Read Online Rashi's Daughters, Book III: Rachel by Maggie Anton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maggie Anton
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expression on her face. “Papa, why did you teach us?”
“Some interpret benaichem to mean children, and thus fathers without sons can perform the mitzvah of v’limad’tem by teaching a daughter Torah.”
“Maybe they teach only one daughter? You taught all three of us.”
“You and your sisters are all competent to study Talmud. You’re not light-headed like most women.”
“Most men are no better.”
“Which is why their fathers are obligated to teach them Torah,” he said. “If not for Torah, a man would be unable to control his yetzer hara . Look how violent the Edomite lords are, always attacking each other.”
She smiled and shook her finger at him. “You’ve managed to avoid answering my question about women doing mitzvot they’re exempt from.”
“If women want to fulfill the men’s mitzvot, if it gives them nachat ruach , ‘spiritual satisfaction,’ then they are of course permitted.” He playfully shook his finger back at her. “Not that we could prevent them.”
“But in Maghreb they do prevent them.” Rachel’s voice was suddenly serious. “You should have seen the way the women looked at me when I put on tefillin—like I was some kind of demon.”
“Every community has its own customs, which eventually take on the force of halachah.”
Their conversation ceased as they saw Simcha approaching. “Excuse me, Rabbenu. I have a question about this morning’s lesson.”
Rachel discreetly backed away, but not out of hearing distance. Papa treated every student’s questions with respect, which is why the older man often came to him. She hadn’t heard Simcha ask a silly question yet, and sometimes they were quite interesting.
This time Simcha’s question was easily answered by encouraging him to be patient; the Gemara would address his issue a few pages later. And when several young pupils quickly followed with questions of their own, Rachel realized that they had been reluctant to interrupt the conversation she’d been having with her father.
It seemed that Papa’s answer to Simcha was her answer too. Somehow she must wait and keep herself from becoming bitter like Mama, who, despite Papa’s words to the contrary, never resigned herself to her daughters performing the men’s mitzvot, a situation she hated but couldn’t change.
The days went by and Passover concluded with no sign of Eliezer, but Rachel refused to give up hope that he might return before their child was born. And when she gave birth to a boy on May Day, she still harbored hopes that he would arrive in time for the brit.
But that was not to be. It was Papa who held the baby while she climbed up to the bima and took her seat on one of the two elaborately carved chairs. The other was reserved for Elijah the Prophet; the only people who used it were bridegrooms. The bride sat in its mate, everyone hoping that she would soon occupy it again with a son to be circumcised.
While Papa recited the father’s traditional introduction, “Behold, I am prepared to fulfill the mitzvah of circumcising my son, as the Creator, blessed be He, commanded us,” Rachel sighed. She regarded the empty chair and recalled how Eliezer had filled it on their wedding day. But then she brightened; less than ten months later, she was sitting on the bride’s chair again with newborn Shemiah on her lap. And now there was another son for them.
She gently settled the baby on her lap and spread his legs. Papa might prefer that a man perform the brit, but Rachel was glad that it was a woman leaning in so close to her thighs. When she felt comfortable, she nodded at Miriam, who made the mohel’s blessing and picked up the azmil , the two-sided circumciser’s knife.
Rachel was determined to keep her eyes open; yet when the moment came, instinct made them close. Only the sound of her son’s cry made her realize that she had missed his brit milah as well as Shemiah’s. She looked down in time to see Miriam take a swig of wine and
“Some interpret benaichem to mean children, and thus fathers without sons can perform the mitzvah of v’limad’tem by teaching a daughter Torah.”
“Maybe they teach only one daughter? You taught all three of us.”
“You and your sisters are all competent to study Talmud. You’re not light-headed like most women.”
“Most men are no better.”
“Which is why their fathers are obligated to teach them Torah,” he said. “If not for Torah, a man would be unable to control his yetzer hara . Look how violent the Edomite lords are, always attacking each other.”
She smiled and shook her finger at him. “You’ve managed to avoid answering my question about women doing mitzvot they’re exempt from.”
“If women want to fulfill the men’s mitzvot, if it gives them nachat ruach , ‘spiritual satisfaction,’ then they are of course permitted.” He playfully shook his finger back at her. “Not that we could prevent them.”
“But in Maghreb they do prevent them.” Rachel’s voice was suddenly serious. “You should have seen the way the women looked at me when I put on tefillin—like I was some kind of demon.”
“Every community has its own customs, which eventually take on the force of halachah.”
Their conversation ceased as they saw Simcha approaching. “Excuse me, Rabbenu. I have a question about this morning’s lesson.”
Rachel discreetly backed away, but not out of hearing distance. Papa treated every student’s questions with respect, which is why the older man often came to him. She hadn’t heard Simcha ask a silly question yet, and sometimes they were quite interesting.
This time Simcha’s question was easily answered by encouraging him to be patient; the Gemara would address his issue a few pages later. And when several young pupils quickly followed with questions of their own, Rachel realized that they had been reluctant to interrupt the conversation she’d been having with her father.
It seemed that Papa’s answer to Simcha was her answer too. Somehow she must wait and keep herself from becoming bitter like Mama, who, despite Papa’s words to the contrary, never resigned herself to her daughters performing the men’s mitzvot, a situation she hated but couldn’t change.
The days went by and Passover concluded with no sign of Eliezer, but Rachel refused to give up hope that he might return before their child was born. And when she gave birth to a boy on May Day, she still harbored hopes that he would arrive in time for the brit.
But that was not to be. It was Papa who held the baby while she climbed up to the bima and took her seat on one of the two elaborately carved chairs. The other was reserved for Elijah the Prophet; the only people who used it were bridegrooms. The bride sat in its mate, everyone hoping that she would soon occupy it again with a son to be circumcised.
While Papa recited the father’s traditional introduction, “Behold, I am prepared to fulfill the mitzvah of circumcising my son, as the Creator, blessed be He, commanded us,” Rachel sighed. She regarded the empty chair and recalled how Eliezer had filled it on their wedding day. But then she brightened; less than ten months later, she was sitting on the bride’s chair again with newborn Shemiah on her lap. And now there was another son for them.
She gently settled the baby on her lap and spread his legs. Papa might prefer that a man perform the brit, but Rachel was glad that it was a woman leaning in so close to her thighs. When she felt comfortable, she nodded at Miriam, who made the mohel’s blessing and picked up the azmil , the two-sided circumciser’s knife.
Rachel was determined to keep her eyes open; yet when the moment came, instinct made them close. Only the sound of her son’s cry made her realize that she had missed his brit milah as well as Shemiah’s. She looked down in time to see Miriam take a swig of wine and
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