The cry leaped from mouth to mouth, rooftop to rooftop. People poured out of their houses to join the procession, hands thrusting out to get their lamps lit as well. The column would continue to swell as it wound its way to the home of David and Deborah, gathering up the party of women waiting there. By the time it returned to the Beth Chatanim, it would become a veritable river of dancing lights, and the cries would rise to fill the night. “The bridegroom is waiting. Prepare to meet the bridegroom!”
Meanwhile, back in the Beth Chatanim, the men of the family set to work. Fetching of the bride and bringing her to the chuppah would take half an hour or more, and things had to be in perfect readiness when she came. Simeon sat on a chair quietly. He was not expected to help with the menial work on this night. Once the effects of the evening’s celebration had been cleared away, Uncle Aaron went to one corner and carefully donned his prayer shawl. It was a beautiful piece of handwoven, pure white linen, large enough to cover his head and spill down his back almost to the waist. His peyot, or side curls, danced softly as he adjusted it carefully over his head. The covering of the head was a sign of humility. To approach God with a bared head was to suggest that one was not willing to submit to his authority and majesty. Thus wrapped, Aaron also symbolically shut out the world so he could officiate as God’s representative without distraction.
While Aaron was thus engaged, the men took seats around Simeon. David turned to Yehuda. “Yehuda of Beth Neelah. I should like you to place your chair alongside Simeon’s. Soon you will be married, and what I have to say as Simeon’s father is for both of you.”
Yehuda, looking a little flustered, stood, moved his chair beside his friend, and sat down again. Then with great solemnity, David moved over to stand in front of the two of them.
“Simeon, before the coming of your betrothed, I should like to speak of the sacred nature of what you are about to do.”
Simeon nodded gravely. There was no easy familiarity of a family member now. David regarded his role as spiritual advisor to his son very seriously, which was exactly as it should be.
“Tonight is the night of your betrothal. In the Law of Moses, this is considered to be as binding as marriage itself. It is a serious commitment that you will make this evening. Only death or a formal bill of divorcement can dissolve your betrothal. Betrothal carries all of the attendant obligations of marriage except for the rite of cohabitation.”
Simeon nodded, his face somber.
David took a breath, looked around once to make sure everyone was appropriately attentive, and then went on. “Now, for the both of you, as you know, the first marriage of all marriages was performed by God himself, between Father Adam and Mother Eve. Not only is this proof of the sanctity of marriage and its centrality for all mankind, but there is much in the account thereof which provides instruction for us.
“When Adam was placed in the Garden of Eden, he was alone. After a time, the Lord God, blessed be his name, made a profound declaration. Said he: ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’”
He leaned forward, as earnest as Simeon could ever remember seeing him. “Consider on that statement for a moment, Simeon and Yehuda. That is a divine declaration. ‘It is not good for man to be alone.’”
David let that sink in, his eyes challenging them to ponder the import of those words. Then he went on. “After declaring that it is not good for man to be alone, the Holy One of Israel made a second, most significant declaration. He said, ‘I shall make an help meet for him.’ That is a most instructive term, ‘help meet.’ In the original Hebrew of the sacred writ, the phrase is ezer knegdo. Some have translated that phrase to mean a helper or a help mate. That is not true to the deeper meaning of the phrase. Helper would imply a superior role for men and a helping or inferior role for women. Many feel that way, of course, and treat their wives as chattel, but that is not what the Creator of us all declared. Knegdo means to ‘meet’ or to have two things brought together. But it carries a much deeper connotation, where one finds something that is equal to something else. In other words, a help meet is a person who helps us ‘meet ourselves,’ like looking into a mirror and seeing yourself.”
Both Yehuda and Simeon were listening intently. They knew the words of course, but they had not heard it defined in exactly this way.
“What then follows is the creation of Eve. And here, too, there is much for us to learn from the sacred word. You know it well. The Lord God caused a deep sleep to come upon Adam, and he took from his side a rib, and from that rib he created woman.”
Simeon’s father smiled thoughtfully. “I’ve wondered if the Lord couched this account in imagery to teach us important truths. It is a widespread supposition, for example, that men have one less rib than women, a fact that Luke, our physician here, assures me is not the case. But be that as it may, what do we learn from the story of the rib?”
Simeon tentatively raised a hand. “I’ve heard it said that woman was taken from Adam’s side because it is closest to his heart, suggesting that she should walk beside him always.”
“Yes, I’m sure that is part of it. If Eve had been taken from Adam’s head, then she would rule over him. If she were taken from his foot, he would rule over her. If from his hand, she would be only a tool to do his bidding. To be taken from the side is beautiful imagery and teaches us much about how we are to treat our wives. But I think there is something much more profound than that.”
The two men waited expectantly, not yet seeing what it was David was suggesting.
“Once Eve was created from the bone taken from Adam, what follows in the account?”
“The commandment for them to become one flesh,” Yehuda replied.
“Yes. Think about that. Adam now has a help meet, or in other words, he has finally met his equal. And the Lord now says, ‘Therefore’—in other words, because I have created woman and brought her to you—‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother and shall cleave unto his wife.’ ”
David ben Joseph stopped and turned his head. In the distance, as though barely a whisper, the first cries of the approaching wedding party could be heard. He turned back quickly. “Think of that interesting choice of verbs for a moment. Normally, ‘to cleave’ means to cut asunder, to split into two parts. We speak, for example, of the camel having a cloven hoof. But in our language, that word also carries the opposite meaning. It means to put back together two things that have been separated, to join them so tightly one to the other it is as if there was no original separation.
“And here, my two young sons, is the key to understanding how God views this sacred relationship between a man and a woman. Adam had something cut away from him, cloven from his side. He was missing something. He was not whole any longer. So what is the solution? How does a man become whole again?”
“By cleaving to our wives,” Simeon said in wonder.
“Yes. By cleaving to the only creation that is truly equal to us. And when we cleave together—or better, cleave back together—we become whole once again. We become not two, but one—one in flesh, one in mind, one in spirit. Then and only then, can man be fully complete.”
Simeon was struck with another thought. No wonder his mother and father loved each other as they did. This was the basis for that love: total respect for each other, viewing themselves as different but of equal importance.
Behind David the cries of the approaching crowd were rapidly swelling. They would soon be at the Beth Chatanim.
He turned for a moment to listen, then hurried on. “This is why our religion does not believe the joining of male and female is an act only for the procreation of children. Of course, that is an important part of it, but the act of human intimacy between a man and a woman was designed by God as a way to bind man and woman together into a perfect oneness.”
David bowed his head slightly. “This is what we learn from the marriage of Adam and Eve. You two have found yourselves wonderful women, the perfect help meets. Tonight we shall begin the process that w
ill reunite you, Simeon, to Miriam, so that eventually, you can become one flesh, one in the sight of God.”
III
Simeon stood with Miriam, side by side and holding hands, still beneath the canopy. Merriment and celebration swirled all around them. Others repeatedly came up to them and shook their hands, or they called out and raised their cups.
Simeon squeezed Miriam’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” she said in surprise.
“For not throwing me out the window that night in Rome. For being willing to marry a fool.”
“Simeon,” she said, her eyes glowing with happiness as she looked up at him, “it was I who was foolish that night.”
“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he said. “You are my Eve. You are my perfect help meet.”
That startled her for a moment; then she smiled softly. “Thank you.”
“Remind me when things quiet down to tell you what Father told us tonight. Then you will better understand what I mean by that.”
“All right.”
“I love you, Miriam bat Mordechai ben Uzziel.”
There were sudden tears of joy in her eyes. “And I love you, Simeon ben David ben Joseph. More than I could ever possibly express in words.”
“Mazal tov!” somebody cried. “Good luck to you.”
Not letting go of Miriam’s hand, Simeon turned and raised his cup of wine. “Thank you.” The people drifted away again, and he turned back to her. “I have only one wish for tonight,” he said.
“What?”
“May this coming year fly by as swiftly as the eagle, be as fleeting as the shadow of a bird, pass as quickly as the flying arrow.”
“Amen,” Miriam whispered, squeezing his hand tightly. “Amen and amen.”
IV
Beth Neelah, in the Upper Galilee 17 December, a.d. 31
“Mazal tov!” Simeon lifted his wine cup high, saluting his friend.
“Mazal tov!” roared the villagers of Beth Neelah in response.
“Thank you,” Yehuda said. He stood at Livia’s side beneath the canopy erected in the main square of the village. His face fairly glowed with happiness.
Miriam stepped forward and kissed Livia on the cheek. “I thought I was happy on the night of our betrothal, but I think I am just as happy for you tonight,” she whispered.
Livia fought back tears. “If it weren’t for you and Simeon, none of this would have ever happened.”
Simeon overheard and said, “No, this was the hand of the Lord. Miriam and I were just instruments in his hand to help it along.”
Yehuda reached out, grasping Simeon on the back of his neck and shaking him gently. “Instrument or direct cause, I know not,” he said huskily. “But thank you, old friend. Thank you for all of it.”
Chapter Notes
The phrase “help meet,” found in Genesis 2:18, is often translated or quoted as “help mate” or “helper.” But the original phrase carries the meaning of correspondence or equality (see Wilson, p. 271). As Clarke states it: “Ezer knegdo [means] a help, a counterpart of himself, one formed from him, and a perfect resemblance of his person. If the word be rendered scrupulously literally, it signifies one like or as himself, standing opposite to or before him. And this implies that the woman was to be a perfect resemblance of the man, possessing neither inferiority or superiority, but being in all things like and equal to him” (Clarke, 1:45).
The customs associated with betrothal were described in great detail in volume one and so were not included in the same detail here (see the footnote for chapter 8 in Fishers of Men, p. 187).
At the time of Christ, there were wedding halls—what we today would call reception centers—in the larger communities in the Holy Land (Bloch, p. 30).
It is not clear how early the traditional salutation of mazal tov, or “good luck,” came into common use, but it was inserted here because it is so well known today.
Chapter 8
If the mighty works, which have been done in thee, had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day.
—Matthew 11:23
I
Beth Neelah, in the Upper Galilee 4 September, a.d. 32
“Livia.” Yehuda straightened, shooting his wife a warning glance. “Leave the baskets to me.”
Livia wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand. “You are like an old dog with burrs in its coat, Yehuda. Stop fussing. I am just fine.” With a toss of her head, she lifted the basket filled with clusters of red grapes and carried it over to the cart, half loaded for the trip to the winepress.
“I should have made it a condition of the ketubah that you would be more obedient to the counsel of your husband,” he grumbled.
“Then you would have had a cow for a wife and not a woman.”
He laughed in spite of himself, slid the knife he was using to cut the grape clusters into a sheath, and walked over to her. He took the empty basket from her hands, tossed it aside, and took her by the shoulders.
She cocked her head at him. “If you are going to kiss me, hold me tighter. If you are going to lecture me about obedience, then get back to work.”
He kissed her.
Livia kissed him back, lingering much longer than he did. When she pulled back, her eyes were soft. “Thank you for being concerned,” she murmured. “But really, hard work will only make my body stronger.” A momentary look of pain darkened her features. “I know it’s been almost a year, Yehuda, but that’s not a long time. Not for some women.”
“I’m not worried,” he said lightly, though in actuality his concerns were growing. Shana and Samuel had been married several months after they had, and Shana was four months with child. “My own parents didn’t have me until they had been married almost two years.”
“And you were certainly worth waiting for,” she teased.
He laughed. “They wondered there for a while.”
She grew more serious. “Really, Yehuda. I feel wonderful. I think the life of a vineyard keeper’s wife completely agrees with me.”
He was instantly sober too. “I worried a lot about that before I decided to ask you to marry me,” he said. “You’ve lived in large cities your whole life. It pleases me greatly that you love it here as much as I do.”
“I do, Yehuda,” she said, reaching up to lay her hand on his cheek, partially covering his thick beard. “I have never been more happy.”
“Nor I,” he agreed.
“All right you two,” a voice from behind them barked. “You’re supposed to be working out here, not mooning into each other’s eyes.”
They both swung around. “Simeon!” Livia cried in delight.
“Well, well,” Yehuda exclaimed in pleased surprise. “A stranger in our midst.”
Simeon turned, cupping a hand to his mouth. “They’re back here!”
As Livia and Yehuda started moving between the rows of grapevines, Miriam and Leah came out of the olive grove that bordered the vineyard.
“Miriam!” Livia broke into a run.
Miriam did the same. “Shalom, shalom, Livia!”
II
They were seated on two stone benches beneath a huge, old gnarled olive tree. Yehuda and Simeon sat on the one, half turned so they faced each other. Livia and Miriam sat shoulder to shoulder on the other, hands clasped tightly. Leah had stayed with them for a few minutes, but when Yehuda announced that Shana was with child, Leah set off to see her old friend. Though it was still only mid-morning, the sun was getting hot, proof that while summer might be ending there was very little softening of the temperature as yet.
Miriam reared back, looking Livia up and down. “Look at you. You’re so brown.”
Livia looked down at her arms. Her light summer tunic had a sleeve that came barely to the elbow. “I know. I like it. Mother always said my skin was too pale.”
She had a small, triangular scarf tied over her head. It was dark brown and accentuated her light blond hair and blue eye
s. She looked radiant, assured, fully at peace. Miriam smiled. “This being the wife of an old bear must agree with you.”
“Hey!” Yehuda yipped in protest.
Miriam laughed lightly. “It’s a good thing she looks so happy, Yehuda. I was prepared to give you a lecture about treating her right.”
“Me? How about giving her the lecture? I can’t get her to slow down even a little.”
Livia smiled. “I can handle the old bear except when he starts smothering me by being too much of an overprotective husband.”
“Good for you,” Miriam said to the big man.
Yehuda gave his wife a triumphant grin.
“How soon will Shana’s child come?” Simeon wondered.
“In the spring,” Livia answered. “She and Samuel are very happy.”
“We’ll have to go and congratulate her,” Simeon said.
“So what about you two?” Yehuda asked Miriam. “Are you still planning on getting married at Sukkot?”
“We are,” she said happily. “Simeon had to come up to Sepphoris, so we thought we’d stop and let you know it’s on for sure. Also, we have a question for you.”
Simeon looked at Yehuda. “Do you plan to go up to Jerusalem for Sukkot?”
Yehuda gave a quick nod. “If we can get the harvest in and the grapes pressed.”
“No ifs,” Livia corrected him. “We’re doing well. Everything will be done. We are going.”
“Good. Miriam and I have talked about being married in Bethlehem just before the Feast of Tabernacles begins.”
“In Bethlehem?” Yehuda repeated. He hadn’t expected that.
“At my cousin Benjamin’s home. We don’t want a large ceremony. We’ll invite only the family and a few close friends. Benjamin and his wife, Esther, weren’t able to come for the betrothal last year, so they are very pleased. Also, Uncle Aaron and Aunt Hava are now in Jerusalem too, as you know. Aaron would like to perform the marriage for us.” He shrugged. “The more we thought about it, the more sense it made to be married there.”
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