Apprentice (24 page)

“A good question,” Father replied. “But beasts are not created with two different
yetzerim
that they can choose between. They act as they do with no knowledge of good and evil.”

Rami was quick to support my brother. “I learned a Baraita that teaches, ‘People have two kidneys. The right one urges him toward good and the left one urges him toward evil.'” He continued, “As it says in Kohelet, ‘The wise man's heart is to his right and the fool's heart is to his left.' Thus we see that people were created with both
yetzerim.
”

Father nodded his approval, and Rami got to repeat the Baraita until the class learned it.

“Why did Elohim create man with a
yetzer hara
?” Abaye asked. “Why not just the
yetzer tov
?”

Father smiled. “The pious ones of old fasted for three days to receive an answer to this very question. They raged at Heaven, asking if the
yetzer hara
had been created for any reason other than giving reward to those who overcome it.” He cleared his throat and continued, “They declared that they wanted neither the
yetzer hara
nor the reward for resisting it, and immediately the
yetzer hara
was delivered into their hands.”

After the students exhibited various degrees of surprise, Father finished the tale. “They were about to drown it when the
yetzer hara
warned that the world would become desolate if they did. So they imprisoned it instead.” He paused for a moment to build up suspense. “Three days later, they could not find a newly laid egg in all of Eretz Israel. Realizing that killing the
yetzer hara
would make the world barren, they settled for blinding it, and thus men became less inclined to incest.”

“The
yetzer hara
is like a fly of death, corrupting even the finest oil,” Abba said vehemently. “How do we fight it?”

I was surprised that Abba, so much younger than the others, was having such difficulty overcoming his
yetzer hara
.

Father nodded gravely. “The Merciful One gave us Torah as its antidote, as we learn from a Baraita of Rabbi Yishmael. If this
yetzer hara
engages you, pull him into where you study Torah. If he is like stone, he will dissolve, for as it is written in Job, as water wears down stones, so too will the water of Torah study wear him down.” He took a breath and continued: “If he is like iron, he will break, for as the prophet Jeremiah says, as a hammer shatters iron, so too words of Torah are like a hammer that shatters rock.”

The Baraita's words were already firm in my mind while Abba and
Rami were still whispering them under their breaths in their attempt to memorize them. I was both surprised and proud to see that I had a better memory than either of them.

Next Nachman quoted a Midrash on Creation. “Elohim saw all that He had made and found it very good. ‘Good' refers to the
yetzer tov
but ‘very good' refers to the
yetzer hara
. Why is this?” he asked, plainly not expecting an answer. “Because were it not for the
yetzer hara
, a man would not build a house, take a wife, beget children, or engage in commerce.”

Of course my brother would find the
yetzer hara
very good; he and Shayla had five children. But most of Father's students did not yet have an outlet for their urges.

“An excellent point,” Father said. “Studying Torah is how we can control the
yetzer hara
, rather than allowing it to control us. In truth, this is the Torah's very purpose.”

I considered Father's words for some time before concluding that if I wanted to avoid another incident like when I'd kissed Rami in the garden, I would need to study a good deal more Torah. But since most women had no such option, what could a woman do to control her
yetzer hara
?

It look me a few days, but I finally found Abba alone and apologized to him, insisting that I could never face Yom Kippur unless I knew he'd accepted my remorse and forgiven me.

He was silent for some time, during which I could see him struggling inwardly, but eventually he not only forgave me but also asked me to forgive him. This was my opportunity to praise his scholarship and express my desire that he and Rami should be study partners rather than adversaries.

Of course I chose a place where Rami would likely discover us, and to my gratification he could not restrain his curiosity about our conversation. Still, I waited two days, until a cooling south wind was blowing, before I met Rami in the garden. To my surprised relief, Abba was not there.

“What were you and Abba talking about so ardently?” Rami demanded. There was no hesitation in his voice.

I gazed up at Rami with what I hoped looked like innocence. “We were obtaining each other's forgiveness in preparation for Yom Kippur.”
Rami was taken aback by my pious reply, and I continued, “I hope that you and Abba will also find a way to reconcile.”

“After he attacked me in class, I doubt it.”

“But Rami, you must be the magnanimous one. You're older and you're betrothed already,” I pleaded. “Look, hasn't he taken the first step by leaving us in peace here?”

Rami surveyed the garden and, satisfied that Abba was not lurking in the vicinity, said, “Very well, I will approach him.”

“And I must ask your forgiveness too.”

“What for?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“I don't think I'm washing your hands and feet properly anymore. You used to relax and maybe even enjoy it a little,” I said. “But now you seem so agitated, and you squirm so when I touch you. I must be doing something wrong.”

He blushed a deep crimson. “You're not doing anything wrong, Dodi,” he mumbled. “Honestly.”

Apparently my bad mood had been more obvious than I thought, because one morning Grandfather asked if anything was bothering me. I wasn't going to tell him about kissing Rami, and my frustration with weaving silk seemed too petty. So I shared Kimchit's complaints about rabbis deciding matters that weren't their business.

“Ah,” Grandfather sighed. “Unfortunately she is far from alone in feeling that way. Even in cities like Pumbedita, Nehardea, Machoza, and Sura, where we have rabbinic courts and schools, most Jews are
am-ha'aretz
, who do not recognize our authority to interpret Jewish Law according to the Mishna. And in the rest of Bavel, many Jews have heard neither of rabbis nor the Mishna.”

“But…but….” I stumbled over my words trying to grasp the enormity of what I'd just heard. “But who makes the law for them? Who judges their litigation?”

“Outside of our cities, child, I don't know,” he replied. “Maybe they go to a respected elder in their town or use Persian courts. But even those who bring cases to rabbinic courts in Sura don't follow all the same rules we do.”

A slave brought us porridge and bread, which Grandfather blessed. “Kimchit's family doesn't bless the bread and wine before they eat,” I told him.

He nodded. “The
am-ha'aretz
don't make any blessings and they don't write a
ketuba
for their wives—along with myriad other Mishna laws they don't observe. More important, they don't study Torah or think it's important to do so.”

“Yet they follow the Torah.” It was more a question than a statement. “They observe Shabbat, eat kosher meat, and don't lie with their wives when they're
niddah
.”

“For the most part they do, only not as the Mishna requires.” He helped himself to more bread and breathed in its aroma before taking a large bite. “The
am-ha'aretz
don't want rabbis deciding the details of what a Jew can and can't do on Shabbat, what makes an animal kosher or not, or when exactly a woman is
niddah
.” He sighed and added, “Your father excommunicated the butchers in the town of Hutzal twenty-two years ago, but the
am-ha'aretz
still buy their meat.”

“But without rabbis, every Jew would decide these things for himself,” I protested. “There'd be so many disagreements that we wouldn't be able to live together in peace.”

Grandfather smiled and patted my hand. “Rabbis study many years to become experts in interpreting Torah—for the express purpose of ensuring that we all follow the mitzvot properly.”

“How do rabbis make other Jews accept their authority?” We were such a beleaguered minority that it seemed impossible.

“We can't, child,” he replied. “We can only convince them by our words and deeds that this is what Elohim wants.”

I felt proud of having such an adult conversation with Grandfather, and that he saw me as worthy of discussing this significant subject. So when he asked if anything else was wrong, I admitted how disappointed I was that Kimchit had only two proven amulets to teach me.

His eyes twinkled at me. “I believe your Father can solve this difficulty.”

Grandfather led me to the table where Father was still eating porridge. There, with some gentle prompting, I explained the situation, being careful not to upset him by disclosing how Kimchit had disparaged rabbis.

Father stroked his beard and scrutinized me. “If becoming an expert amulet scribe is so important to you, I will have to teach you a proven amulet myself.”

“You know one?” I asked eagerly.

He nodded. “Despite the dangers, people continue to travel, often for long distances. This is what you would inscribe on an amulet for your brother to protect him on a journey.”

I focused my attention to remember Father's words the first time he said them.

“May it be Your will, Adonai Savaot, that You conduct Tachlifa bar Haviva in peace, direct his footsteps in peace, and uphold him in peace. Deliver him from the hand of every foe and ambush along the way. Send blessing on his handiwork and grant him grace, loving-kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who behold Tachlifa bar Haviva. Blessed are You, Adonai, who harkens unto prayer. Amen. Amen. Selah.”

I threw my arms around him. “Oh, thank you, Father. If I inscribe amulets for Tachlifa and Samuel, I'll only need to find one more traveler to write it for.”

“With all the merchants coming to Tachlifa's wedding,” Grandfather said, “you'll have no difficulty finding travelers who need protection.”

Grandfather was right about all the guests coming to Tachlifa's wedding. Yenuka's family had been with us since Rosh Hashana, while Pazi's began arriving the week before Sukkot, filling two of Sura's finest inns. I learned this from Pazi when she moved out of my
kiton
to join them. Since the bride's public procession from her parents' house to her husband's, with her hair loose and crowned with garlands of flowers, was considered evidence that she had married as a virgin, she couldn't just walk downstairs. Besides, it was best if Tachlifa didn't see her for a while before they wed.

I made an effort to avoid the kitchen, as Shayla and Cook had the place in a tumult of preparation for a meal even more lavish than what they'd served the exilarch. Mother was determined that after this feast nobody would remember the food at Achti's wedding. She further declared that my wedding would be at our home whether Pushbi were alive or not.

Rav Josiah, the cosmetics and perfume peddler, made his appearance the day before the wedding. Recommended by Rav Huna, Josiah possessed both excellent wares and an excellent reputation, the latter rare in a trade that sold directly to women in their homes, often when their husbands were away.

After one afternoon in his company, I could see why his pious reputation was deserved. He joked with Mother and my sisters-in-laws, praised their wedding outfits, and advised which perfume or color makeup would make them most attractive. He shared the latest gossip from other clients. Even Zahra, who looked for an excuse to leave when confronted by a strange man, seemed at ease with Josiah. Merely the idea of him seducing married women while selling them cosmetics was ludicrous.

I was delighted when he persuaded Mother to allow him to recommend some cosmetics for me, just a few, he said, and only what would enhance my natural, youthful beauty. Just the smallest bit of blue kohl around my eyes, plus a touch of pink rouge for my cheeks and lips. As for my perfume, only the most delicate and subtle floral scent would do. He rummaged through his baskets, rejecting a rose fragrance as too heavy, lily as too sultry, and lotus as too pungent. Finally he held up a small bottle in triumph. Only after Mother approved did he trickle a drop onto each wrist, assuring me in a whisper that it would strengthen with time.

I went to sleep that night with my hand tucked under my neck, the sweet citrusy smell of etrog blossoms permeating my dreams. Tomorrow morning Mother would unlock her jewelry box and decide what she and my sisters-in-law would wear at the wedding. Maybe there would be a piece for me.

W
hen I came downstairs to break my fast, Mother and the others were already dressing. Father was sitting with Rav Huna and the students who'd stayed with us for Sukkot and Tachlifa's wedding. I was just in time to hear him praise Rami and Abba for how well they studied together now.