There‘s a wonderful religious breathing scene in Ani Tuzman’s novel, The Tremble of Love. The novel is based on the life of the 18th century Jewish mystic Rabbi Yisroel ben Eliezar, also called the Baal Shem Tov.
In the scene, Leah, the local Jewish shoemaker in the Polish town Okup, has been imprisoned by Christians for blood libel. A mob of young men are trying to get into her cell for revenge.
„Breathing in the foul mustiness, Leah felt a sudden rising panic that made the dank room feel smaller and airless. She had to breathe fresh air or she would die in this merciless crypt. She tried to stand but she hit her head on the low roof of her cell. The clammy walls she found on hands and knees closed in around her. Dark and fear were swallowing her. She had to calm herself. She would take God‘s name. That‘s it. There were many to choose from. She would repeat them out loud, one by one, slowly, over and over again: Adonai, Ein Sof, Shechina, HaShem. „Breathe through me.“ She must feel God‘s love around her, in her. She would think of God‘s love as the air she breathed.
Suddenly Leah heard angry shouting, a cacophany of voices coming from a distance. She heard the words „Jewish witch“. Then other Polish curses amidst the clammering of what sounded like sticks hitting tin. A herd of angry men….The sounds were advancing towards the cell. The men were drunk…. A thunderous banging on the doors began and the curses grew louder. Leah closed her eyes. „Protect me, Adonai. Surround me with your love.“ The violent mob drew louder. Leah drew in her breath. „Preserve my life for my son‘s sake, for Rifka, and Aria.“
She heard the doors groaning as if they could not much longer resist the weight against them. The doors were forced open. At the thunder of boots above her head, Leah began to whisper the Shema prayer: „shema Adonai achad“, „here our God is one“. She had not imagined dying this way but now that the time had come she would not be separated from her faith.
She repeated the prayer, louder until she found herself intoning just the word for „here“, „shema“, as long as her breath would carry it. The syllable seemed to extend infinitely beyond Leah‘s ability to breathe it. Suddenly Leah felt a vast black sky over her, no heavy boots or storming drunks, just a black void….”
Source: Ani Tuzman, The Tremble of Love, Dancing Letters Press, 2016