Read Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam Online

Authors: Maggie Anton

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BOOK: Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam
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“There wasn’t any girl this time.” Judah replied, his face bright with shame. “Uncle Shimson couldn’t find anybody who’d risk being rejected like all the others.”
“Nobody?” Azariel put down his fish and stared at his brother. Judah was rich, handsome, and a scholar. And nobody wanted their daughter to marry him?
“Nobody.” Judah’s humiliation was complete.
“What’s the matter with you?” Why was his brother being so uncooperative? Surely any woman was better than Lillit. Besides, procreation was the first commandment and Judah was so pious.
“Nothing’s the matter with me,” Judah whispered fiercely. Others eating breakfast at the inn were staring at them. “I just didn’t find any of them attractive enough to marry.”
“What do you mean, not attractive?” Azariel had seen most of Judah’s prospective brides, and he would have gladly wed any of them—well almost any of them.
Judah looked for a relatively clean spot on the tablecloth to wipe his mouth. It had started the first time he came home from yeshiva. Each festival a strange girl and her parents would come to call. The girl was always buxom, pretty, and devoid of any shred of intelligence. She and her mother would look at him like he was a plate of pastries they couldn’t wait to devour, while her father seemed to see a pile of gold. They filled him with terror, and he would refuse the match.
So it continued—another festival, another girl. Each girl plumper than the last, and the thought of touching all that jiggling flesh almost made him nauseous. The girls’ parents started to look like vultures. Each girl he rejected protested to her friends, and soon Alvina began to complain that her stubborn son was making her an outcast in the community.
Azariel cleared his throat, and Judah realized he was waiting for an answer. “They were all too fat. When I see a woman, I don’t like being reminded of a pig.”
Azariel didn’t know what to say. Most Frenchmen preferred voluptuous women—whose ample breasts proved how well the next generation would be nurtured, between whose generous thighs they would take their pleasure. Women, in turn, dressed to appear as plump and fruitful as possible. Some even wore neckbands that, when pulled tight, made their chins look doubled. What kind of man wouldn’t want a full-figured wife?
“Perhaps he prefers boys,” he muttered.
Azariel hadn’t intended Judah to hear, but Judah had heard, and it was as if his brother had hit him.
 
Later, fuming over his brother’s insinuations as they rode toward Mayence, Judah tried to recall the most complicated halachic (legal) discussion he could. He sent his mind back over Tractate Bava Metzia, an advanced text full of problems involving contracts and damages, but he kept returning to an aggadic (nonlegal) section at the beginning of the seventh chapter, one he had studied with Daniel a year ago. It began with a description of an exceptionally handsome rabbi:
One who wishes to see the beauty of Rav Yohanan should bring a new silver cup and fill it with red pomegranate seeds, and place a garland of red roses around its rim, and set it where the sun meets the shade. That vision is the beauty of Rav Yohanan.
The text then proceeded to catalog the phenomenal beauty of several sages, eventually going back to the patriarch Jacob and the first man, Adam, but leaving out Rav Yohanan. Then the Gemara explained:
The beauty of Rav Yohanan is not mentioned because Rav Yohanan did not have splendor of face (a beard). Rav Yohanan used to sit at the
mikvah
’s gate, and he said: “When the daughters of Israel come up from their immersion, let them meet me so that they will have sons as beautiful as me, learned in the Torah like me.”
It was then that Daniel sighed and, not looking directly at Judah, said, “Rav Yohanan may have been more learned than you, but I doubt he was more beautiful than you. And you don’t have a beard either.”
Judah was too astonished to speak. Since childhood he was aware that others considered him attractive, but nobody ever called him beautiful. Alvina, terrified of the Evil Eye, shushed anyone who mentioned her son’s appearance.
“Rav Yohanan may have been proud of his beauty, but I find it a curse,” Judah confided sadly. “In Paris the women give me covetous looks, while the men’s eyes are like daggers. It’s a relief to be back at the yeshiva.”
 
Judah’s reverie ended as they approached the city gates. The next morning, when Isaac ben Judah, the rosh yeshiva, sternly called Judah into his study, he found that returning to the yeshiva was anything but a relief. Leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, Azariel looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“What are you doing here?” Judah demanded. He had no idea why he was about to be disciplined, but he didn’t need Azariel’s presence to add to his dishonor.
Azariel shrugged his shoulders. “Uncle Shimson told me to deliver a letter to your
maître
and wait for your response.”
The rosh yeshiva silenced them. “Judah, you are one of my finest students, so I’m grieved to hear your uncle call you a rebellious son. Is it true that despite his best efforts to find you a suitable bride, you have refused every match?”
Judah started to defend himself, but Isaac cut him off. “Your brother tells me that you have no injury or illness to explain transgressing our Creator’s commandment to procreate.”
Judah nodded and the old man continued, “You know the text from Tractate Kiddushin as well as I do:
Until a man reaches the age of twenty, the Holy One sits and waits expectantly—When will the man take a wife? But when the young man reaches the age of twenty and has still not wed, He says ...”
Judah realized he was expected to finish the verse.
“May the bones of this one be blasted.”
“And what does Rav Huna say on this subject?”
“He who at the age of twenty is still not married will spend all his days in sinful thoughts.”
Judah could no longer restrain himself. “But I spend all my days studying Torah, not thinking about sin.”
“I know you fancy yourself another Ben Azzai, but even he married Rabbi Akiva’s daughter.” The rosh yeshiva held up his hand, forestalling any further argument. “I will not tolerate sin and disobedience among my students. If you are not married in a year, I will put you in
herem
.”
Azariel squirmed as he shared the anguish of Judah’s disgrace. But outside in the hall he saw an opportunity to return to his brother’s good graces.
“You told me that our uncle brought you unattractive women.” He tried to sound encouraging. “Tell me what you want, and I will find you a bride more to your liking.”
Judah couldn’t believe that he would actually be expelled from the yeshiva if he remained a bachelor. He paced the corridor, fists clenched, his shame turning to fury.
“I will not settle for less than Ben Azzai. I don’t care what she looks like, but I want a scholar’s daughter. And not only a scholar’s daughter, but a learned woman herself.” He threw the words at Azariel like a gauntlet. “Find me a woman who has studied about Ben Azzai, who knows the difference between Hillel and Shammai, and I swear I will marry her.”
“And if I cannot find such a paragon?” Azariel was reluctant to leave Judah with such an oath on his lips.
“If you have not found her in a year, I will marry whomever you choose, no arguments.”
Azariel grinned. “I will find you a bride beyond your expectations.” He was an expert at locating unique and precious merchandise for his fastidious clients, and he would now put all his business skills at his brother’s disposal. What a challenge!
The brothers said good-bye at Judah’s lodgings, and once Azariel was out of sight, Judah gave in to despair. He greeted his landlord, an elderly silversmith busy at his workbench, then went upstairs and flopped down on his bed. He tried to distract himself with Talmud, only to be brought back to the story of beautiful Rav Yohanan.
One day Rav Yohanan was swimming in the Jordan River. Reish Lakish (a gladiator, and some say an outlaw) saw him and (thinking he was a beautiful woman since he had no beard) jumped into the Jordan after him. Rav Yohanan said to him, “Your strength should be for Torah,” and Lakish replied, “Your beauty belongs to women.” Rav Yohanan said to him, “If you repent, I will give you my sister in marriage. She is even more beautiful than I.” So Reish Lakish agreed ... Rav Yohanan taught him Scripture and Mishnah, and made him into a great man.
Judah recalled how Daniel had sighed after they read that text. “If only we could marry each other’s sisters? But then we’re both already betrothed.”
That was when Judah confessed that, despite his advanced age, he was not yet betrothed. At first Daniel was skeptical; people who remained single had something terribly wrong with them, like leprosy. Only Daniel’s great affection for Judah swayed him toward sympathy.
“What difference does it make who you marry?” Daniel asked. “You’re only going to see her twice a year for a couple of weeks. Most of the time, she’ll be living in Paris, and you’ll be studying here.”
Azariel said the same thing. Yet each time Judah met a potential mate, it was like God hardening Pharaoh’s heart in Egypt. Something in him would not let him acquiesce. Thinking about Daniel only made Judah feel worse, but he couldn’t tear his thoughts away. The comparison to Rav Yohanan and Lakish didn’t help any. Their story ended in tragedy.
“Judah, wake up.” An insistent voice at the door interrupted his reminiscence. “It’s time for evening prayers.”
The voice belonged to Shmuel, better known as Shmuli, his roommate as well as the landlord’s grandson. Shmuli was a chipper lad about fourteen years old, whose father insisted that his eldest son should study Talmud. Shmuli, on the other hand, would rather spend his time helping his grandfather work the precious metals. He cheerfully acknowledged his inability to remember much of what he heard in class. Not everyone could be a great scholar like his friend Judah.
When Judah learned that Shmuli would be his study partner, he had nearly packed his things and left the yeshiva. That he should be paired with its worst pupil was proof of his pariah status. But things had not turned out badly. Shmuli was as endearing as a frisky puppy and not nearly as stupid as Judah had been led to believe. The boy had no trouble understanding Gemara; he just had no interest in memorizing it.
 
Yet Judah longed for a study partner at his own level. Eventually he found the courage to approach one of the merchants who frequented the yeshiva, a mature man who confidently sat up front with the scholars. Unfortunately the fellow only stayed in Mayence a few weeks—his true destination was the Cold Fair in the French city of Troyes. But he was happy to study with Judah until his caravan left.
The next time, Judah had not yet made his selection when a dark, hawk-nosed merchant approached him. “Shalom aleichem. I believe we are both looking for study partners,” he said with a curt bow. “Natan ben Abraham of Prague, at your service.”
The man’s voice was silky smooth and Judah looked at him closely. Natan had a young man’s body, but his greying temples revealed him to be about twice Judah’s age. On one hand he wore a large emerald set in a thick gold ring and on the other a ring with a black pearl. Judah introduced himself in return and waited. The older man intrigued him, yet he felt hesitant.
“Join me for supper and we’ll discuss today’s text.” Natan sounded sure of himself. “The inn I’m staying at, Josef’s Grotto, is a favorite with scholars; you’ll find the atmosphere different from your usual tavern.”
Swayed by the man’s charisma, and curious about such a tavern, Judah agreed. Natan threw on his black, fur-lined cloak and they set off. Sure enough, the inn was entirely populated by men, either reading or engaged in quiet conversations. Natan showed Judah to a small table near the fire and explained that he expected to spend several months in town on business. He often arranged his affairs so as to winter in Mayence and continue his Talmud studies there.
Natan chatted about life in Prague and then extracted Judah’s history, receiving the young man’s gratitude by not commenting on Judah’s bachelorhood. As they conversed, Judah found Natan both urbane and charming, and when the table was cleared and they began to study, he discovered that Natan was a proficient scholar as well.
And so the months passed. In the daytime Judah studied with Shmuli, but he spent his evenings at the scholars’ inn with Natan. Sometimes Natan’s associates joined them and Judah felt flattered to be accepted as an equal by the sophisticated older men. What did he care what they thought of him at the yeshiva?
 
One rainy evening in February, Judah and Natan were having their customary meal together. The sharp sounds of hail hitting the roof made Judah skittish and Natan seemed distracted as well. Suddenly there was a flash of lightning followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder. Judah jumped out of his seat, causing Natan to place his hand on Judah’s arm in reassurance.
But instead of letting go once Judah had calmed, Natan smiled and whispered in his silky voice, “No need for you to go out in this foul weather. I have a comfortable room upstairs.”
Judah was suddenly conscious of Natan’s warm hand gripping his bare forearm. Natan was staring at him, waiting for his reply, and his penetrating gaze reminded Judah of the hungry expressions of his prospective brides and their mothers. To his horror, Judah felt his loins stir with arousal.
This was what the rosh yeshiva had warned him about, what would happen if he didn’t marry by twenty. Judah didn’t care if he was hit by lightning, he wasn’t going to stay the night with Natan. He stuffed his books under his cloak and, making a feeble excuse about not feeling well, bolted out the door.
Sitting abandoned at their table, the merchant looked up as a younger man, perhaps about thirty, with sandy hair and a sympathetic smile, walked over and took the seat that Judah had so precipitously vacated.
BOOK: Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam
10.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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