Rashi's Daughters, Book II: Miriam (34 page)

“Is it true about Obadiah?” Johanna asked the women. Avram the mohel was there, but not his son.

Francesca motioned them to come closer. “Moses told me that he burned himself very badly,” she whispered. “He may lose his hand.”

“What happened?” Joheved asked.

The circle of women looked at each other, each waiting for someone who knew more to speak. Finally Francesca answered, “I’m not sure of the details, but I heard there was an accident at the shop ... some molten metal spilled on him.”

Their conversation stilled as the crowd divided to make space in front of Miriam for Judah to join her. When he handed Yom Tov to Moses haCohen and began explaining that this was his son, the firstborn of his mother’s womb, Miriam couldn’t help but think about how her life had changed. Of course motherhood changed every woman’s life, but this was different.

When Benjamin died, Miriam was convinced that her ability to love again had died with him. Judah was a fine husband, and she felt a good deal of affection toward him, but it wasn’t the passion she’d had for Benjamin. Yet in only a month, Yom Tov had kindled a love in her that frightened her with its intensity.

Judah was counting out five deniers. “I claim my firstborn son; here are your five silver shekels,” Judah said as he gave the coins to Moses. Then he handed Yom Tov to Miriam.

It was her turn to speak. “This is my firstborn son, for the Holy One, Blessed be He, opened the doors of my womb with him.” Miriam continued, with Judah joining her, “Just as our firstborn merited redemption, so may he merit Torah, marriage, and good deeds.
Baruch ata Adonai
... Who sanctifies the firstborn of Israel in their redemptions.”

Miriam sighed with relief once Yom Tov was back in her arms, and she thought of the biblical Hannah. The prophet Samuel was Hannah’s firstborn, and she had given him to the priests when he was weaned.
How could Hannah do it?
Miriam would die rather than let anyone take Yom Tov from her. Moreover, she knew she would fight, even kill if necessary, to protect him from harm.

 

By late afternoon most of the guests, including Alvina, had gone to the fair. Papa and Avram were deep in conversation under the apple tree, surrounded by Papa’s students. Miriam began to help her mother and sisters clean up, but Aunt Sarah shooed her toward the house.

“You’ve had a long day,” Sarah told her. “You should take a nap before
souper
.”

Mama and Joheved agreed, but no sooner had Miriam reached Sarah’s door than Papa waved her to join him.

“We have an important matter to discuss,” he said. “And I want to hear from our midwives.”

The men made room for her to sit down, and then looked at Avram expectantly.

“As many of you know,” Avram’s voice trembled with emotion, “Obadiah was seriously injured recently. Moses says my son will probably not lose his hand, but ...” Avram paused to wipe away a tear. “But the hot metal burned him in such a way that ...”

When Salomon saw that Avram was too overcome to speak, he continued, “Obadiah may be able to work as a goldsmith when he recovers his health, but he will never function as a mohel.”

“So I must train a new apprentice,” Avram said.

Miriam stifled a yawn. Why did they need her presence? Obviously one of Papa’s students must take Obadiah’s place.

“But who?” Salomon asked. “The mohel must be someone who is here in Troyes all the year, which excludes most merchants.”

“He must be pious and learned in Jewish Law,” Judah added. “Especially the laws dealing with circumcision.”

“And he must be young,” Joheved said. “Otherwise Papa would make an excellent mohel, he’s so good with knives.”

“That excludes me,” Meir said with a sigh. “Even with more than ten years of practice, I can barely slaughter lambs or prune grapevines without injuring myself.”

“True, those things are important.” Avram’s voice regained its strength. “But it is imperative that my new apprentice appreciate the gravity and delicacy of the
milah
procedure. He will be performing a vital mitzvah, one that cannot be delayed or interrupted.”

“Can you do it, Judah?” Miriam asked.

“Just the thought of cutting down there upsets me.” He shuddered. “I almost fainted during Yom Tov’s
brit milah
.”

Avram shook his head. “If a man cannot manage the necessary
kavanah
, he should not accept the position.”

Miriam caught a glimpse of Shemayah, who looked like he was about to cry. Of course nobody suggested him as a candidate, a man whose son had bled to death after the
brit
, whose future sons could never be circumcised.

“What about one of our younger students, perhaps Eliezer?” Rivka asked.

“I’ve already talked to his father, as well as several others,” Avram said. “They all say they may need their sons to help them with their business one day.”

“But we must have a mohel in Troyes,” Meir said, his voice rising with each word. “We won’t be able to circumcise on the eighth day if we have to send to Paris for one.”

Sarah and Salomon were exchanging meaningful glances, and Sarah coughed gently to get everyone’s attention. “So far you’ve all been talking about a ‘he.’ But in Mayence there was a woman who did circumcisions, a midwife colleague of mine.”

Everyone turned to stare at Miriam. As she gazed from one face to another, her heart began to pound and she swallowed nervously.

“Of course.” Joheved broke into a smile. “Miriam would be perfect. She meets every condition.”

“Not every condition,” Avram said with a scowl. “She is a woman, which means that she is exempt from the mitzvah of
milah
and therefore cannot perform it on behalf of someone who is obligated.”

“The Mishnah in Kiddushin does exempt mothers from those mitzvot that fathers are obligated to perform for their sons, such as
brit milah
and
pidyon ha-ben
,” Joheved responded. “Yet when a father appoints an agent to do the circumcision for him, he is considered to have performed the mitzvah of
milah
himself. Thus it shouldn’t matter who the agent is.”

Miriam couldn’t remain silent. “In Tractate Avoda Zarah, we have a Baraita that says:

Joheved further supported Miriam. “In the same tractate, Rav Yohanan and Rav disagree about women doing
milah
:

Miriam smiled triumphantly at Joheved and continued, “And their debate ends when the Gemara asks:

Meir and Judah sat quietly while their wives refuted Avram’s objection, but their eyes betrayed their pride and pleasure. Salomon seemed to be enjoying himself as well, because he waited until his daughters finished before turning to Avram.

“The law is clear that when no competent man is available, a woman is fit to circumcise, in accordance with Rav Yohanan.”

Shemayah coughed softly. “Just because Jewish Law holds Miriam fit, it doesn’t mean that men in Troyes will allow her to circumcise their sons. I’m afraid some of them will be quite angry. Do you want to antagonize the community over this?”

“If the men of Troyes get so upset, then let one of them send his son to be Avram’s apprentice,” Judah said. It was clear how unlikely he considered this possibility.

“Since there is no alternative, I will train her.” Avram looked like he had tasted something rotten and wanted to spit it out. “At least until I can find a male apprentice.”

Salomon turned to Miriam. “We know that you are permitted to circumcise, and that Avram is willing to teach you, but we don’t know if you want to be a
mohelet
.” He smiled gently as he used the feminine form of the word.

Did she want to? It would be difficult with such a reluctant teacher. And what about Obadiah, who would surely resent her taking his place? Shemayah had a point; many in the community, both men and women, would object to a woman doing circumcisions. How would she endure their disapproval?

But
milah
was a vital mitzvah and no male was available. If she didn’t agree then one day there would be no mohel in Troyes. Who would circumcise her sons, her nephews?
Mon Dieu, I would have to circumcise my own sons.

Judah observed her hesitation. “You shouldn’t do it unless you know you’ll have the proper
kavanah,
” he said. “But you don’t have to decide now. Consider it for a while.”

“Judah is right,” Salomon said. “Don’t decide today. But I think you’d make an excellent
mohelet
. You’re the only mother I’ve ever seen who didn’t close her eyes at her son’s
brit
. You were watching the whole time.”

And if she became Avram’s apprentice, Miriam realized, everyone in town would be watching her. It would be very different from studying Talmud or wearing tefillin.

M
iriam smiled down on the baby at her breast. It would be dawn soon—her favorite time of day. Everything was quiet and peaceful, Judah curled up in bed next to her and Yom Tov, may the Holy One protect him, asleep like a little angel in his trundle bed. How silly she’d been to worry about loving Yom Tov so much that there wouldn’t be enough left for his baby brother.

This birth had been even easier than Yom Tov’s. She recognized the phantom urge to defecate, and her new son was born before the bells of Troyes had a chance to toll twice. But the pregnancy was harder, with nausea lasting for months. She had been too ill to attend Johanna’s funeral.

She still felt guilty about that. Could she or Aunt Sarah have helped Johanna if they’d known about her pregnancy earlier? Moses haCohen insisted that diabetes was nearly impossible to cure and that Miriam should worry about her own condition. Thank Heaven her health finally improved in midwinter, enabling her to continue her
mohelet
training.

Miriam sighed. Avram was a diligent teacher, and she was learning a great deal from him, but at every
brit
he announced that he was looking for an apprentice, should anyone know a capable boy who might be interested. For the first year she too hoped that he would find a replacement. Watching circumcisions up close was fascinating, but she couldn’t ignore the shocked and angry expressions on people’s faces when she followed after Avram carrying the mohel’s supplies.

He admitted that she knew sufficient Talmud and that they would concentrate on the practical aspects of
milah
. The first thing he showed her was how to sew the special linen bandage, the
haluk
. It was shaped like a finger with both ends open, and once the seam was tied off, the
haluk
was turned inside out so its smooth side would face the baby’s skin. No loose threads were permitted; even a tiny thread might stick to the wound. Thanks to years of embroidery done under Mama’s exacting standards, she was off to an auspicious start.

Sharpening the two-sided
azmil
was similar to preparing the knife she used to cut the baby’s cord. Crushing cumin and mixing it with olive oil was simple for a midwife who used the same healing salve to seal the cord. But none of these, while essential to a safe
milah
, involved touching the baby, which Miriam increasingly wanted to do.

It was two years before she reached that goal. Two years of scrutinizing every
milah
Avram did, two years of making his
haluks
and salves, two years of checking on the babies three days later. It was also two years of knowing that her community was bitterly divided because of her. No one said anything to her, but she could see the faces at every
brit
, a few beaming in approval, but many more scowling with undisguised hostility. Maybe that’s why Avram waited so long before he allowed her to actually participate in the ritual.

Last spring, after asking her dozens of times how to apply the
haluk
and salve, he suddenly turned to her after a
brit
and told her to bandage the child. Apparently she did this to his satisfaction, not that he ever complimented her, because he left her to bandage all the babies after that.

He also assigned her the odious task of circumcising the male stillborns and those who died before their
brit
.

“I must warn you that this is nothing like
milah
on a living baby,” Avram told her the first time they joined those doing
tahara
, preparing an uncircumcised baby boy for burial.