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Everything was quiet at last. The night before, the police had taken away my violent husband, who, in an alcoholic rage, had tried to end my life...
The Tragedy of Spousal Abuse
My daughter asks difficult questions about why we divorced and if I hate her father. For now I lie, but it is only a matter of time until she learns the truth about our marriage.
Just as they had celebrated their marriage with joy, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai told the couple, so should their divorce be celebrated in joy.
I take off the jacket, replace it on its rack, and run out the door before the saleslady returns and I will have to explain to her what single mothers do to make it though the month...
"Back in Morocco my husband was a taxi driver. Ten days after our marriage he traveled from one city to the next and I never heard from him again. They say he died in a crash, however, they cannot locate his body, only the wrecked car."
The answer was fast in coming. Less than an hour later the Rebbes secretary stood facing her with good news. "The Rebbe says that you should travel to Warsaw." She was overjoyed! But her smile faded as she realized that there was no more to the message. "...
By the time the Tatars finished their raid, a great trail of blood and destruction would be left in their wake.
It did not take long until they had dragged me before the town rabbi, demanding that I divorce my “wife.”
“Rebbe,” she sobbed, “you are my last hope! My husband left me years ago, and I desperately want to move on with my life. Tell me, O tell me. Where shall I turn?”
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