Rashi’s Daughters Book I: Joheved

by Maggie Anton

  She couldn’t help but giggle at this advice.

  Salomon remained serious. “Dates and beer can cause flatulence,” he said, “and if you and your husband both relieve yourself in the same place, he may see some traces that remain and be offended.”

  Now both sisters were fighting back nervous laughter, and Joheved forced herself to recall that this was holy text. She’d better say something. “But Papa, eating herbs and dates and drinking beer…that’s only a problem at night…when they go to bed with their husbands?” She felt herself blush as he agreed.

  “Joheved,” he pointed out the text to her, “the next passage is rather important for a new bride. Why don’t you read it?”

  Your husband will hold a pearl in one hand and a kora in one hand.

  Joheved stumbled over the Aramaic word kora. She had no idea what it meant, but she continued to read. The previous verses had been easy to understand; perhaps the next one would clarify things.

  You should give him the pearl, but the kora you should not give until you both are tormented, and only then should you give it to him.

  Though she understood what every word except kora meant, the text was incomprehensible. She looked at Miriam, who shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

  Salomon knew this passage referred to a delicate subject, and he had thought carefully about how he would explain it before finally deciding that frankness was best. “Rav Hisda is using very tactful language to instruct his daughters about the role they will have in marital relations. When he says ‘pearl’ he means breast, and when he says ‘kora,’ which is best translated as ‘forge,’ he means the womb.”

  Salomon might as well be discussing any unremarkable Talmud passage.

  “You are no longer children, so I will not use euphemisms.” He cleared his throat and said very quickly, “When your husband caresses you to arouse the desire for relations, and he holds your breasts with one hand and your womb with the other, give him your breasts first to increase his passion, but do not allow him the place of intercourse too soon, until his passion increases and he is in pain with desire.”

  Both girls’ faces were flaming, but their father ignored their embarrassment and calmly asked if they had any questions. Miriam was speechless, but Joheved, equally disconcerted, felt she had to query him at least once to show she’d grasped the material.

  She forced herself to speak seriously. “Papa, why does Rav Hisda call the womb a forge?” A pearl did make a suitable symbol for the breast.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. He had never taught this text to any of his yeshiva students; they were too young. And he had only studied it once himself, just before he married Rivka. “Perhaps it is because, just as a forge refines precious metals, the womb refines the man’s seed into a child.”

  That made sense, Joheved thought. She had the feeling there was more to the text, that she should be asking other questions. But she needed time to think about it, time she didn’t have.

  That same evening in Ramerupt, Samuel was presenting a manuscript to his son. Meir opened the slim volume, titled “Tractate Kallah (Bride),” and looked at his father with surprise. He had never heard of such a tractate.

  Samuel smiled at his son’s bewilderment. “Tractate Kallah is not actually part of the Talmud; it’s additional material. Before my nisuin, my father gave me this book to copy. I gave it to your brother before his wedding, and now it’s your turn. I’m sure you will find its lessons well worth learning.”

  Meir took the mysterious volume up to his room and began reading. After the first few pages, he was blushing furiously. The author, with the intent of extolling erotic pleasure within marriage, had provided detailed and salacious descriptions of sexual techniques. No wonder this wasn’t part of the Talmud. Yet the book started out innocently.

  He should give her pleasure and embrace her and kiss her and sanctify himself with sexual intercourse. He should not use foul language and should not see in her anything contemptible, but rather arouse her with caresses and with all manner of embracing in order to fulfill his desire and hers.

  The author continued by explaining the various kinds of caresses and embracing, and in what order to use them most efficaciously. And should the reader be affronted that any of these were unnatural, a quote from Talmud (Tractate Nedarim) followed.

  The Sages say: Anything that a man wants to do with his wife, he may do, like meat that comes from a kosher butcher. If he wants it salted, he may; roasted, he may; boiled, he may; braised, he may.

  Even nonprocreative practices were permitted, if performed “once in a while, not as a habitual practice.” But it was forbidden to force his wife in the holy deed; this was sure to produce wicked and sinful children. And if a man wanted male children, he should perform the holy deed twice in a row.

  The new husband was advised to eat spicy foods to increase the flow of semen. Salty fish, strong wine, lentils, cheese, eggs and roasted garlic were also recommended. There was a section on love potions, the least complicated of which involved cutting one’s fingernails, toenails and pubic hair, burning them to a powder, and steeping this in water for nine days before serving the drink to one’s beloved.

  The manuscript continued in this eclectic fashion, combining folksy advice with licentious commentary. There was even a blessing, the Birkat Betulim, for the new husband to say after seeing his bride’s blood of virginity. Meir had never heard of such a benediction, and he kept reciting it until he had it memorized.

  Baruch ata Adonai…Who put an almond tree in the Garden of Eden, roses in the valley; let no stranger control the sealed fountain. Therefore her lover’s holy seed she keeps pure and does not break the law. Baruch ata Adonai, Who chooses Abraham and his seed to make Israel holy.

  What a strange blessing. Was he supposed to say it right after they used the bed for the first time or should he wait until the next morning when it was light? Tractate Kallah didn’t say.

  Meir was pondering this question when one of his father’s menservants knocked on the door. Samuel was taking no chances with demons. Not only would his young grandson share Meir’s bed, but a servant would sleep on the floor as well. The next night Meir’s room was more crowded. Meshullam’s family arrived, and now another nephew shared his bed.

  The day before the wedding, the house was overflowing with relatives, so when Meshullam suggested they ride together along the Aube River, which bordered the manor, Meir was eager for respite. At first they rode together in silence.

  Eventually Meshullam cleared his throat and said, “Meir, I assume Papa showed you his copy of ‘Tractate Kallah.’ Do you have any questions?”

  “Well,” Meir hesitated. He’d been trying not to think too much about Tractate Kallah. It was difficult enough to sleep already. “How do I make sure that she emits seed first?…I mean, how do I make sure I don’t emit mine first?” So far he hadn’t been very successful at controlling his yetzer hara when Joheved was around.

  Meshullam stopped to let his horse munch on a clump of grass. “Concentrate on remembering the Birkat Betulim.”

  “You mean I’m supposed to recite it that night? But how can I see any blood in the dark?”

  “You wait until morning to say it, but just thinking about it should slow you down,” Meshullam replied, giving his horse a soft kick to get her going again. “Now, remember, your bride’s passage is closed, and it will probably cause her some pain when you first open her. Some say it is best to enter quickly with a strong thrust, but I think gentleness is important, even if it is more difficult for you to control yourself.”

  Meir, recalling Salomon’s sad tale, grimaced at the idea of causing Joheved pain.

  “Don’t worry,” Meshullam’s voice was reassuring. “If you have aroused her desire sufficiently, it will only be a momentary discomfort for her.”

  “One last piece of advice, Meir.” They were approaching the manor gate. “I know we’re taught not to waste seed, but if you get too aroused reading Tractate Kallah,
you may need to. You’ll want to get a good’s night sleep tonight.”

  Meir knew his brother meant well, but his yetzer hara had never forced him to deliberately waste seed before, and he wasn’t about to start now, the night before his wedding. Besides, thus far his prenuptial anxieties had been more than enough to counter the stimulating effects of Tractate Kallah.

  eighteen

  Ramerupt

  Late Spring 4834 (1074 C.E.)

  The next morning, it seemed as though every member of Meir’s extended family came in to offer advice and good wishes while he dressed. It was just as well that the bride and groom fasted on their wedding day; he couldn’t have eaten breakfast anyway. Marona had just finished sewing closed the sleeves of his fine new linen chemise when they heard the clattering of horses and clanging of weapons in the courtyard.

  Meir ran to the open front door, where the household had assembled to watch Benjamin, Asher and several yeshiva students in mock combat with Meshullam and Meir’s cousins. He raced to get a sword and join the fray, but his mother barred his way.

  “Meir, are you crazy?” she said. “After all the work I put into your new silk côte, you want to go out there and ruin it?”

  He reluctantly replaced the weapon and waited for the ruckus to die down. It was traditional for the groom to be escorted to his wedding, “just as a king is attended by his guards.” The encounter was so likely to result in damage that Jewish law held: “If a man or horse is injured when a fellow rides to greet the bridegroom, and he pleads that he did nothing wrong, but rode normally, he is not believed, and must provide evidence.”

  Meir threw on his mantle and adjusted his ornamented hat. This was it. He mounted his horse, waved good-bye to the servants, and with great fanfare, the wedding party set off, accompanied by a wagon of musicians to provide entertainment as they made their way to Troyes.

  When they crossed the Seine and reached Bishop’s Gate, much of the Jewish community was there to meet them. Though it was broad daylight, many of the men held torches. The boisterous crowd escorted Meir to the synagogue, where morning services were in progress. Then, having done their duty for the bridegroom, the torchbearers and musicians left for Salomon’s house.

  Joheved had spent a restless night. She had been so eager for this morning to arrive, each day looking longingly at her beautiful blue silk bliaut. But yesterday, after returning from her first trip to the mikvah, reality sunk in. Tomorrow, Meir would be her husband and master. She had seen him angry once, and though he had quickly apologized, maybe he wasn’t always so contrite. And would he really approve of her studies?

  Then of course, there was another worry—their wedding night. Mama had said nothing except that when it was time, Aunt Sarah, the midwife, would tell her all she needed to know. Mama had offered the excuse of being busy with the wedding banquet, but Joheved had seen the anxiety in her mother’s eyes. What was it that Mama wouldn’t talk about?

  She knew brides were expected to bleed, but how bad would it hurt? She tried to recall how much she longed to be with Meir when they were apart, how much she enjoyed his kisses.

  But what if she wasn’t ready and he forced her? And what about Rav Hisda’s words—not offering the forge until they were both tormented? Tormented? Was she supposed to suffer before they coupled? Why hadn’t she asked Papa about this? She prayed that Meir wouldn’t cause her too much pain.

  Each new worry chased another through her mind, until she forced herself to concentrate on the prayer she’d recited earlier, before her immersion:

  “Mon Dieu, may it be Your will that Your presence dwell between my husband and me. May his thoughts always be about me, and about no other, as it is written, ‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother and cleave to his wife.’ May we be worthy to see with our own eyes children from our children who are committed to Torah and to good deeds. May You hear my prayer with mercy and great compassion. Amen.”

  She whispered it again and again, until she fell asleep.

  Too soon it was morning, and she had overslept. Everyone had already eaten when Mama entered her room, carrying the chemise for her wedding bliaut. Mama and Anna had spent hours embroidering its neck, sleeves and hem with blue flowers to match the silken côte. Behind their mother trailed Miriam and Rachel, eager to help their sister dress for her finest hour.

  While Rivka and Miriam sewed up her sleeves, Rachel brushed Joheved’s hair. Her wedding day was the last time her hair would be fully visible in public. Until the ceremony was over, she would be veiled, but afterwards everyone would see her long, unbraided hair. Just as a new mother’s hair was loosened during childbirth, it was best to have nothing constricted upon the nuptial bed. Certainly not the bride’s hair.

  The three sisters took turns admiring themselves in the shiny new wall mirror that Meir had sent as a wedding present. Joheved stared at the stranger who looked back at her so intently. How grown up she looked, dressed in her wedding finery. She took a step closer and examined her face. Meir was right; she definitely had blue eyes. But her nose was so big, and where did all those freckles come from? She glanced at Miriam and then back at the mirror. She really did look like her younger sister. Miriam’s nose was a little smaller and her face was thinner, but otherwise, they had the same visage.

  Joheved turned slightly, trying to see her profile. Nobody would call her a beauty, but at least she wasn’t homely. Look at her—such serious expression. She stuck out her tongue, struck a few poses, and then laughed aloud at her silliness. Well, she certainly looked more attractive when she smiled. At least she had nice, straight teeth.

  Miriam was reluctant to spend much time staring at herself. Compared to Joheved she was too thin, and all those days in the vineyard with Benjamin had tanned her as brown as a peasant. But she couldn’t resist making faces back at Joheved, and when Rachel joined in, the three of them nearly collapsed in giggles. After that, it was impossible to coax Rachel away from the mirror. She stared at her reflection as if transfixed, and only when they heard the musicians approaching was the mirror forgotten.

  Her heart beating furiously, Joheved climbed on the white mare and gave one last glance homeward, her gaze focusing on the window of the bedroom she would no longer share with her sisters. When she reached the synagogue entrance, Meir came forward to receive her, and surprisingly, she felt neither eager nor frightened. It was as if she were somehow outside herself, watching.

  He took her hand, and as they stood together, the congregation threw wheat and shouted, “Be fruitful and multiply!” Then Mama escorted her up the stairs, while Meir hurried to his seat at the front of the synagogue. Services continued as usual, except that the penitential prayers were omitted.

  Once in the balcony, the women surged forward to weave flowers into Joheved’s hair and help her into her jewelry. Most of it was Leah’s, but two items were new, gifts from Meir. Those close enough to see their detail oohed and ahhed as Marona fastened Joheved’s new girdle and placed the matching headpiece over her veil. Both were fashioned of shining silver, woven into a wide braid and decorated with delicate silver birds. The eye of each bird was either a pearl or a sapphire, the stone of Issachar, of understanding and of Torah. Just before it was time for the ceremony, Aunt Sarah anointed her with perfume.

  Escorted by Rivka and Marona, Joheved walked outdoors to the raised platform in the center of the synagogue courtyard. Under the safety of her veil, she stared at Meir with impunity, but his expression was inscrutable. His côte was made of the same blue silk as hers, and she could hear people saying that they made a handsome couple.

  When she reached his side, he lifted her veil and threw it over his own head as well, forming the wedding canopy. Two young students called as witnesses were told to observe carefully as Meir wedded Joheved by reciting the ancient formula, “Behold, you are consecrated unto me by this ring, according to the Law of Moses and Israel.”

  As he slipped the ring onto her right forefinger, Joheved could feel h
is hand shaking. How was it possible for her to be so calm? She put her hand over his to reassure him and barely heard the ketubah and marriage settlements being read to the witnesses. The crowd was so large that not everyone fit into the courtyard, so they moved into the street for the chazan to chant the seven wedding benedictions.

  “Soon may there be heard in the cities of Judah, in the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of gladness and joy, the voice of bridegroom and bride, the grooms jubilant from their canopies and the youths from their feasts of song. Baruch ata Adonai, who makes the bridegroom to rejoice with the bride.”

  As the chazan finished this last blessing, Meir took up a cup of wine, drank deeply and gave it to Joheved. His eyes never left hers as she lifted the cup to her lips. When she was done, Meir turned and threw the goblet at the synagogue’s outer wall. The cup shattered, and several maidens raced to pick up the shards, possession of which assured them a good marriage.

  Immediately the musicians broke into song, and the company, shouting with joy, rushed at the newly wedded couple and carried them to Salomon’s house. No sooner did they enter the gate than Benjamin and Asher, swinging a loudly squawking hen and rooster over their heads, forced them up the stairs and into Leah’s, now their, bedroom.

  Suddenly, they were alone. Their mad dash had gotten Meir to the bridal chamber before any demons, confused by the noise, could prevent him from enjoying his newly won nuptial happiness.

  Joheved sat on the bed, decked with blooming honeysuckle, and looked around at everything except her husband. She knew this was her grandmother’s old room, but it seemed different now, bright and cheerful. Mama had fastened rose-colored hangings on the walls, and there was new linen on the bed. On an unfamiliar chest, which Joheved supposed must contain Meir’s effects, was a tray holding bread, wine, half a roasted chicken, two cooked eggs and some fruit preserves. There was also a small dish of salt.