Shmuel too!!! Shmuel didn't deserve to be there either! Shmuel should have been safe at home too. Just because Bruno partially chose to be there and he was close to being rescued, it shouldn't take away from Shmuel's tragedy.
I hated how the movie made me feel as if Bruno deserved more empathy than Shmuel. I thought it was just me who got tricked but I saw a video that accused the movie of putting more emphasis on the misfortune of the oppressor class than the oppressed. Yes, Bruno's family had their own issues and Bruno was being indoctrinated and seeing cruelty. But it was sad that Shmuel's suffering was just a background thing in the movie. Even Shmuel's death didn't matter much to the narrative in the end. An awful cynic could make the point that Shmuel is arguably partially responsible for Bruno's death since he invited Bruno to come inside with him I believe. The oppressed luring someone from the oppressor class to share in their suffering together. That is complete BS, though. Both boys were innocent children and neither of them deserved to die. The adults around them did not deserve to die either. No one deserved to die, period!
I don't even know where I am going with this post at this point. My main complaint though, is that Shmuel's tragedy was overshadowed by Bruno's and Bruno's death felt more weighty in the end.
Dialogue prompts: “I didn’t know you could love me like that” & “I will never be enough for you, will I?”
When both you and your father Nicodemus take an interest in the Preacher Shmuel so despises, your marriage is bound to collapse.
Requested by Kacey, Mae & Katie
You don’t like having to sneak around your own home, but you have no choice. Upon returning to your house from visiting your parents, you’ve slipped upstairs to the study without making a noise.
Once there, you take out whatever you had been hiding underneath your cloak. A small scroll, able to fit inside the palm of a hand, sits between your fingers, unsealed. As you look over your shoulder towards the door, a sigh of relief floods you as you find yourself completely alone.
You unravel it, thumbing at the inscription on the parchment. Your father’s hand is all too familiar as you swallow hard upon reading what he has written. A report about Jesus of Nazareth. It is detailed, hastily scribbled as if he had been afraid to be found out writing such a thing, and quickly rolled up into a scroll without allowing the ink to dry, causing it to be a little smudged here and there. In spite of its messy appearance, the report can still be read clearly.
Nicodemus had pushed it into your hands upon your departure with a whispered order. “Don’t show anyone.” Not your mother. Not your husband. Nobody. A member of the Sanhedrin cannot be seen voicing a decree of faith as strong and scandalous as your father’s.
Your heart swells and beats for every word about this Preacher from Nazareth, Who is so much unlike any other prophet that had brought the Word of God to the people. Words and actions so unlikely that there was no other explanation but for Him to be the Messiah, the One that had been promised - a proclamation that would not sit well with the religious leaders. After all, it meant that everything everyone had ever believed about the coming of the Messiah would turn out to be false. A dangerous mixture of pride, dogma and tradition lingered at the horizon.
Downstairs, the door opens and closes. “Darling, are you home?” Shmuel’s voice fills the home, and you quickly hide the letter in one of the drawers, straightening yourself out before heading for the door of the study.
“I’m here.” you greet him, meeting him in the hallway. He removes his headdress and grabs your hand to kiss your knuckles. “How was work?”
Shmuel sighs. “It was difficult today, but Yanni and I are making progress. We’re going to get some members of the Sanhedrin on our side so that we can finally tackle the issue from its root.”
“Issue?” you feign ignorance.
“Jesus of Nazareth.” Shmuel says the name with such disdain that it causes your throat to run dry.
Your husband mistakes the draining of colour from your face for fear of the Preacher in question.
“Don’t you worry, my dearest. He will not be a problem to our people for much longer. Everything will go back to normal before we know it.”
He squeezes your hand, then frowns a little as if realising something.
“Have you prepared dinner yet? I can’t make out any distinct smells of food.”
You quickly force a smile on your face.
“I was about to start. I’ve visited my parents, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. How are they doing? How’s your father?”
You let out a sigh. “He’s recovering slowly but surely.”
Shmuel gives you a smile as he ushers you towards the kitchen.
“That’s good to hear. Now, let me tell you that I’m starving.”
“Okay, I’ve received the message.” you sigh, part of you relieved that he doesn’t inquire further about what you had discussed with your father. As he heads to the bedroom to change into something more casual, you start working on dinner.
—
A while passes and Shmuel is talking about Jesus more often than not. The letter from your father still burns inside the drawer of your desk, calling out to you, waiting to be shared. However, Nicodemus had meant these words for your eyes alone. It feels heavy on your heart. You love Shmuel, you truly do, even though your marriage had been an arranged one. The fact that you cannot share your newfound faith with your own husband is like a burden in and of itself.
A flurry of memories has been dancing around inside your mind lately, consisting of your first years of marriage to the rabbi whom was just a student at the time of the wedding. A pious, diligent and ambitious young man with a soft smile that made you weak at the knees. When Nicodemus and Zohara made the right arrangements with his parents in Jerusalem, you were overjoyed to hear the news. After all, you had plenty of friends who married men they ultimately didn’t grow to love even after years of being together. You already knew that you loved Shmuel before the entire topic of marriage even came up in the first place.
And it turned out to be a good match. The pair of you grew to love one another deeper as time went on and you really felt like you and him were equally yoked. Everything about what you felt for him was visible even in the little things you did for him. Not only were you a homemaker who never complained about his late hours at work, but you did small things, too, like baking him a cake for his birthday or stitching up holes in his clothes before he had even noticed them himself. “I didn’t know you could love me like that,” was something Shmuel tended so say every so often, for it was a mystery to him how you could show him such genuine appreciation. “A love like this is something I didn’t know even existed.”
Until a love greater than that suddenly seemed to exist, too. A kind of love that was different from the romantic type of bond two people could form with one another. A spiritual, divine love. A love between God and mankind, rooted in undeserved mercy and grace.
A love that according to you can go hand in hand with your marriage to Shmuel, but a love that according to him cannot coexist.
It tears at your household and rips it apart at the seams. No longer equally yoked. You are fully aware what choice you might have to make, even if it meant ripping your own heart to shreds. Your marriage has been crumbling. Shmuel knows — suspects something — but he doesn’t outwardly say it just yet.
You adore him. You’d do anything for him. He’s still the man you want to grow old with, to father your children, to have it all with.
But for that to happen, something has to change. Sooner or later, it has to change in order to—
“—What is this?!” Shmuel barges into your shared bedroom one morning still in a state of undress. If he didn’t have such a furious look on his face you’d have snorted at the way his beard is trimmed only halfway.
“What is what?” you look up from brushing your hair, turning to him to face him better. He hands you a letter all too familiar and your heart sinks into your gut like a heavy stone to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee. “It’s a letter.”
“I can see that.” Shmuel hisses. “But to whom, and from whom? And the contents? Not to mention the location where I found it! It seems like you deliberately hid it from me.”
For a moment, you consider telling him off for fingering through your personal belongings, but you know you’ll only end up arguing even more than this will cause you to. You swallow hard, but don’t feel any shame. “My father wrote to me.”
“About Jesus of Nazareth. And you happened to forget to tell me?! Especially that he believes the words of this heretic? Because that is what I’m getting from this message!” He throws the parchment into your lap and glares down at you.
No guilt tugs at your heart — only pity, and the wish that things were different — and you let out a long sigh.
“Shmuel, listen. My father and I have been talking about Jesus for a long time, because there is a lot to be said about Him, both His words and actions, and my father has been—”
“—Believing in that heretic! That’s blasphemy and he should be brought before the Sanhedrin! Your father could get stoned for this!”
“He knows the rules— Just listen to me, Shmuel! You have always greatly respected my father and his words, why not now?”
“Why not now— Are you even hearing yourself, (Y/n)?! Jesus is a heretic! A blasphemer!”
“And what if He is not? What if that everything you knew about the Messiah turns out to not be true?!”
Your husband grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes at you.
“And what if He is? He claims to be the Son of God! You… You don’t believe in Him, do you?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at you. “Tell me you don’t, (Y/n). I love you, but I can’t be with a woman who…”
His voice trails off, but he has said enough for it to sting you to the very bone. You swallow away the lump in your throat. Your silence, Shmuel realises, speaks volumes. “You… Have strayed from the path of faith.” Something shifts in his gaze. Something you’ve never seen on him before. You don’t like it one bit.
“No. Quite the contrary - it’s been gaining its true meaning. Now that the Messiah is here—”
“Do not call Him that!”
You stand up firmly, meeting Shmuel’s gaze, almost standing chest-to-chest with him as you look up unwavering.
“You do not get to dictate who I do and do not believe in!”
“You’re my wife, (Y/n). You should listen to your husband!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“No, you have no idea what you’re talking about!”
The two of you lock eyes. Your heart clenches inside your chest painfully, for you don’t want to argue with him, nor do you want division in your household.
“Where is the Shmuel I know?” you whimper, “The kind man who was eager to learn from my father? The one my father spoke so highly of, because you were always so keen to put the Word of God into practise more than your peers? What happened to you?”
“I could say the same thing about you.” Shmuel hisses, “Where is the respectable woman I married? The one who was always so happy to see me after a long day at work, who always listened to me talk about anything, the woman who always prepared me dinner and was there for me when I needed her?”
“She’s still here.” you counter, “But the way you have been acting ever since Jesus showed up is not the man I know and love.”
“Things change, (Y/n).” Shmuel sounds sharp and almost accusatory.
“I know.” Your voice wavers, tears brimming on your eyes. “I know.”
When Shmuel gives you an expectant look, you don’t reply to it. “So… Are you going to do something about it?” He frustratedly asks.
“About what?”
“Going back to being the woman I used to love.”
Used to love.
Whereas you had not let it cross your lips, for you still loved him deeply, Shmuel was suddenly more firm on where he stood.
“Used to?” your voice breaks. “So you don’t…” you trail off, not daring to say it out loud.
“I can’t. I can’t love a follower of that heretic. A follower of the Man claiming such ridiculous things…”
Shmuel’s own dark eyes are swimming with tears as well. He refuses to spill them in front of you, not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability, not even when your entire marriage may very well depend on this moment.
“This is heresy. You are a weak-minded fool falling for the words or a lunatic. Choosing His words over your own husband’s. I can’t love a woman like you.”
That does it. The tears fall and roll down your face as you choke back a sob.
“Take it back. You don’t mean that, take it back.”
For a moment, you see a flash of guilt cross his face. It hardens just as fast.
“No. I will not fail this test Adonai is putting me through right now.”
“Test?!” you gasp, offended, “Shmuel, don’t be ridiculous! How could you ever even consider that this would be God’s way of testing your faith—”
“—Because you’re just like them!”
With widened eyes, you stare at him for a long moment. “Like them, huh? I… I will never be enough for you, will I? You won’t even hear me out as much as you’ve heard out Jesus. You have made up your mind already.”
Shmuel steps closer to you, glaring down at you.
“I want you out of my house.”
“Very well.” you whisper, knowing it’s better to sleep about it for a night or so, taking a little distance to process the situation.
Your heart is heavy as it teeters on the precipice of shattering inside your chest. Your husband’s eyes drill into you as he watches you start packing a few essentials.
“Your family deserves all the shame coming your way.” Shmuel spits like his words are poison, “Both you and Nicodemus are a sham. I hope it was worth it, losing everything we had for this…. This heretic Preacher.”
You close the flap of your bag and pull it over your shoulder. “I’ll be headed towards the inn.” you say, “Will you come and get me when you’re ready to talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be sending you away.”
Shmuel is looking at you with so much hatred in his gaze that you suddenly doubt if you’ve ever been married to him in the first place, or if he’d ever truly loved you at all.
“Okay.” you whisper. It would make following Jesus around the cities somewhat easier, you suddenly think, but it’s accompanied by a bitter hurt that clenches inside your chest and sends a wave of nausea through you. “I’ll see you around, then. I… I love you.”
“Don’t you ever say these words to me again, woman.” Shmuel hisses. “You’re just like the rest of them, you Jezebel, you—”
You close the door behind you, trying to fight your emotions as you refuse to hear him yell these lies told right into your face any longer. Shmuel does not yank it open again, instead stares at the wood for a long while, unable to stop his own tears.
With a heavy heart, you head for your father’s house, your blood rushing inside your ears as you head through the streets, feeling torn to shreds.
For a moment, you halt to rest and look up at the sky, drinking in the sight of the moon. Your tears glitter in its light. Looking over your shoulder, you hope Shmuel will come running, to follow you, to keep you from leaving him and begging for you to tell him more about Jesus, and that he believes that He is the Messiah…
…But he doesn’t come.
The alleyway remains empty.
“You know the truth, even though it offends you.” you whisper into the darkness, “Now it’s up to you what you do with it.”
A silent plea to the man you love so deeply.
Shmuel cries silently in the hallway and gazes out of the window, hoping you’d round the corner, praying you’d return straight for the door, to tell him that you’ve made a grave error in your judgement and that you want to be with him over anything else. That your beliefs had been muddled by pretty lies and that you’d do anything to get back on the path of good faith.
The road leading up to your home also remains void of you.
"My Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise."
[From the opening declaration of the Sh'moneh Esrei silent prayer]
Chana was the mother of the famous prophet Shmuel. She struggled with fertility, and was taunted by her husband's other wife for this. She went to pray to Hashem in the Mishkan, and composed a silent, pleading prayer. Eli the High Priest saw her, and at first thought she was drunk because she was praying without moving her lips, which wasn't the norm at the time. However, she wasn't drunk, and asserted this to Eli. He apologized and promised her that her requests would be answered, and within the next year she had a son, who she dedicated to Hashem by committing him to be a Nazir and serve in the Mishkan. He would become a great prophet who would anoint both King Shaul and King David.
It is because of Chana's original silent prayer that every day, at least three times a day, we have a silent prayer in the form of Sh'moneh Esrei.
We begin the Sh'moneh Esrei by asking Hashem for help to let our words flow, and it's something that's really meaningful to me for when I have trouble finding my own words.
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With the acknowledgement that this is very apt reading for Pesach this year, I feel like we may have lost something in translation that would explain how "he died and a new king reigned" translates to "definitely the same guy, just acting super weird."
Tonight is the night: Episode 6 "Unlawful" is coming out at 6 PM PT. Unfortunately, I won't be able to watch the whole episode live but I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to see what happens to Mary!
Here are my predictions for what we might see in this episode:
Matthew and Simon P will find Mary, but she won't quite return to camp yet. We'll learn more about what she's going through, but she won't be ready to "come back" yet, or if she does, she'll spend a lot of time alone or something. It wouldn't really make sense for her to just "bounce back" so quickly.
Shmuel and Yanni and/or other Pharisees will confront Jesus again.
Ramah might feel partially guilty for what's happening to Mary (even though it's totally not her fault)
We'll see more action from the Sons of Thunder and Philip (they were pretty absent last episode)
Matthew and Simon P will grow to hate each other less as they search for Mary. Maybe they'll start to become (...dare I say it...) friends????
This is probably going to be a pretty heavy emotional episode, so we'll get some light-hearted moments with the other disciples and Jesus.
