Friends
A story for children 10-14 about being the "new kid," two kinds of souls, and friendship.
Being the “new girl” is horrible, thought Shari as she followed the school’s secretary into her first class. Even worse: she wasn’t like the others. For most of her life she had attended big-city schools for religious Jewish girls. This public school was in a little town a zillion miles from anything. She bet there weren’t any other Jewish kids her age in the whole school. It was going to be really, really bad. But they were here for her mother’s job, and would be here for two years.
As they entered the classroom, she glanced around, biting her lip. The girls were wearing jeans or shorts and skinny Ts. She was wearing a flared green skirt and a blouse with pale green and yellow flowers. Mom was right: it was a pretty outfit. But Mom was also wrong: no one else was wearing anything like it. And chances of Mom letting her wear jeans and a skinny T were about as good as having Eliahu HaNavi—Elijah the Prophet—appear at the front of the classroom.
As the secretary spoke to the teacher, a pretty girl with long blonde curls leaned across the aisle and whisper to her friend. Both girls stared at Shari for a moment. Then they put their heads together again and tittered. I guess I know who the mean girls are, Shari thought. This was her third school in five years, so she knew what to expect: trouble. Even if Mom thought she was exaggerating.
The morning went as she expected. She was ahead of the class in math and English, but behind in U.S. History. She had never heard of field hockey, the game they played in P.E. The teacher had put her on a team anyway. And of course no one ate lunch with her, but she expected that. She had brought a kosher sack lunch from home. The school’s food wasn’t kosher so she couldn’t eat it, but almost everyone else went through the cafeteria line. Then, just after she unwrapped the three cookies Mom had tucked into her lunch, Blondie—Shari thought her name was Harrison—and her pal—Morgan?-- walked past. With a quick flick of her hand, Blondie sent the cookies flying to the floor. Then she stepped on them and crushed them with her heel. “Ooh, sorry!” she said in a fake voice. She and her friend laughed and sauntered off. Shari sat and looked at the crumbs on the floor. This is going to be a great year.
The next day, again she was the only girl wearing a skirt. Harrison and Morgan cornered her at recess. “Ooh, are you going to a party?” asked Harrison in that fakey-fake voice. “Wearing a skirt? Or do you just think you’re better than us?” Shari looked at Harrison’s tight shirt that ended above her belly, so her belly-button ring showed. At least I respect my body more than you do, Shari thought. But she didn’t say anything, so finally the other girls walked off.
Shari remembered that Mrs. Shapiro, who taught Midos (proper Jewish behavior) at her old school explained that God lends us a body for our own use. Showing off that body is disrespectful to God, like sharing a family secret is disrespectful to the family. And a belly-button ring? Tattoos and all piercings except earrings mess up the body that we use, but which belongs to God. It is like spraying graffiti on someone else’s property. And worse: dressing like that, flaunting one’s body, attracts the interest of animal souls.
This didn’t mean that showing off your body made lions and bears come to you. It was because each person had two souls. The animal soul was concerned with things that people share with animals, like being hungry, going to the bathroom, and spending hours at a gym to have a beautiful body. The godly soul was all about loving one’s family, being grateful for all the good things God gave, learning God’s ways and trying to be like Him. Being generous and patient and kind.
Last year, after awhile Shari thought she could see the difference between kids whose lives were about their animal souls, and those who focused on their godly souls. The first followed the crowd and were often selfish and sometimes mean. The second tried to do the right thing even if it wasn’t easy. But now she wondered if it was really that easy to tell the two apart. At first, it looked to Shari as though most of the girls were stuck in animal-soul mode. Now she wasn’t so sure. Some of the kids dressed like everyone else but still seemed to be nice, good people, even though they weren’t friendly to her. Mom had said to be careful choosing her friends. But it was hard. She wasn’t sure how to begin.
Her first month passed, then her second. Now it was March, the start of a beautiful spring. She still hadn’t made a single friend. Three days a week she learned Jewish studies by zoom, and she often texted and talked with her old friends. But their lives were very different than hers now, and she was lonely.
Today she was taking a new route to the library, walking along a street she didn’t know. Suddenly she heard a scream. It was coming from a side street. Shari ran toward the noise. Maybe someone tripped and fell, or was attacked by a dog!
A gray van pulled out of the side street going too fast. It careened around the corner, scaring Shari. Then she heard crying. Maybe the van had hit someone! She dashed up the side street as fast as she could. Coming to a construction site, she saw something behind a dumpster. The crying was coming from there.
Looking around, she didn’t see anyone. Carefully she approached the dumpster. Behind it, huddled on the ground, was Harrison. Her hands covered her face and her long, bare legs were scraped. That’s what happens when you wear short-shorts and fall, thought Shari. But Harrison was hurt. She needs help. That’s more important than how I feel about her.
She squatted down and lightly touched Harrison’s shoulder. “What happened? Can I help?” she asked.
Harrison took her hands away from her face. On the left side was a big, red mark, the size of a fist. She hadn’t fallen—she had been punched! “Shari?” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t you hurt me too!”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Shari said. “But someone did. Maybe I can help.”
Harrison straightened slowly. “Why would you help me?”
“Because you’re a person and you’re hurt,” said Shari. “Can I call someone for you? Where’s your phone?”
“The big boy took it.” Harrison sniffed back her tears. “The one who grabbed me and tried to get me into his van. But my dad couldn’t come anyway.”
“That gray van that sped away? He was in a real hurry,” Shari said.
“Yeah,” said Harrison. “He grabbed me and said he would give me a good time. I told him I had to get home, I need to take care of my grandma. Her care-giver leaves before school gets out and she shouldn’t be alone. I kicked him and screamed. He punched me so hard I fell.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him around. I think he’s in high school.”
Shari looked at Harrison: her short-shorts looked like denim underwear, and her tight T-shirt showed off her belly-button ring. I think this is what Mrs. Shapiro means about animal souls attracting other animal souls, she thought.
“I don’t have a cellphone,” Shari said. “But I can walk you to wherever you’re going.” She shifted her backpack. Then she picked up the books that Harrison had dropped. “Can you stand up?” She reached out her free hand and helped the other girl stand.
Harrison took her books, then looked at Shari. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me.”
“If I were hurt you’d help me,” Shari said.
Harrison shook her head. “No, I think I’d lau…” her voice trailed off. “I, I think I would have laughed and walked away. But now...now I don’t know.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. “I’m sorry,” Harrison finally said. “I treated you bad. I don’t deserve you being nice to me. But you dress so strange. Why do you always wear skirts and long-sleeved blouses instead of pants and cute tops?”
Shari wondered what to say. Then she decided honesty was best. “I’m Jewish,” she began. “Orthodox. That means we follow our tradition.”
“So what?” asked Harrison.
“Well, we believe that our bodies are private. They are the part of us that is like other animals. My teacher at my old school said they want to eat and sleep and do all the animal things. By keeping them covered, we protect them from other animals.”
She took a breath, and Harrison broke in. “What do you mean, ‘protect them from other animals?’ There aren’t any wild animals here in town.”
“I think that doesn’t really mean bears and stuff,” said Shari. “I think it means people who do whatever their animal souls want. Like that creep that attacked you. He wasn’t thinking with his godly soul, because the godly soul wouldn’t ever want to hurt another person or make them do something they don’t want to do. Unless, of course, they had a good reason, like when your mom makes you clean your room because you have to learn to take care of yourself.”
“Huh,” said Harrison. They walked silently a few more moments. “Tell me more about this. We haven’t gone to church since my mom died when I was in third grade. All I know about the soul is that if I don’t accept Jesus I’ll go to Hell.”
“Jews don’t believe that,” said Shari.
“That’s good. I don’t want to go to Hell.” She sighed. “But tell me more about these two souls.”
“Outside of hands and faces, our bodies are ruled by our animal soul, and we keep them private. Our hands and our faces are different, though, which is why we don’t cover them. Hands and faces can reflect our Godly souls. Our hands can do bad things, but they also do things that are like God. That's stuff like helping others and giving charity. Our faces show who we are deep inside. Mrs. Shapiro says that inside is where the godly soul is, even in people who don’t know they have one. That soul can feel shame or joy, depending on which soul we focus on.”
“You know a lot about this,” Harrison said. “Are you planning to be a nun or something?”
“No, but I learned a lot about it for my bat mitzvah last year.”
They turned onto another street. Shari looked around. The houses here were small and badly kept. She had thought Harrison must live in a big, fancy house, but it looked like that wasn’t true. Her life wasn’t so great: her mom was dead and she had to take care of her grandmother after school. And clearly her dad didn’t have a great job.
Harrison stopped in front of a house that was a little nicer than the others. At least, the yard was mowed. A ramp went from the front step to the path. “I’m not allowed to have friends over, they scare my grandma,” she said. “Thank you for being a friend even though I wasn’t one to you. I think maybe my animal soul needs to be housebroken.”
“Well,” said Shari with a smile, “We weren’t friends before, but I think we’re friends now. Put some ice on your cheek, it will help. And wash those scrapes well with soap and hot water, then put some alcohol or antiseptic cream on them.”
Harrison laughed. “Are you a doctor, too?”
“No,” said Shari, “but I’ve fallen and gotten scraped. You’ll be fine in a few days. See you tomorrow.” She turned and started off. At the corner she stopped and looked back. Harrison still stood on the doorstep and raised her hand. Shari smiled and waved. Harrison waved back, then turned and went inside.
For Parents, Teachers and Others
I believe that the concept of two souls—one earthly and one heavenly—explains many things about human behavior. As long as it does not conflict with non-Jewish dogmas, then it can be helpful to non-Jews as well as Jews.
When I first heard the concept of people having two souls—a godly soul and an animal soul— it pulled together a whole lot of experiences and ideas that had puzzled me. This kabbalistic concept permeates traditional Judaism, but I never heard it spelled out clearly until I began studying Chabad Hasidism. The concept is explained in depth in Tanya, a work by the first Lubavitcher Rebbe, Shneur Zalman of Liadi, published originally in 1796.
This article, Nefesh HaBahamis (Animal Soul) Nefesh HoElokis (G-dly Soul) explains it. Here’s another article about it: 16 Facts You Should Know about the Tanya.
This article explains the Jewish view of modesty very clearly: Uncovering the Mystery of Modesty.
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