Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (60 page)

Once the Cold Fair ended, despite his dread of discovery, he was increasingly tempted to put his arm around Aaron’s shoulders or to press his thigh against Aaron’s while they were studying. And Aaron was finding excuses for his body to touch Judah’s. More and more, Judah caught himself gazing at Aaron’s face instead of concentrating on the text before them.

When the twin funerals in Ramerupt and mourning with Meir’s family did nothing to dampen his emotions, Judah feared that his downfall was coming, that he would sin with Aaron or somebody would denounce them, or both. But Judah’s apprehension reached new heights when Salomon approached him privately.

“I need to talk with you.” Salomon’s face was an unreadable mask. “About Aaron.”

Judah said nothing as he followed Salomon upstairs, but his heart was pounding
. Who had found them out and exposed them?

“A rosh yeshiva has more responsibilities to his students than educating them in Torah,” Salomon said, shutting the bedroom door behind them. “One of them is being aware of potentially improper relationships and intervening if necessary. Students have strong
yetzers
, and with the intimacy of a study-partner relationship, this can make them vulnerable.”

“True,” Judah said, trying to hide his growing panic.

“It is also common for students to become infatuated with their teachers; especially our most enthusiastic pupils,” Salomon said. “The attachment usually runs its course without incident, as did Elisha’s love for you.”

Judah nearly choked.
How many others know about Elisha’s feelings for me?

Salomon shook his head sadly. “But when a teacher returns a student’s affection, that presents a problem.” He stroked his beard and hesitated. “Do you think you’ve become too fond of your friend Aaron? He clearly cares a great deal for you.”

Judah tried desperately to think of something, anything, he could say to defend himself. He wanted to scream a denial, protest his innocence, but that would mean lying to Salomon.

He sighed in resignation. “My
yetzer hara
is aroused by men as well as by women.” Judah included both even though it wasn’t women causing him trouble.

“And?” Salomon waited.

Judah took a deep breath. “And by my study partner.”
There, I’ve admitted it. Now comes my punishment.

Salomon sighed. Aaron being attracted to Judah was understandable. But Judah was no hot-blooded youth; he was almost thirty, and married. “You’ve been able to control your
yetzer hara
so far?”

Judah nodded, his eyes lowered with shame. “I’ve been using the bed with my wife more often. But Miriam’s condition will soon preclude this solution.”

“Let me remind you of Abaye’s problem with his
yetzer hara
, from Tractate Sukkot,” Salomon said.

That his teacher was neither angry nor ashamed of him, and even considered him capable of greatness, only made Judah feel more unworthy. “I don’t know what to do. Help me.”

Salomon remembered a conversation he’d had years ago with the monk Robert. It was during those depressing early days when he had almost envied the monks, men able to devote themselves fully to holy matters instead of supporting a family.

“Doesn’t your vow of chastity bother you?” he had asked. “The Holy One created us with strong urges, so we will marry and have children.”

“I have chosen to be holy in both body and soul, to forgo carnal pleasures in exchange for spiritual ones,” Robert replied. “For as Eve corrupted Adam, the lust women inspire lures men to imperil their immortal souls.”

“But what about the lust that men inspire in each other?” Salomon responded, aware of the many songs and jokes about lecherous monks and novices.

“That’s why we have St. Benedict’s rule to avoid favorites. But when that is not possible, the two are exhorted to take their mutual ardor and turn it toward love of God . . .”

As if reading his thoughts, Judah burst out, “We’ve tried to channel our passion for each other into passion for Torah study.” He could see that Salomon was about to speak and quickly added, “Aaron shouldn’t have to stop his studies here because of my
yetzer hara
.”

Thinking about Robert gave Salomon an idea. “Before we even think about Aaron leaving Troyes, I want you to consult Guy de Dampierre.”

“The canon at the cathedral school? You want me to confide in one of the Notzrim?”

“
Oui
. Notzrim expect their monks and canons to spend their lives studying with other men, yet remain unmarried.”

Salomon watched sadly as Judah closed the door behind him. Ah, the greater the scholar, the greater his
yetzer hara
. If only Judah could restrain himself with Aaron until Yom Kippur, surely this infatuation would fade with time.

W
ith great trepidation, Judah left the next afternoon to meet with Guy at Pierre’s Cave, a tavern near the cathedral. As soon as Judah opened the door, he knew it was a place frequented by men who played the game. Their stares displayed more than casual curiosity and there wasn’t a woman in sight. Judah turned to walk out, but Guy waved to him from a corner table.

“Why did you pick this tavern?” It was bad enough that Salomon expected him to reveal his most shameful secret to this stranger, but to meet in such a place . . .

“I needed to see your reaction,” Guy said as Judah reluctantly took his seat. “You recognized the type of men who frequent this tavern, yet you ignored their interest in you. So you are no innocent, but neither are you attracted to those who want a meaningless tryst.”

“Salomon told you about me.”

“
Oui
. And also that he has great confidence in you.”

Judah didn’t want to tell his story again, he wanted answers. “So what did you do the first time you felt carnal desire for another student?”

Guy smiled. “Nothing. Nothing that is, except think lustful thoughts and wallow in guilt.”

Judah couldn’t help but smile back. “How did it end?”

“Eventually I was distracted by someone new, a woman I think.”

“Women don’t distract me. I enjoy lying with my wife, but it doesn’t make me desire my friend any less.”

“No reason why it should,” Guy said amicably. “Desire is not ours to command. Some we are attracted to against our will, while toward others we can never experience it.”

“But lying with men is a sin.”

“For us, lying with anyone we’re not married to is a sin.”

“I thought clergy didn’t marry.”

“That’s what Pope Gregory wants, which is causing great turmoil in the Church.” Guy shook his head. “Some clerics do marry, and they complain that they are vilified while sodomite priests suffer few penalties. Certainly some of the reformers are Ganymedes who rush to remove the married clergy because they themselves have no interest in the pleasures of women.”

“Ganymedes?”

Guy looked at Judah in surprise. “You aren’t familiar with the Roman gods?”

“Of course not.”

“But you do know the names of the planets?”

When Judah nodded, Guy continued, “According to the Roman pagans, some of their gods are the seven planets.”

“That’s probably why we call idolatry
avodah zarah
, ‘worshipping the stars,’ ” Judah said.

“The king of the Roman gods is Jupiter, and one of their legends has him carrying off a beautiful prince named Ganymede. The two loved each other so passionately that Jupiter set Ganymede in the heavens to be his cupbearer for eternity.”

“Thus men who love each other are Ganymedes?”

“It’s better than being called a sodomite,” Guy said. “Not that all Ganymedes are sodomites. Some men, particularly those in monasteries, manage to love each other without sinning. They are blessed to enjoy a spiritual friendship that is more intimate and passionate than any carnal relationship.”

“How do they resist sinning?” Judah asked.

“The best way to avoid temptation is to never be alone together.”

“What about using your love for each other to serve God?”

Guy sighed with nostalgia. “It is a great consolation to be so united that you join heart with heart, soul with soul, so that the sweetness of the Holy Spirit flows over you.”

Judah also sighed. Studying Talmud with Aaron felt like that sometimes, but his
yetzer hara
interfered too often now.

As if reading his thoughts, Guy continued, “But Satan is just waiting to trap you, so, to be safe, always study with other people around. And never go out drinking together.”

Judah looked up in alarm.
How can I avoid drinking with Aaron at Purim?

“That was my downfall. We were studying at a tavern much like this one, drinking and touching each other under the table. Before I knew it, we were in a room together upstairs.”

“What happened?”

“Of course, it was common knowledge the next day. I was so mortified that I left school for another town,” Guy said. “Which reminds me, if you realize Satan has won and you’re going to sin, at least be discreet.”

“The Talmudic Sages teach us the same thing,” Judah said.

“Your Sages are wise men,” said Guy.

“How long does this love usually last?”

“A year or two at most. If you can avoid sinning that long, your love can resolve into a great friendship.” Guy paused and smiled. “It’s been over ten years now that Bonidoine, Countess Adelaide’s chaplain, and I have been the closest of confidants.”

“And what if you do sin; can the friendship survive?” Judah’s stomach knotted with fear.

“That depends on several things,” Guy replied. “How guilty you each feel, if one wanted to continue sinning and the other didn’t, and if the sin was kept secret or not.”

The tavern was growing crowded as men stopped in after work. “I’ve got to go,” Judah said. “I thank you for your good advice.”

“Here’s another piece of advice, one I usually offer to Christian clergy,” Guy said as they walked up the stairs. “Confession can be powerful if you truly wish to avoid sin.”

On his way home, Judah mulled over Guy’s words. Confession was powerful for Jews too, but Judah’s daily confession to the Holy One had clearly lost its effectiveness. Admitting his guilt to Papa hadn’t helped conquer his desire to sin either. But he had to do something. He was lucky that thus far only Papa had found him out; next time it wouldn’t be someone so sympathetic.

Confess to Miriam, his
yetzer tov
urged him, and his blood ran cold at the idea. She would be as ashamed as he was, perhaps more, and she would be hurt. He hadn’t made her cry since their wedding night and Heaven forbid he should repeat the experience.

Worse yet—she would probably be angry. What if she demanded a divorce?

 

As Purim loomed ever closer, Judah’s compulsion to confess to Miriam only grew, but he could never find the right moment. He didn’t want to upset her when she wasn’t feeling well, but that seemed to be almost all the time. Yet he had to tell her before it was too late.

Aaron was pushing for them to go to the bathhouse together, and each time Judah found it more difficult to decline. Several times a day Aaron put his hand on Judah’s thigh, and when Judah, sometimes with some delay, pulled that hand away, Aaron would smile and squeeze his hand in return. And despite it being completely foreign to his temperament, Judah let Aaron talk him into performing a Purim parody together in front of the community while wearing identical costumes.

But when Aaron began teasing him about how the two of them would enjoy themselves so much on Purim that they’d have to be careful not to get too drunk or otherwise they wouldn’t remember what happened—Judah decided to confess that night.

“Miriam, I need to speak with you,” Judah said after she put their sons to bed. “It’s important.”

She followed him into their room and lay down while he paced back and forth. She was so tired. Hopefully Judah’s talk wouldn’t take long. He certainly seemed nervous.

Judah sat down on the bed. “Lately I’ve been worried . . .” He hesitated and then stood up.

“What’s the matter?” she asked as he paced the room again. He must be anxious about their children getting the pox. Several families they knew had lost children already. Maybe they should send the boys to Ramerupt before Purim?

Judah took a deep breath. “I’m worried about Aaron.”

“Why? Aaron looks fine to me.”

“I’m worried about
me
and Aaron, about what I feel for him.”

A knot of fear began to form in Miriam’s belly, making her nausea even worse. “What do you mean?”

Judah sat down on the bed again, but he couldn’t look at her. “Forgive me, but I’ve become too fond of Aaron . . . so fond that I’ve begun to feel a carnal attraction toward him.”

Before she could stop them, tears were flowing down Miriam’s cheeks.

“But we haven’t done anything carnal.” He grabbed her hand. “I swear it.”
Why did I have to tell her? I knew this was going to happen.

She only wept harder. “I know Talmud study excites you. If I had offered to overturn the table with you, then maybe I could have satisfied your needs and you wouldn’t want a man.”