Enchantress: A Novel of Rav Hisda's Daughter Read Free

the cost of rebuilding my home, and I’ve had to mortgage my lands.” He took a deep breath. “To make matters worse, my father is very ill and unlikely to recover.”
    “I am so sorry.” I could no longer pretend to be an uncaring acquaintance. “Please let me help you.”
    “I don’t want any help, especially not yours.”
    “Let me supply the extra ketuba payment. After all, you were delayed returning home because you stayed to save my life.” The Rabbis stipulated that when a man divorced his wife, he had to pay her an agreed-upon sum to live on afterward. The amount was written in her marriage contract, her ketuba .
    “I did that for my own reasons, not because I expected a reward.”
    “Even so, it would be ungrateful of me to let you suffer on my account.”
    Rava stopped to think, and I congratulated myself on my foresight in secretly arranging to become his lender. Sure that he’d be too proud to accept my assistance, I had turned to my brothers Mari and Tachlifa, who managed my property. Both had in-laws in Machoza who were willing to act as my agents in acquiring whatever land Rava needed to mortgage.
    “Speaking of suffering, do you recall what your father taught about the Holy One’s afflictions of love?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I said slowly, curious and afraid of where Rava was leading. “If a man sees that afflictions are befalling him, he should look to his deeds to determine if he needs to repent for some sin. If not, he should attribute his sufferings to neglect of Torah study. If he finds neither of these, he should accept them as Elohim’s afflictions of love.”
    “That is what I remember,” he replied. “By accepting his suffering in this world, the pious man receives a greater reward in the next world than his merits would otherwise justify.”
    “You are the last man one could accuse of neglecting Torah study.” I paused to choose my words carefully. “But couldn’t there be some sin, perhaps one you’ve committed inadvertently, that you need to atone for?”
    “Heaven knows that I have thoroughly repented for all my sins.” His voice was weary, not arrogant. “Rav Huna taught that those the Holy One loves, He slams with sufferings. As the prophet Isaiah said: ‘Though he had done no injustice, Adonai chose to crush him with sickness.’”
    “But . . . ,” I began, my exasperation growing. Isaiah said the crushed man’s reward was in this world, where “he will see offspring and have long life,” not in the next world. Surely Rava knew that. Why would he want to justify suffering?
    Before I could say more, he added, “You might think this happens even if he does not accept his sufferings with love. Therefore the verse continues, ‘if his soul acknowledges,’ which means that these afflictions come only with his consent.”
    I could no longer restrain myself. “If you want afflictions, then you are welcome to them.” I was assaulted by bitter memories of Rami’s death, less than four years after our wedding, and my little girl’s death from a kashafa ’s Evil Eye only last year. “I’ve had enough suffering in this life already,” I said. “As Rabbi Yohanan answered when asked if his afflictions were dear to him, ‘Neither they nor their reward.’” Immediately I regretted my harsh tone. Why did Rava make me so angry?
    “If Elohim chooses to afflict me with poverty and childlessness, I accept them, but the sufferings my yetzer hara has inflicted . . .” Rava’s voice trailed off.
    Ah, the yetzer hara —the evil impulse. That’s what the Rabbis called man’s drive for pleasure or gain.
    Now was the time to apologize for my own evil impulse. “I know Yom Kippur has passed, but I must ask your forgiveness for angering you just before you left Sura.” I hoped I sounded as sorry as I felt. “Please don’t hold a grudge against me for such a momentary lapse.”
    He sighed deeply but refused to meet my gaze. “Of course I forgive you.” He