Read Online The Sisters Weiss by Naomi Ragen - Free Book Online

found it necessary to clear his throat harshly before he could utter a single word. “But surely, the Honored Rav does not mean that Rose should have no contact at all with her family?”
    “Like Joseph the tzadik, she must undergo this total separation for a short time in order to grow into the pious, good wife and mother she is meant to be. Of course, this is up to you. But if you are strong and are able to resist your natural feelings, my advice will bring blessing to her and your whole family.”
    “Yes, Honored Rav. Thank you, Honored Rav,” Rabbi Weiss said meekly, getting up to go.
    His wife followed, her face frozen. Once outside the door, he turned to her in agony.
    “How can we send our Rose away?”
    Bracha Weiss looked at her husband in surprise. “We have asked the Honored Rav for his advice. And now we must follow it to the letter. As it is written: ‘Do not turn from their words either to the right or to the left.’”
    “And Rashi says: ‘Even if they tell you right is left or left is right…’” Asher Weiss grimaced.
    The session was over, Rose thought, looking at her parents’ miserable faces as they exited. And so is my life.
    *
    The next day, her father handed over the borrowed book, wrapped in a plain brown paper bag, to the principal of Bais Yaakov, informing him that his daughter Rose would not be returning. After examining the book thoroughly, the principal agreed. He called in the Goldbands, returning the book and expelling Michelle.
    Later that evening, Rose was called into the living room.
    “You are going to live with your bubbee.”
    She was stunned. Her grandmother lived in faraway Borough Park, where she knew no one. It was exile.
    “But Mameh, Tateh, please, please don’t send me away from the family! I’ll never do it again!”
    “We have no choice,” her father said sadly, looking down at the floor, before putting on his hat. “I’m going to daven Mincha.”
    She ran after him into the street, begging, “Tateh, please, please!”
    But he was gone.
    “Stop making a tzimmis! You want the whole neighborhood should hear?” her mother said harshly, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her back up the stairs.
    “But Mameh, I … you … can’t. Please!”
    “Your tateh told you. It’s not up to us.”
    She was astonished. “But you are my parents!”
    Her mother held up her hand. “There’s nothing to discuss. The Honored Rav said. If you behave, you will be allowed to come back in a year’s time,” her mother continued, her eyes hard, her lips pinched into a thin line of determination. “There’s nothing to talk about. The tighter you hold on to the Honored Rav’s gartel, the more it will help you.”
    “He doesn’t even wear a gartel! We’re not even Hassidim!”
    “Chutzpah yet! You talk back, yet? Gartel or no gartel, his Torah knowledge and piety put him in direct communication with the Holy One, blessed be He. He has Daas Torah, a special connection to the will of the Holy One. Who are we to argue? Besides, you can help your bubbee with her housework and keep her company. It will be a great chesed, a way to make teshuva for all your sins. Here, I’ve packed you a suitcase.”
    “What, you mean now? I’m going now?” She sobbed uncontrollably.
    “Stop! Enough already! It will be easier for you if you just behave and listen. Here, I bought you some new things for your new school.”
    “What? I’m not going back to Bais Yaakov?”
    Her mother said nothing, handing her two pairs of stockings and a pair of shoes. The stockings were dense with thick, ugly seams, and the shoes the kind her bubbee wore.
    “These are Satmar clothes.”
    “They are called Palm stockings. The Satmar rebbe himself invented them. They brought him samples of stockings, and he would pull them over his own arm, testing them. If he could see his hairs, he said no. Finally, he found this material. Now, every woman and girl in Satmar wears them. STOP CRYING. The Honored Rav said