“I must give our people tools to answer the heretics who base their apostasy on the Torah,” Salomon continued. “Not all anusim will repent, especially not after this, and those who knew Judaism and rejected it will become even more difficult to convince.”
“All the more so when the minim justify their corrupt faith with our Torah,” Joheved said, her eyes flashing.
“Your Torah commentary must concentrate on the plain, literal sense of the text,” Shmuel insisted, now keen on the project. “The heretics may dismiss our Midrash, but they can’t ignore the clear meaning of the Holy One’s words.”
Salomon locked eyes with his grandson. “Shmuel, you’ve been studying with the minim for several years, both here and in Paris. If any Jew understands their claims and can help me refute them, you are the one.”
Then he turned to Rachel. “And you, ma fille, have taught Hebrew to both Guy and Étienne Harding. You can’t help but have heard their interpretations of scripture. Let your sisters focus on Tractate Nedarim while you assist me.”
Finally his gaze settled on his son-in-law. “Judah, you must continue editing my Talmud kuntres. We cannot allow that endeavor to cease.”
“You don’t need to revise your entire Torah commentary,” Shmuel said. “Genesis should be your priority, because in Creation the minim find justification for their most basic heresies: original sin, the Trinity, the fall of the angels.”
Rachel nodded. “Isaiah also needs to be addressed, and we mustn’t forget Psalms. The heretics imagine and invent more references to the Hanged One in these two books than in all the others combined.”
When Eliezer returned from his autumn trip buying furs with Pesach, Rachel tried to convince him how important it was for Papa to spend his time revising his Torah commentaries, but nothing would induce Eliezer to teach at the Cold Fair. It seemed to him only a matter of time until Talmud study in Ashkenaz was supplanted by the production of codes, as had happened in Sepharad. Salomon’s small yeshiva would never be able to replace all the learning lost in the Rhineland.
“This summer I missed precious commercial opportunities by taking your father’s place,” he declared. “And I can’t afford to repeat the loss.” He had also been unable to keep up his astronomical calculations, and now he’d have to waste time relearning them.
Normally Rachel would have interpreted this as more grumbling about how her grand scheme to produce woolens in Troyes had come to naught. But there was something about his tone, an undercurrent of despair mixed in with anger and resentment, that gave her pause. His business in the east had been successful, she wasn’t niddah when he got home, and there was Hannah’s wedding to celebrate. Yet his happiness was muted.
And when Judah suggested that Elisha and Rivka would make a good match, she had seen a flicker of fear in Eliezer’s eyes before he and Judah embraced in apparent joy.
“Eliezer, is anything wrong?” she asked as they lay in bed together. Usually he fell asleep immediately after the holy deed, even in the winter when nights were long and they went to bed early. But his swift shallow breathing confirmed that he was still awake. He was agitated about something.
“You’ve got to come back to Toledo with me.” His entreaty sounded more urgent than previously. “The children too.”
“But I have to help Papa with Psalms. And Shemiah is just starting to understand Gemara. You can’t interrupt our son’s studies now.” Her voice rose with alarm. “Something happened on your trip. What was it?”
“The Edomites captured Jerusalem.”
“And what does that have to do with us going to Toledo?”
Eliezer leaned up on an elbow to face her. “Rachel, the great bloodshed wasn’t an aberration. Underneath their pleasantries, the Edomites hate us, and it’s only a matter of time until what happened in Mayence and Worms happens in Troyes and Ramerupt.”
“How can you believe such a thing?” Yet he had to be serious if he was calling her Rachel, not Belle. “Both the Church and King Henry strongly condemned the marauders. And everyone agreed that they received the punishment they deserved when the Hungarian army slaughtered them.”
He sighed. “At first I thought it was my imagination, that grief and anger were affecting my interpretation of events. But other Jews agree that the change I’ve experienced in Ashkenaz, while subtle, is real.”
“What’s so different?”
“It used to be that each October when I traveled east, particularly after a hard winter and crop failures, local merchants welcomed me, were eager to buy my grain and sell me their furs in return. They didn’t seem to care that I was Jewish and I didn’t care if they weren’t.”
“And now, because the Turks no longer rule Jerusalem and people are hungry, suddenly everyone hates you?”
He paused to consider when and how things began to change. “It’s been happening slowly, ever since the great bloodshed, and not just to me but to other merchants as well. There are burghers who now look at Jews with suspicion and loathing. They can’t understand how any normal person could kill himself and his children rather than worship the Hanged One. In Mayence there are rumors that we’re demons or in league with the devil, which is one of the reasons I won’t go there anymore.”
Rachel’s insides began to tighten. Once the Edomites viewed Jews as not human, feudal rules wouldn’t apply, and they would lose their protected status. Maybe that’s why the baron had tried to cheat Papa last winter.
“This suspicion and loathing works the other way too,” Eliezer continued. “Whenever I met a German burgher, I couldn’t help but wonder if he helped open the gates for Emicho’s men. Or if he would do so, should a future opportunity present itself.”
“This is terrible. Everyone’s fear and suspicion will feed on itself,” Rachel said.
“None of this occurs in Sepharad,” Eliezer said. “Jews, Moors, and Spaniards of Toledo are on excellent terms with one another. Few have even heard of the great bloodshed.”
Rachel took a deep breath to calm herself. “Notzrim and Jews are on excellent terms in Troyes, even if grain prices are high. I see no reason why this should change just because Jerusalem has substituted one foreign ruler for another.” Eliezer had to be wrong about hatred for Jews in Troyes. Without the Jewish community there would be no fairs, and without the fairs, no prosperity.
“Rachel, I see another problem. Right now Jews have a monopoly on trade between Edom and the Levant.” Eliezer spoke quietly, as if imparting a great secret. “Our livelihood depends on buying cheap produce from the Notzrim and selling it for a profit to the Saracens, then turning around to buy cheap goods from the Saracens that we mark up for sale to the Notzrim.”
“Don’t lecture me. I’ve been a merchant longer than you.”
“I just wanted to make sure you understood.”
“I do. So what’s your point?”
“Right now we charge prices as high as we like because nobody knows our costs. But assuming the Edomites aren’t ousted from the Eretz Israel immediately, they will soon discover what Jews pay for the silk and spices we sell so dear.” Eliezer paused for Rachel to digest his words. “And when the Venetians or Lombards realize our profit margin, how long do you think it will take before their ships start transporting merchandise as well as pilgrims?”
“But the Notzrim can’t even communicate with each other,” she protested. “How will they possibly negotiate with Saracens?” All Jews knew Hebrew, an enormous advantage in facilitating Jewish trade.
“If the profit is sufficient, they’ll manage.” Before she could find a new objection, he added another argument. “And if the Notzrim have a choice between buying from us or from other Notzrim, whom do you think they will favor?”
Rachel’s heart sank as she considered her children’s future. “Edomites won’t become merchants overnight; maybe the Saracens will unite and expel them first.”
From what Eliezer had seen of the Moors, this was unlikely. “It will be too late. Once enough Franks
know the low cost of our goods, they will resent paying so much for them.”
“Even if you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, why should the children and I go with you now?” She knew he wouldn’t have a good answer this time. “Why not wait a few years until Rivka is married and Shemiah has finished his studies?” And Papa is in Gan Eden.
“How I love to argue with you.” He leaned over and began kissing her neck. “You should come with me this year because I can’t live without you,” he whispered as he reached out to caress her breasts.
Her breath quickening, Rachel gave herself over to the pleasure his hands and lips were generating. She couldn’t refute his final reason—not that her yetzer hara wanted to.
A storm blew in the next day, causing Rachel to insist that it was too cold for Salomon to go out, and that she and Rivka would pray with him at home. While waiting for the men to return, Rachel helped Rivka with her spinning and told her about their plans. “You can’t imagine all the wonderful things you’ll see on the trip, Rivka.” She gave the girl a hug.
“But Alvina and I have just started to study Mishnah.” Rivka protested.
“I’ll teach you Mishnah.” Now Rachel would have someone to study with while Eliezer was out. She turned to Salomon. “You mustn’t overexert yourself while we’re gone, Papa.”
“Don’t worry, ma fille.” Salomon stretched out his good hand to pat hers. “With Shmuel’s help, I can revise my kuntres and resume my duties as rosh yeshiva. The only thing you need to fret over is what we’re going to feed everyone during Hanukkah.”
“Promise you won’t spend too much time in the vineyard, especially in bad weather.” Her voice rose with alarm. The demon had attacked him last year just after the Cold Fair.
“I won’t. I’ll let Baruch, Pesach, and Samuel do most of the pruning.”
She sighed and turned her attention to Rivka’s spindle, praising the quality of her daughter’s wool thread. There was no way to keep Papa out of the yeshiva or the vineyard.
“I will miss you,” he continued. “But a woman’s place is with her husband. You’ve been a tremendous help by showing me which psalms need my attention; now you can relax with Eliezer in Toledo while I revise them.”
“I won’t be relaxing in Toledo, Papa. Rivka and I will be studying together, and I’ll be writing more commentary on Nedarim.” While Eliezer spends all night at the observatory and half the day sleeping, she said to herself, having second thoughts about leaving. Did she want their children to see him devoting his time to secular studies instead of Torah?
Before she could decide whether to share her misgivings with her father, the door swung open, silhouetting Miriam and Joheved against the swirling snow. They had their arms around each other as if neither could stand without support. Tears streamed down Joheved’s cheeks and Miriam’s pinched face was white as the snowflakes on her veil.
Rachel hurried to close the door behind them. “Mon Dieu! What’s the matter?”
Miriam held out a letter as if it were a dead rat. “From Yom Tov.”
His hand shaking, Salomon scanned the parchment. Then he passed it to Rachel and opened his arms to comfort his distraught older daughters.
Rivka ran to her side, and with great trepidation, Rachel began to read. Yom Tov assured his mother that he was well before offering regrets for bearing such evil news, but he knew she would want to be warned.
Winter storms had brought the pox to Paris.
With all the travel to and from Troyes during the Cold Fair, it would only be a matter of days, weeks at the most, before the pox struck here as well. Observing her sisters’ terror, Rachel began to tremble. Shemiah and his older cousins had barely survived the previous outbreak, but children born since then would be vulnerable: Joheved’s Shlomo and Jacob Tam, Miriam’s Alvina and . . .
Rachel hugged Rivka tightly as potential tragedy loomed before her. And my daughter.
twenty-six
As one child in Troyes after another was stricken, Rachel spent an anxious January watching her daughter for any sign of poor health. Once they’d learned of the pox in Paris, there was no further talk of Rachel going to Toledo. Rivka would have the best chance of surviving if she became ill at home, and of course her mother must be there to care for her. Only pruning the vineyard with Papa and Shmuel, where they discussed how to revise Papa’s commentary on Genesis, succeeded in diverting Rachel’s mind from the approaching plague.
Papa was adamant that his very first question would address the heretics. “Shmuel tells me that several of their scholars ask why scripture begins with an account of Creation, and indeed our own sage Rabbi Isaac says the Torah should have begun with the first commandment given to Israel.”
She smoothly cut off a shoot that grew toward the center of the plant. “How will you answer them?”
“Should the nations say to Israel, ‘You are robbers who took the land of Canaan by force,’ Israel may reply to them, ‘All the earth belongs to the Holy One, Who created it and gave it to whom He pleased.”
“But won’t the minim say that He has now given it to them?” Salomon dropped another trimmed branch on the pile behind him. “Just as when He willed, He gave the land to Canaan, so when He willed He took it from them and gave it to us.”
“But the plain sense of the text is not to show the order of Creation, that the Holy One created heaven and earth first,” Shmuel said. “It shows that at the beginning of Creation, the earth was without form and there was darkness.”
“All forces of nature were created on the first day and activated later at their destined time.” Salomon slid his palms across each other, as if washing his hands of the matter. “Those who wish to explore this further may refer to Sefer Yetzira.”
Rachel addressed both her father and nephew. “How else will you refute the minim?”
Shmuel answered her. “The second verse states:The ruach of Elohim was hovering over the waters . . .
Since ruach means ‘wind’ or ‘spirit,’ they say this demonstrates the Holy Spirit, part of their false Trinity. But ruach obviously refers to the wind, which gathered the water into two areas above and below, just as the Holy One caused a ruach to split the Red Sea so the Israelites could walk through on dry land.”
Salomon nodded. “Unfortunately, the minim also see reference to their Trinity when it is written:The Eternal said, ‘We will make man in our image.’ ”
“What can you say to them?” Rachel asked. “The text is clearly in the plural.”
“This demonstrates the Holy One’s humility. He consulted with the heavenly council before creating other beings in His likeness,” Salomon explained. “Though they did not assist Him in forming man, and though this use of the plural gives the heretics an opening to rebel, yet the verse does not refrain from teaching proper conduct—that the greater should take council from the lesser in issues that affect them.”
“As a refutation to the heretics,” Shmuel continued, “it is written immediately after this verse:The Eternal created man in His own image . . . male and female He created them.
‘He,’ not they.” Shmuel smugly crossed his arms over his chest.
Rachel clapped her hands in approval. “What about the heavenly host, the angels?”
“Why is it written ‘day one’ [cardinal number], when all the other days are ‘a second, a third, a fourth day’ [ordinal numbers]?” Salomon asked. “Because on that day the Creator was the One, Sole Being in His world. The angels were not created until the second day.”
“But the sixth day isn’t called ‘a sixth day,’ like the others,” she pointed out. “It’s written ‘the sixth day.’ ”
Salomon smiled at her. “This teaches that all of Creation stood in waiting until Shavuot, the sixth day of Sivan, when Israel was to receive the Torah.”
Shmuel couldn’t resist adding, “In fact this entire section, concerning the six days of Creation, was written to anticipate the commandment:Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy . .
. for in six days the Eternal made heaven and earth.”
“Speaking of the sixth day.” Rachel’s voice grew serious. “How will you counter the heresy of original sin?”
Salomon winced. “Shmuel, how do the heretics explain what happened to Adam and Eve?”
“In Paris they teach that Adam gave names to the beasts three hours after his creation, that the woman ate the forbidden fruit and offered it to him in the fifth hour, and that they were expelled from Gan Eden by the end of the eighth hour,” he replied. “Since the verse following their expulsion states that Adam knew Eve and she became pregnant, the minim consider their children, and all children born since, to be stained with original sin.”
Salomon turned to Rachel. “Tell us what Rabbi Yohanan bar Chanina teaches about that day in Tractate Sanhedrin.”
“You mean from the end of the fourth chapter?” When Salomon nodded, she stopped pruning to recall the text.
“The day has twelve hours. The first hour Adam’s dust was collected; the second it became a shapeless lump; his limbs reached out in the third hour; in the fourth his soul entered him; he stood up during the fifth, and named the animals in the sixth. Eve became his mate in the seventh hour; during the eighth the two went up on the bed and four came down.”
Rachel paused and then explained, “This means that the two, Adam and Eve, used the bed, after which she bore two children, Cain and his twin sister, making four altogether.”
“Correct.” Salomon removed a few small, weak branches from his vine. “Please continue.”
“In the ninth hour he was commanded not to eat from the tree [of knowledge], yet he sinned and ate in the tenth; he was judged in the eleventh and expelled in the twelfth.”
Rachel fell silent for a moment and then her face lit with understanding. “Adam and Eve had children before they sinned.”
Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel Page 35