Unbroken

On December 4th, 2026, in Boro Park, preparations for Shabbos Chanukah were well underway, with Erev Shabbos Chanukah falling the following afternoon. Fresh snow coated the sidewalks, new icicles lined the gutters of the buildings, and 30-year-old Breslever Chussid Nachman Chaim Goldberg of Boro Parkitecture was putting the finishing touches on the 3D model for a new Breslev Shul, a satellite community at 1215 61st Street--which was loosely based on a photo he had seen of the Big Shul in Bratslav, Ukraine--with arched windows, a multi-tiered hip-and gable roof, and American Beech paneling along the top two of three floors. The new facility would have benches with folding seats and extending amud (lectern) shelf-boxes, and two ezros nashim (women's galleries), along with the other standard synagogue features.

It was 5pm and Nachman still had to pick up his wife, Shoshana Raizel Trigano-Goldberg, from Apple Bank on 50th street, since they had to prepare schnitzel and keftes tonight for Shabbos Chanukah, along with latkes, spinach kugel and sfinj (Moroccan donuts). The chulent could wait until he got off early tomorrow.

Nachman stood his 5'8" frame up, adjusted his black pinstriped reckel (weekday long jacket) over his vest, shirt and tzitzis (religious fringes), evened his Cognac-toned payos (side-curls), pressed his plain white knitted kippah down, and put on his high felt hat, checking his vest-and-reckel matching pants--as well as his black leather Chelsea boots--for mud or other impurities.

Subsequently, Nachman got into his 2020 Toyota C-HR, drove down to Apple Bank, and found a parking spot across the street.

Nachman was really looking forward to his machotonim, Avishai and Shaindel Trigano of Marine Park, trying his hopefully accurate representation of keftes, which Shoshana had taught him to make the previous year, but his in-laws had been unavailable to attend that particular party due to a previous engagement. Likewise, he looked forward to his mami and tati, Avigail and Moshe Goldberg of Brighton Beach, trying Shoshana's latkes. In fact, this Shabbos Chanukah would potentially be the first time all of the machotonim were together since the wedding, although the parents had insisted on renting a room at the Avenue Plaza, since they all liked having their Shabbos Shluff in relative privacy.

It was 5:35 when Nachman walked into the double doors of the three-story branch, and Shoshana's otherwise professional demeanor shifted slightly upon seeing her husband, adjusting her glen-plaid headscarf around her still-unseen crimson chili hair, fiddling with her matching vest and shin-length skirt and checking her powder-blue blouse for any spots like a seminary girl on a first date, her walnut eyes lighting up like a Menorah and her rosy red lips smiling as she straightened her 5'5" frame.

Nachman waved to Security Guard Señor Herrera as he walked past him and the remaining customers, waiting in one of the chairs, unaware that his ride home was about to be interrupted by a hostile so-called "tourist group" from across the pond.

Two women and three men with athletic figures, duffel coats and long duffel bags walked into the branch, and set their bags down on the tile. The man in the center and one of the women wore herringbone tweed balaclavas, while the other three wore donegal tweed balaclavas.

The man in the herringbone balaclava spoke first.

"Good evening, chaps. Me and my chums would like to make a transaction."

Before Herrera could draw his gun or pull the alarm, the man in the herringbone tweed balaclava pulled a Bren Gun and struck him with the stock, then zip-tied his wrists. Meanwhile, the woman in the herringbone tweed balaclava drew a Sten gun, and held it up to Shoshana's face.

"Oi, Jeremy. Quite the bloody Levantine crowd we have here, don't we."

Herrera helplessly glared as his captors aimed their Lee-Enfields at him, at Shoshana's fellow teller Noor Selim, and at the remaining bound customers (R' Aharon Rapoport and Javier Mendes).

At the same time, it occurred to Nachman that the same weapons that were once used before the establishment of Medinas Yisroel against the old Yishuv--to police streets, enforce curfews, and search shuls--were now being used as weapons of criminal imperialism on American soil.

The man in the herringbone tweed responded to his accomplice with teasing language, which the accomplice seemed to like.

"I'm going down to the vault now, Bridget. Why don't you make the monkeys dance for you while I'm loading up, love? Their lolly's insured, anyways."

Bridget--the woman robber in the herringbone mask--pulled her Sten gun closer to Shoshana's ear. Bridget lowered her voice.

"I take it your sweetheart is here, little birdie. Why don't you point him out for me?"

Shoshana knew that whatever Bridget had in mind was not benevolent, so she kept her mouth shut. Bridget decided to run the barrel of the gun along the small of her hostage's back to intimidate her. Despite all of his seichel telling him to keep his mouth shut, Nachman couldn't stand idle as Shoshana was being bullied. Somehow, his plea came out in the Hebrew that his wife had been teaching him so that he could speak with her cousins from Modi'in.

"T'azvi ota, b'vakashah!"

Bridget smirked underneath her balaclava.

"Well if it isn't our froggy prince! Why don't you give your princess a little snog for the crowd? Timothy, bring little prince over here so he can snog his princess. Blast him if he doesn't by the time Jeremy is out of the vault. I'll blast the little birdie. Violet, James, make sure none of the other prisoners intervene."

Nachman exchanged a knowing glance with Shoshana. There was no way al ha'eretz (on earth) they could perform such a Chillul Hashem by allowing themselves to engage in Giluy Arayos (sexual impropriety), even under the threat of death. Nachman stood tall, like a Judean Lion, for they were consecrated to each other, according to the laws of Moses and Israel; and to allow them to defile something so sacred would be a desecration of God's name on earth. Bridget became impatient while the couple stood tall with their arms crossed.

"YOU TOSSERS! YOUR GOD IS NOT GONNA SAVE YOU!"

Nachman lowered his voice to a level tone.

"I don't care what the Eybishter does to or for me. He's already done plenty in that regard. The least I can do for him is sanctify his name."

However, before Bridget could pull the trigger on Shoshana, Jeremy stormed out of the vault, with the manager having clicked a silent alarm button on his person.

"COME ON BRIDGET, LET'S GET LOST!"

Even so, before Bridget got lost, she decided to leave her mark on Shoshana, striking her hard on the left shoulder with the butt of her Sten. However, despite the best efforts of the criminal imperialists, the NYPD would cut their conquest short.

...

Once Jeremy Shaw, Bridget Sykes, Timothy McManus, Violet Sturgis, and James Frost were apprehended, the couple went home to complete their culinary tasks.

When they had done cooking for the day, they lay in their separate beds, and discussed the plan for Shabbos. Nachman was worried that his keftes might be subpar compared to Avishai's.

"What if I'm not on your aba's level, Shosh? What if he doesn't like the keftes?"

Shoshana knew that Nachman was trying not to remind her about what had just happened.

"Nachman, we survived a bank robbery. Aba would be thankful that we're alive, let alone that we made him Shabbos dinner. Give my aba a little credit, please. In any case, you're lucky I haven't gone to the Mikveh yet this week, because tomorrow I want no excuses."

They both turned out the lights and went to sleep.

...

The next night, Nachman and Shoshana, Moshe and Avigail, along with Avishai and Shaindel lit an asymmetrical mid-century menorah with a Magen David shamash which Nachman had designed and built himself, using olive oil as a fuel.

After the family had performed the candle blessings, sung "Maoz Tzur", and carried out the Shabbos blessings as well, everyone went to the 16th Ave Breslov Shul for Kabbalas Shabbos.

During dinner, Nachman gave a vort about the international history of oppression against B'nai Yisroel and their survival at the advice of Shoshana, as she had him massage her sore shoulder.

"For as long as B'nai Yisrael can remember--whether it was Potiphar's wife trying to get into Yosef's Kaytones haPasim, the Hellenist forces of Antiochus banning the Torah, or the British Mandate over Eretz Yisroel using so-called 'public order' as an excuse to tear down mechitzos at the Kotel and restrict gatherings for B'nai Yisroel and B'nai Yishmoel alike--there is an unfortunate tendency bain hagoyim to pressure us to violate our principles. Yesterday, we experienced a repetition of such cultural imperialism on American soil and we survived. Mrs. Potiphar defamed Joseph and got him put in prison, yet he made it to Viceroy. The Hellenists desecrated our house of the holy, and yet they left pach shemen zayis zach--a single sealed jar of extra virgin, pure olive oil--untouched. The British suppressed religious freedom, and yet in Medinas Yisroel today, no matter how many Israelis or opinions you encounter, all of B'nai Adam now have a place to daven to the Eybishter in their own way. The robbers tried to make a horrible mockery of our marriage, and yet we and our marriage still remain unbroken. God willing our marriage stays whole like the sealed jar. L'Chaim!"

Everyone raised a l'chaim to the couple's survival, then started to Bentsch (bless after the meal).

Avishai then gave the couple a blessing.

"Im Yirtzteh Hashem, may your children be the most stressful thing you have to deal with from now on, and may they still not be as stressful as what you just went through."

...

After the meal--when Nachman had put away his Bekishes (dress jackets) and Shtreimel (his cylindrical fur hat), while Shoshana had put away her long-sleeved, shin length white housedress and matching tichel, Shoshana sat next to her husband on his bed, resting her now-loose crimson-chili curls on his shoulder while gently nudging him over his over-caution.

"Nachi, I went to the Mikveh this morning. I'd rather not have to obtain a get because you were treating me like my namesake beyond what is actually reasonable. If it makes you feel any better, I would prefer you go as easy as usual, as long as I feel your presence as usual."

Nahman gently squeezed Shoshana's zaftig breasts, then eased her bare body across his bed so that he could go down on her, his tongue carefully fluctuating with the dexterity of a menorah flame on a wick. Shoshana moaned softly as Nachman's beard teased her coose, her bare feet crossing around Nachman's equally nude thighs.

"Oh Nachi... You really know how to give me a Shabbat Shalom."

Just before Shoshana was about to reach orgasm, she stopped Nachman.

"Nachi, tisgor s'fatecha rak rega."

Nachman, recognizing that his wife wanted to tell him something important, paused his lip service as she suggested.

"Yes, Shosh?"

Shoshana quoted the Torah portion deliberately out of context, knowing that Nachman would understand what she was saying.

"Shikhba Imi. Mesameach iti."

Nachman, realizing that Shoshana wanted him to really make her happy for Shabbos, obliged, gently ascending Shoshana as she continued to lay on her back, his shmeckel sliding gently into her coose as he kissed her on the mouth, with Shoshana pulling him closer with her legs and arms.

"I love you, Nachi."

Nachman thrusted slowly and gently for Shoshana.

"I love you, Shosh."

As Nachman and Shoshana rejoiced in the miracle of Chanukah and their survival as a couple, they thought of a song called "Gesher Tzar Meod", which Nachman had sang to Shoshana at their wedding with his own English translation.

The entire world at large

Is a bridge narrow and far,

A bridge narrow and far,

A bridge narrow and far,

A bridge narrow and far!

The entire world at large

Is a bridge narrow and far,

A bridge narrow and far!

The main thing that we need to hear,

Is that we need to overcome our fear!

The main thing that we need to hear,

Overcome your fear!

Hopefully, they had crossed the narrowest portion of their life, and the bridge would only get wider, they thought as they approached a climax together, with his seed and her aroused sap intertwining.

As Nachman withdrew his shlanky body from his wife Shoshana, his otherwise neat beard and evenly distributed payos rubbed up against her zaftig olive-complexioned breasts. Nachman figured that if he still had to fulfill his Shabbos marital obligations, he may as well find out before he brushed his teeth. Nachman stood up from his bed.

"Shoshana is there anything else I can do for you before I potz my tzeyn?"

Shoshana reached for her husband Nachman as he turned around after a minute without response.

"I want you to anoint me, Nachman. Anoint me your queen, only this time you're not using the ring."

Nachman glanced hesitantly at Shoshana, running his fingers through her now exposed crimson chili hair and trying to face her walnut colored eyes as he rubbed his head on her zaftig breasts.

"Vos zogstu, Shosh? I don't believe I heard you correctly. You want me lehartiv you? That sounds wrong, especially after last night."

Shoshana shed a few quiet tears, then kissed Nachman on his sandy-complexioned chest, before teasing him over his hesitation, twirling his cognac-toned payos and glancing into his spearmint eyes.

"I thought you said you loved me, Nachi? After that bat zonah left her own mark on me, the least you could do is make me 'mekudeshet' to you 'k'das Moshe v'Yisroel' like you did at our wedding, only this time, if you present me with another piece of jewelry, I'm gonna ask for a get."

Despite his reservations, Nachman decided to indulge Shoshana.

...

The couple was together under the cold shower, but as Shoshana sat on the tub floor opposite the spout, and Nachman kneeled opposite her with his back to the shower-head, Shoshana knew that she only felt warmth despite the blistering New York cold; despite the cold actions that were taken against them; despite the temperature of the shower being cold itself; and despite the inconsistent heating in their apartment. As Nachman anointed Shoshana per her request, she rubbed her coose, since the warmth of feeling loved by Nachman more than compensated for what they had been through together.

The first lights of Chanukah and the lights of Shabbos had both burned out, but the light of their marriage and their love was still burning strong; and as Shoshana washed herself while straddling her soapy tush on Nachman's shmeckel and sitting in his lap, they realized that if their marriage was worth dying to protect, it was definitely otherwise worth living to preserve.