Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (21 page)

She sighed. “I suppose that explains it.”

“You’ve studied the Arayot. Perhaps you could teach me.”

“Oh
non
, I couldn’t.” Miriam blushed. “I’d be too embarrassed, especially since we haven’t ... I mean since we hardly know each other.”

“Maybe I should ask Meir to teach me then?” Judah hated to admit his inadequate learning, but this was Torah knowledge he needed to know.

“
Non
, you should have Papa teach you,” Miriam said with steel in her voice. Heaven forbid that Meir, and then Joheved, should learn of her new husband’s deficiencies.

“Very well,” he said. “By the way, do you think your father would mind if I called him Papa? My father died so long ago that I don’t even remember him.”

“Oh Judah, that’s a wonderful idea.” Miriam felt a rush of affection for him. “Papa’s always wanted a son.”

They concentrated on the chess game until Miriam paused and looked up at him. “Because you were so interested in Ben Azzai, Papa gave me a list of places in the Talmud that mention him, and I’ve been studying them. But I don’t understand the part in Tractate Chagigah, in the second chapter, where Ben Azzai saw the Divine Presence and died. Papa helped me a little, but he didn’t have time to explain it fully. So I was thinking that maybe you could.”

“I’ve never studied that section.” Judah felt chagrined that his learned wife had asked him about two different areas of Talmud and he was ignorant of both of them. “You must be having doubts about my reputation for scholarship.”

“Not at all,” she said. “Papa doesn’t teach that chapter of Chagigah either. He’d rather not encourage any esoteric studies like the Divine Chariot.”

“He’s right. That knowledge is dangerous.” Judah shook his head quickly. “Besides, to use it properly you need to recite all sorts of secret Divine Names that nobody knows anymore.”

“Papa says that Ben Azzai knew the secret names.” Miriam recalled the text and a daring thought occurred to her. “I may not be able to teach you Arayot, but I can teach you from Chagigah. And then you can help me understand it.”

“You would?” Judah jumped up to open the shutters and then halted. “But it’s too dark to read, and Heaven knows what people would say if they saw light up here.”

“I don’t need to read it. I know it by heart.”

Without hesitation, Judah sat down on the bed next to her. He wanted to make sure he heard every word over the noise below. “Can you start with the part about Ben Azzai?”

“I’ll quote a little of the Mishnah first, so you’ll know where we are.” She took a deep breath and began.

Judah’s mind began to focus as he remembered that Mishnah.

“Then,” she continued, “in the Gemara where they discuss the Divine Chariot, there’s a Baraita about Ben Azzai:

She paused and asked him, “Should I recite more or shall we try to figure out this part first?”

Judah scratched his head. “Let’s finish the passage. The later texts may help us understand the beginning.”

Miriam nodded. “After Rav Akiva’s warning, the Gemara goes:

She turned to Judah. “I think this is a good place to stop for now. The next few pages are mainly about Acher and Rav Meir.” She leaned back against the pillow, truly relaxed for the first time in days. “Who was Acher anyway?”

“His real name was Elisha ben Abuyah; he started out a great scholar, but he died as a heretic. The Mishnah uses his real name, but in the Gemara he’s only called Acher, the Other.”

“So ‘cut down the plants’ means he became an apostate?”

Judah nodded. “This is a bizarre text. Could you repeat the Gemara a few times with me until I know it, too? Then we can try to make sense out of it.”

They recited the verses together until he had them memorized. “Well, I know what all the words mean, but that doesn’t mean I understand the passage.” Judah scratched his forehead. “What does your father, I mean Papa, say?”

“First, he told me that the ‘Orchard’ they entered was the Garden of Eden.” Miriam strained to recall exactly how he’d explained it. “He said that the four men, the greatest sages of their generation, were studying the secrets of the Divine Chariot, and they used a Divine Name to ascend into Heaven.”

She shook her head in amazement. Was the story of the four sages any more bizarre than her and Judah studying it on their wedding night instead of doing what newlyweds usually did? Yet she had to admit that she was enjoying herself, and it sounded like Judah was too.

“It seems that Rabbi Akiva had been there before, since he knew about the marble and warned the others,” Judah said. “But why did the four enter Heaven to begin with?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t you want to see Heaven?” She’d take her chances visiting Heaven if only she could be with Benjamin again.

“Not if it were that dangerous,” Judah said with a shiver. Had it only been a few months ago that he’d been ready to jump into the Rhine? And now he was married to a woman who knew more about Ben Azzai than he did. “Rabbi Akiva warned them not to say, ‘water, water,’ and they obeyed him, yet even so ...” Judah scratched his forehead again.

“True, they didn’t say anything about water,” Miriam said. “But they gazed.”

“Does your father say what they saw?” Judah asked eagerly.

“Papa told me that they looked directly at the Divine Presence, and that Ben Azzai’s soul separated from his body and refused to return.”

“Ben Azzai died young, before he was able to father any children,” Judah said. “No wonder the Sages said his death was grievous to the Holy One.”

“How sad.”

“What about Rabbi Akiva? Why wasn’t he harmed?”

“Papa says there are two possibilities. One is that Rabbi Akiva never gazed directly at the Divine Presence,” she replied. “But Papa showed me where the Gemara asks what verse Akiva expounded to save himself from the others’ fates, so maybe he did look.”

Again Miriam marveled at her strange situation. Sitting in bed together in the dark, both of them talking about Papa, it was almost like studying Talmud with Joheved.

“So what did Rabbi Akiva say?”

Miriam quoted the Gemara’s answer. “It’s the passage about Elijah’s vision in First Kings:

Before she’d said four words, Judah was reciting the text with her. She looked up at him and said quietly, “Papa explained that instead of trying to perceive what the Almighty is, Rabbi Akiva concentrated on what He is not.”

The newly weds sat silently on the bed, wondering about the men who had actually encountered the Divine Presence. Judah yawned and Miriam suddenly felt tired as well. The music downstairs wasn’t so loud and they could hear the guests bidding each other
Bonne nuit
and Shabbat shalom.

“Shall we eat the strawberries now or wait until morning?” he asked her, hinting that it was bedtime.

“We’d better eat them now and not encourage any mice.” Miriam, her appetite now returning, helped herself to several.

The fruit finished, there remained the tricky task of getting undressed and into bed together. Miriam removed her chemise under the covers, and then, unable to bring herself to stand there naked to hang it up, she tucked the garment under her pillow. Then she would be able to modestly put it on again in the morning without leaving the bed. Judah must have done the same, because he didn’t hang up his chemise either.

Miriam held her breath. They were naked in bed together. Was her new husband really going to roll over and leave her in peace? Did she want him to?

“
Bonne nuit
, Miriam,” Judah whispered. “Thank you for teaching me from Chagigah.”

“
Bonne nuit
, Judah.” She waited nervously for any hint of movement from his side of the bed, but there was none. She listened to his even breathing, and finally, exhausted from lack of sleep and days filled with anxiety, she drifted off to sleep as well.

M
iriam’s chest tightened as she prepared to take her new mother-in-law shopping at the Hot Fair. Her first impression of Alvina was of a
femme formidable,
and she had seen nothing yet to change that opinion. Alvina was not a tall woman, but her erect carriage belied that fact. Perfectly groomed and dressed in the latest Paris fashions, even Judah probably never saw her without her makeup.

Outside in Salomon’s courtyard, as the family gathered prior to attending services on Sunday, Alvina had stared at her for a while before embracing her. Miriam could almost see the abacus in Alvina’s mind, calculating her daughter-in-law’s pluses and minuses.

Sure enough Alvina said, “You’re nothing special to look at, but then my son has made it clear for years that he is not interested in outward appearances.”

“
Oui
, Judah follows the advice in Pirke Avot, which says:

Miriam felt proud at not allowing her mother-in-law to intimidate her.

Alvina didn’t exactly smile, but there was a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.

The next day, as they stood at the entrance to the cloth sellers’ tent, Alvina gazed around in awe. Miriam smiled to herself. It was good to see that even a sophisticated Parisian jewelry seller found the Troyes Hot Fair impressive.

Miriam began by taking them past the woolens, looking for Nissim. “I know you want to see the silks, but there’s a wool merchant here who can tell us which ones we should check first.”

“You’re sure you don’t want any silk for yourself?”

“
Merci, non
. I have my wedding outfit and the one Marona gave me,” Miriam said. Two silk
bliauts
were plenty.

Many of the merchants they passed congratulated her on her recent nuptials and offered her special reduced prices on their wares. But Miriam didn’t stop; today was for Alvina.

Nissim stood at his usual table, and he began waving when they were still a distance away. “Miriam, it’s good to see you again. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“This is my mother-in-law, Alvina. I hope you can recommend some silk dealers for her.”

He and Alvina appraised each other shrewdly. “Would you prefer the finest quality, regardless of price or an excellent but slightly flawed piece of silk for a significant discount?” he asked her.

“That would depend on the price of each, and how slight the flaw was,” Alvina replied cautiously.

Nissim nodded and recommended several merchants, pointing out their tables as he spoke. “Gamliel sells the best silk in Troyes, but he knows it and won’t bargain much. The others occasionally match his quality and may give you a better price. Hanina is your man if you’re willing to accept minor flaws.”

“Have you seen Hiyya?” Miriam asked. “Alvina is in the jewelry business and I’d like them to meet.”

“He was at services at the New Synagogue this morning. I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” Nissim leaned forward and lowered his voice. “By the way, I have a very unusual piece of wool, but I’m not sure what to do with it.”

Alvina was intrigued. “Unusual, how so?”

Nissim looked around to make sure they weren’t being observed, then pulled out a wrapped bolt from under the table. “The dyer who did this material must still be kicking himself.” He shook his head. “The poor fellow didn’t have quite enough indigo, so he tried to make up the difference with another dye.”

Rubbing the material between her fingers, Alvina tsked in disgust. “He wasted all that indigo dye, not to mention this excellent wool.”

“You’d expect the best wool if he were planning to dye it with indigo,” Nissim said.

“So he takes a heavy loss,” Alvina said. “Why the secrecy?”

“The wool guilds guard their reputations, and only the finest fabric from each city is allowed at the Troyes fairs.”

“For those who value comfort and durability over appearance,” Miriam said pointedly to Alvina, “this material should serve well. I personally find the different blues swirled together rather interesting.” Perhaps Papa would like it since his wine-colored wool
bliaut
was ten years old. “How much wine do you think this cloth is worth?”

When Nissim named a price a fraction of what she would have paid for similar wool dyed properly, Miriam nodded.

“Now Alvina needs to see some silk,” she said. “I’ll come back later and let you know how many lengths we want.” Judah preferred subdued colors; she might buy some for him too.

As they headed for the silk tables, Alvina took her arm. “Save your family’s wine. If you’re going to get this wool for your father, you may as well buy some for yourself and Judah from my account.”

 

Ignoring the fact that he had been married almost a month and was still a virgin, Judah had never felt happier in his life. Even at the height of his friendship with Daniel, their joy had remained private. But in Troyes, the rosh yeshiva’s son-in-law basked in public approval. Seated at Salomon’s side, Judah spent his days, and most of his nights, learning Talmud with some of the most erudite men he had ever met.