Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel (27 page)

He turned to Joheved and blinked back tears. “Is this truly what you wish of me?”

If Joheved felt any sympathy for Milo, she hid it well. “I command you to make no visible effort to gain my love,” she said sternly. “And indeed to give all appearances of having lost your love for me.”

“What you ask is a heavy burden; yet I will bear it patiently and obey.”

Rachel held her breath, hoping against hope that Joheved would show some sign of fondness for Milo, something that would give him the strength to keep his promise. And her sister surpassed her expectations.

“In gratitude for your excellent service,” Joheved extended her arm, “you may kiss my hand.”

Milo dropped to his knees and took her hand in his. Perhaps his lips lingered on her palm a trifle too long, but for the most part he acted as if he’d been asked to kiss any other noble lady’s hand. He didn’t react at all when Joheved gently squeezed his hand in return.

fifteen

Eliezer was determined to talk to Meir before he left for Picardy. His brother-in-law was more distracted than ever now that Milo had returned, but Eliezer was sure he had a cure for Meir’s distress—if only the man would confide in him.

Luckily the evening study sessions grew longer as the Hot Fair came to a close, and one night Eliezer suggested they stop at a tavern on the way home.

“What’s the point in hurrying home to our empty beds?” He poured Meir some ale.

Meir drank it in one long gulp and looked forlornly at the empty cup. “My bed may be empty, but I wonder if my wife’s is.”

Eliezer refilled Meir’s cup. This was going to be easy. “Neither of our wives sleeps in an empty bed tonight.” He smiled at Meir’s confusion. “They are surely sharing a bed together in Ramerupt.”

“Your wife is so beautiful and you’re away so much. Don’t you worry about her?”

“About her taking a lover? Never,” Eliezer lied.

“Never?” Meir looked doubtful.

“And not just because my wife is a pious, God-fearing woman.” Eliezer leaned forward and whispered, “I keep her so happy in bed that I know she will never desire another man.”

“I used to feel that way when I was younger, but I’m almost forty. Now I have to worry about men half my age.”

“Your new steward?”

Meir nodded glumly and shared the advice that Salomon had given him. Had that been Rabbi Meir’s fear? That he’d grown too old to satisfy Beruria?

“Our father-in-law is a wise man, but not, I think, in the ways of giving women pleasure.” Eliezer gave Meir a wicked grin. “I can teach you things that aren’t in Tractate Kallah. And once Joheved experiences them, you can be sure she’ll never even think about another man.”

 

The new rams proved so vigorous with the ewes that Joheved told her daughters that the old one would be slaughtered. With so many people celebrating the New Year at Salomon’s, it would take a large animal to feed them all.

“Are we going to eat the ram’s head, Mama?” Leah asked.

“It’s good luck to eat the head of an animal: its
rosh
at Rosh Hashanah,” Joheved replied.

“And we eat sheep to remember the sacrifice of Isaac, which the Holy One prevented by sending a ram in Isaac’s place.” Hannah scolded her little sister. “Don’t you remember reading that part of Torah on the second day?”

“I know very well that we read about Abraham and Isaac on the second day of Rosh Hashanah and about Hagar and Ishmael on the first,” Leah said. “Just as I know that we eat lamb on Rosh Hashanah and chicken for Yom Kippur. I just wanted to know if we’re going to eat the whole head, with the horns attached.”

Joheved paused to think. They hadn’t cooked a ram in years. “It would look impressive, wouldn’t it?” The old ram had long and curvy horns.

“But won’t cooking the horn ruin it as a shofar?” Hannah asked anxiously.

“What do we need another shofar for? We have plenty,” Leah said. “And Papa blows the same old one every year.”

“You’re right, Hannah, cooking might ruin it as a shofar. But we could cook the head without them and then tie them on when we serve it.” Joheved turned to her younger daughter. “Someday your brothers and cousins will want their own, Leah.”

“Can I have one, Mama?” Hannah’s voice was timid. “Please.” Joheved gulped and gazed into her daughter’s pleading eyes, brown like Meir’s rather than blue like her own (much to his disappointment). Hannah was now taller than she was; when did that happen? Joheved surreptitiously surveyed her daughters. Although their similar features marked them as sisters, Leah was still a child while Hannah was on the verge of womanhood.

“Why do you want a shofar?”

“To blow it,” Hannah whispered.

“You should hear her, Mama,” Leah said. “She blows it really loud. Not like Shmuel, who always makes it sound like he’s blowing his nose. She’s even better than Papa.”

Hannah shot her sister a look that should have silenced her, but Leah continued, “She is. I’ve heard her lots of times.”

Joheved took in the shock and fear on Hannah’s face, and was transported back in time to the moment when her mother had caught her wearing Papa’s tefillin. She had been in her twelfth year, the same age as Hannah. She shook her head in resignation.

“Since it’s Elul and your father isn’t here today to blow the shofar, do you think you could blow it for us?”

Hannah remained rooted to the spot, so Joheved headed toward a storage cabinet in the main hall. “Do you prefer one in particular or do you blow them all?” She beckoned her daughter to follow.

When Hannah remained silent, Leah answered for her. “She blows all of them. Each one sounds different.”

“How about this one?” Joheved selected a shofar at random.

Joheved wasn’t sure Hannah would take it, but eventually her daughter grasped the ram’s horn, holding it as if it were full of liquid that might spill. Leah hopped excitedly from one foot to the other as they waited for Hannah to slowly raise the shofar to her mouth. Joheved held her breath and prayed:
Please, mon Dieu, let her make a clear, strong sound.

The noise was tentative at first, a cough followed by a sputter. Then Hannah took a deep breath and tried again. This time the shofar blasted a clarion call that echoed from the rafters, a clear, sweet tone that brought tears to Joheved’s eyes.

Servants poured out of the kitchen, looking around wildly for the sound’s source. Milo bolted through the front door and walked swiftly to Joheved’s side. “What was that?”

Before she could answer, Rachel called from the stairs. “That was amazing. I didn’t know you could blow the shofar, Joheved.”

“I can’t. It was Hannah.”

“Blow it again,” Rachel demanded.

Leah raced to the cabinet and returned with a longer ram’s horn. “Blow this one.”

The roomful of people exhaled in awe as another perfect note, deeper than the first, sounded and then slowly faded away.

“Go get the others, Leah.” Rachel’s eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Let’s hear them all.”

Hannah looked questioningly at Joheved, who smiled and nodded at Leah, already halfway to the cabinet. Each new shofar tone drew soft oohs and aahs from Hannah’s audience, until Milo finally waved the servants toward the doors and declared, “Everyone return to your work. The entertainment is finished.”

Joheved gave Hannah a big hug. “Whichever shofar you want, it is yours. Even one of the new ones.”

“I can’t wait for Meir and Papa to hear her,” Rachel said.

“She’s better than anyone else in our family.”

“Hannah should blow it in synagogue.” Leah clapped her hands with excitement.

“Only a man may blow the shofar in synagogue.” Joheved’s voice was emotionless.

Leah’s face fell. “But why, Mama? She’s better than the man who blows it there.”

“
Oui
, Joheved,” Rachel said with a saucy grin. “Tell her why?”

It was Hannah who answered her sister. “Don’t you remember the Mishnah we studied? Where it says that women, children and slaves are exempt from the mitzvah of shofar?”

“But it says that children can blow it, to practice,” Leah protested.

“Only boy children, because they will have to fulfill the commandment when they grow up.” Joheved looked at Rachel, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe we can study what else the Talmud says about the commandments women are exempt from.”

Rachel returned Joheved’s smile. “What section did you have in mind?” There were several such discussions.

“Let’s go to the source and study Tractate Kiddushin.”

“Do you think your daughters are ready for such a complicated
sugia
?”

“Please, Mama, let us study Gemara with you and Aunt Rachel.” Hannah tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “We’re ready.”

“Miriam and I were about that age when Papa started teaching us, and it was hard,” Joheved said. “But the girls can probably follow along if you and I study it together.”

“I learned it years ago with Eliezer, but I think I can remember what Papa’s
kuntres
says.” Rachel nodded. “It will be interesting, and different, to study this with a woman.”

“You won’t need to remember Papa’s
kuntres
. I have a copy,” Joheved said proudly. “He gave it to me when I moved to Ramerupt so I wouldn’t forget my learning.”

“Let’s start by reviewing the seventh Mishnah of the first chapter,” Rachel said, her eyes shining with eagerness.

She turned to her nieces. “What questions do you have about this Mishnah?”

Hannah’s hand shot up. “The Torah never mentions such a thing as time-bound positive mitzvot. So why should women be exempt from them?”

She was about to say more when Rachel stopped her. “Let Leah ask her question too.”

“What is a time-bound positive mitzvah anyway?”

“Very good, Leah. That is the very first question our Rabbis asked,” Joheved replied. “A time-bound positive mitzvah is one that must be done at a specific time. For instance . . .” She waited for her daughters to give examples.

“Blowing the shofar,” Hannah said immediately. “We blow it at Rosh Hashanah. And sitting in the sukkah, and lighting the Hanukkah menorah—”

“Every mitzvah we do at holidays,” Leah interrupted.

“But women aren’t exempt from Passover,” Rachel pointed out. “Or Shabbat for that matter.” How would her nieces react to the contradiction?

The girls looked uncertain, and Joheved opened her father’s
kuntres
. “Let’s see how the Gemara answers your questions. Rachel and I will read it, but stop us if you have questions.” She smiled at Leah. “See, the first thing here is your question:

“But tefillin aren’t worn at any specific time,” Hannah objected.

“Tefillin are only worn in the daytime,” Rachel explained. “So they are considered time bound.” When the girls nodded, albeit unenthusiastically, she said, “Now we’ll see that the Gemara finds a problem with this:

“In fact there are more time-bound positive mitzvot that women must perform today—eating matzah and drinking four cups of wine on Pesach, reading the Megillah at Purim, lighting the Hanukkah lamp, and observing Shabbat—than those we’re exempt from,” Rachel declared with a smile, recalling how vigorously she and Eliezer had debated this
sugia
.

“So how can it be a rule that women are exempt from them?” Leah asked.

Joheved showed them what Salomon had written: “Though the Mishnah teaches that women are generally exempt from time-bound positive mitzvot and obligated to perform those that are not time bound, it did not intend to make this law absolute.”

Rachel nodded. “Now the Gemara is going to ask your question, Hannah.

Rachel chuckled as both nieces started to object. “I see you have important questions, but let’s finish the passage first.

“We know this because the verse in Deuteronomy commanding men to teach their sons,
benaichem
, Torah, but not their daughters, is immediately followed by the verse about tefillin. So our Sages link them.”

“Grandpapa says that we have to translate
benaichem
as sons and not children,” Hannah said bitterly. “But it’s not fair. Not only are we exempt from studying Torah, we’re exempt from all these other mitzvot too.”

“Just because you’re exempt doesn’t mean you can’t do them.” Joheved tried to sound encouraging. “You’re just not obligated to do them.”

“Wait until we read further, Hannah,” Rachel said. “You’ll see that the Gemara tries very hard to make women obligated for time-bound positive mitzvot.”

Sure enough, the next Sage rejected the Torah study/tefillin connection and argued that tefillin could just as well be compared to mezuzah, since the verse about mezuzah immediately follows the one about tefillin.

“That would make women obligated for tefillin like they’re obligated for mezuzah,” Hannah said triumphantly.

“Or it might make a woman exempt from mezuzah, and maybe all positive commandments,” Rachel suggested, curious how her nieces would react to this disturbing idea.