Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (22 page)

In the Rhineland, Judah’s first task had been to memorize the text and understand what each word meant, and if he were diligent he would eventually grasp the give-and-take of the arguments. But the men he sat with now were not only cognizant of each argument, each scholar brought his own unique wisdom. The merchant from Barcelona had learned how a particular Torah verse was used to support argument A, while one from Narbonne knew why a different verse had been rejected, and the scholar from Kairouan understood how a certain verse, which ought to have supported argument B, in fact supported argument C instead.

It was as if, after years of enjoying food with salt alone, Judah was suddenly offered pepper and saffron. Yet there was more. His mother was pleased with him. Instead of lodging at Sarah’s, his mother had taken a room with Samuelis, the widow whose house shared Salomon’s courtyard. Alvina so was busy getting acquainted with the jewelry merchants in town that he seldom saw her. She hadn’t looked this happy in years.

But the best thing was discovering his father-in-law’s
kuntres
, the commentary that Salomon was writing on the Talmud. Judah remembered the day well; he had been married almost two weeks at the time. The morning had not begun auspiciously. The night before, with the moon just past full, Miriam brought out her
sinar
and warned him that she was
niddah
. Judah, having overlooked the fact that his wife would naturally become
niddah
if they didn’t have relations, froze.

All the whispered rumors about menstruating women came back to him: when a woman meets a snake on the road, it is enough for her to announce “I am
niddah
” for the reptile to hastily glide away; a scholar is forbidden to greet a
niddah
because the utterances of her mouth are unclean; one should not walk behind a
niddah
and tread upon her footsteps since even the dust beneath her feet causes impurity; her very gaze is injurious, causing drops of blood to form on her reflection in a mirror. Now Miriam was
niddah
.

He slowly backed away. “Perhaps it would be better if I slept downstairs?” he stammered.

Her eyes narrowed in anger. “If you want to sleep with the servants, I won’t stop you,” she replied. “Considering that you have no trouble restraining yourself while I’m permitted to you, I don’t see why my being
niddah
should require more diligence.”

But Judah remembered a story in Tractate Shabbat about a student who had died young because he slept in the same bed as his wife while she was
niddah
, even though he didn’t so much as touch her little finger. So Judah set up a cot at the other end of the room from their marital bed.

When he woke up the next morning, Miriam was gone, and at breakfast he learned that she was attending the doctor’s wife, Francesca. Miriam still had not returned at midday, and Judah began to realize that he had no idea what form his new wife’s displeasure would take. He ate little for
disner
; his stomach was a bit queasy.

After the meal Salomon announced that he would be teaching Tractate Niddah that summer, giving Judah the uncomfortable suspicion that Miriam had communicated with her father.

Salomon began with a brief introduction. “Vessels the
niddah
touches today are clean, even for her husband. For we are already impure from graves, houses of dead people, and corpses; and we will remain impure until the days of the Messiah.

“However,” he continued, seeming to stare straight at Judah. “Her husband restricts himself and does not eat from the same bowl as her, neither does he sit on her seat or receive anything directly from her hand. This custom is proper to prevent sin between them.”

“So if a
niddah
wishes to give her husband something, say a book,” Rachel said. “How does she do it?”

“She may hand it to another person, who in turn gives it to her husband,” Salomon replied. “Or she may put it down and leave it for him to pick up.”

“And in the synagogue?” asked Shemayah. “I heard that women are forbidden to enter while they’re bleeding, while it is permitted during their ‘white’ days.”

Salomon stroked his beard a moment. “Maybe some women do this because they think the synagogue is like the Holy Temple. But if this is the reason, then what about the rest of us who are impure from corpses? For we all attend synagogue.

“
Niddah
affects only a woman’s relationship with her husband.” Salomon emphasized the word “husband.” “If she wishes, she attends services as usual, prays as usual, and if she is accustomed to study Torah, she studies as usual.”

These were their teacher’s final words. All but the youngest students followed Salomon and Joheved to the vineyard, where they would review that day’s lesson while they helped with the season’s outdoor chores. The youngest boys needed to spend every waking hour learning Talmud with Meir if they were to follow the advanced lessons once the Hot Fair opened.

Judah had no viticulture skills, but he still accompanied Miriam and the others to the vineyard. Today, reluctant to expose himself to further chastisement on the subject of
niddah
, he remained behind. In the salon he could hear Meir and the boys finishing the ninth chapter of Tractate Berachot. He stepped closer to listen.

Many of the boys were grinning, and as they continued discussing behavior in the privy, they read each line with increasing mirth.

Meir was sure he would burst out laughing when he noticed Judah listening. “You’re just in time. There’s a teaching from your old friend, Ben Azzai, in this section. If you can teach it, I’ll go work in the vineyard.”

Before Judah could object, Meir was halfway through the courtyard. Doubled over with laughter, Meir nearly collided with Miriam coming through the gate. Francesca had easily given birth to a small but healthy baby girl, so the young midwife was in an excellent mood. But as soon as she entered the salon, she knew something was amiss. The students were smirking and giggling behind their hands.

“Judah, why aren’t you in the vineyard?”

“Meir asked me to take over for him,” Judah said. “We’re at the end of Tractate Berachot, that section about privies.”

No wonder Meir was laughing. But she wasn’t going to leave her husband in this embarrassing situation. “Wait a moment, I’ll go find Papa’s
kuntres
on Berachot.”

Judah had no time to wonder what Miriam was talking about before she laid a small, well-worn volume on the table for him to pick up. “You may find this useful.”

He thumbed through the thin manuscript quickly at first, then slowed abruptly and looked up at his wife in awe. “Mon Dieu! Papa has written a commentary on the whole tractate.”

Miriam beamed with pride. “And not only this tractate, but most of the others too. He started writing them when he was a student, so he wouldn’t forget his teachers’ explanations.”

Judah was so eager to read Salomon’s
kuntres
that he almost asked Miriam to teach the class. But instead, he turned to the pamphlet’s end and found the page they were on. He scanned Salomon’s explanations and, full of confidence, stood up to teach a room full of rowdy thirteen-year-old boys what the Talmud said about defecation.

Judah quoted the text and then gave Salomon’s explanation. “This means that he may relieve himself if others are nearby, but only if they can neither see nor hear him; while in a field he must move out of sight.”

“Is a lower sneeze what I think it is?” The other boys snickered as the questioner farted loudly.

“I have confidence that you can all ascertain what the Gemara means by a ‘lower sneeze.’ Any other questions?”

The students didn’t know what to make of Judah, who neither cracked a smile nor grew angry at their silliness. In fact, Judah was so engrossed in Salomon’s
kuntres
that nothing could disturb his equanimity.

“Now here’s a saying of Ben Azzai’s that concerns how one may use a piece of wood to relieve constipation.”

Sure this next passage would have the class in stitches, Judah steeled himself to recite it with aplomb.

Judah sighed as the boys burst out laughing. There was no point asking for suggested meanings. But Salomon’s commentary explained it. “This means that anyone so immodest as to expose himself first will bring down evil forces upon him, even from so far away as Sepharad.”

Once the students made the connection between immodest behavior and evil spells, Judah was able to finish Ben Azzai’s text without any of them giggling.

Judah nodded in approval as his students recited the protective words with great care. “Rabbenu Salomon writes that
Tachim
and
Tachtim
are two evil spells that sorcerers cast using excrement.” He waited in vain for questions.

“Since you don’t have any questions for me, I have one for you,” he said. “What have you learned from this text?”

“How to cure constipation?” one boy suggested irreverently.

“An incantation to protect us in the privy,” another promptly responded, scowling at his fellow’s comment.

“Those are both good, practical answers. But what about our relationship with our Creator?” Judah took in the blank looks facing him and realized he’d have to explain it himself. “A man should behave modestly even when no one can see him. This is how the Holy One, blessed be He, judges us, on how we behave when we’re alone, even during such mundane activities as using the privy.”

Pleased with the lesson, Judah dispersed the boys to study the text with their partners, warning them to pronounce the words properly. With his father-in-law’s commentaries, maybe teaching the boys wouldn’t be difficult. He remembered how Salomon explained the beginning of chapter four of Pirke Avot.

This means learning from those who are lesser than him; both lesser in age and lesser in knowledge.”

Judah was still immersed in Salomon’s
kuntres
when a woman arrived and announced that she was prepared to pay for the wine she had bought earlier. He called for Miriam just as Salomon and the rest of the household came back from the vineyard.

“Here’s the money I owe you.” The woman laid a heavy purse in Salomon’s hand. “Now I’d like my ring back.”

He stared at her in confusion. “What ring?”

“The emerald ring that I left with your daughter as security for the transaction.” She looked directly at Rachel.

Miriam watched with apprehension as Rachel grew pale with fright. Frantically checking her chemise sleeves and finding nothing, she dashed upstairs, Joheved and Miriam in her wake.

“Mon Dieu. Please let me find it.” Rachel was crying now as she tore around the room, searching through the chests and then among the rushes on the floor. “That lady’s ring. I tied it in my sleeve and now it’s gone!”

The three of them continued to search the room until Rivka came upstairs. It was obvious by their mother’s fury that she had been told the whole story, and the verbal assault she launched on Rachel made Miriam cringe.

“Now get downstairs, you irresponsible child.” Rivka eventually finished her vituperation. “And help your father sort out this disaster.”

If Rachel had hoped for private mortification, she was horrified to find that the entire student body was crowded into the salon, curious to see how their rosh yeshiva was going to handle the situation.

The lady merchant was still there, scowling fiercely. “You careless little idiot,” she burst out when she saw Rachel on the stairs. “You lost my lucky emerald ring, the one my mother gave me when I got married. Why didn’t you give it to an adult right away?” She continued muttering to herself, “Who would have guessed that this girl could look so mature and not even be twelve years old?”

Everyone staring at her, Rachel gulped out her tearful apology. “I’m sorry, Papa. I meant to give you the ring, but it was just before Miriam’s wedding and with all the excitement ... I forgot.”

“There’s no point looking for it any longer,” Rivka conceded bitterly after the students spent a good hour sifting through the rushes downstairs. “That was over a month ago; it could have fallen out anyplace.”

“The ring that this woman deposited with Rachel is obviously lost, without hope of recovery.” Salomon spoke solemnly, as if he were a judge on the
beit din
. He motioned to Meir, Judah, and Shemayah to come closer, and they consulted briefly. “Legally, I am not responsible for any loss caused by my young daughter, who is still a minor.”

The woman began to object, and Salomon silenced her by continuing loudly, “However, since you sustained a loss through a member of my household, I shall reimburse the market value of your ring, but not any additional value you may have attached to it for sentimental reasons.”

“But will you accept my word as to the ring’s value?” The woman’s eyebrows rose skeptically.

“You and my daughter will accompany me to Avram the goldsmith, each describe the ring, and there we will establish its worth,” Salomon said. And there he would pawn his sapphire ring to get the money to pay for it.

“Let my father go with you,” Eliezer said unexpectedly. “He has several emeralds with him, and if one of them is about the same size as the one Rachel lost, it will be easier to determine its cost.”