I
Blessed with all the virtues was Beruriah, wife of the noted Master,
Rabbi Mayer. It was at the time that God’s heart was filled with pity
for the Jewish people, which had just lost its independence and its
freedom, and from under His heavenly throne He summoned her soul, and
sent her down to earth. “Go, and rejoice the hearts of the wretched
and exiled. Go, and bring gladness to the sad and mournful. Let him
that beholds you know that life is worth the living, and understand
that he has an Almighty Lord who can create glory, and let him praise
and bless my Name.”
And therefore was she called Beruriah,—the chosen of God. The Romans,
however, called her Valeria,—the blessed one.
So beautiful she was, that at the most glorious sunset, the eyes of
the worshipful onlookers wandered from the sun to her and from her
to the sun, and none could be sure which was the greater beauty or
which the greater miracle. But at the consecration of the moon she
dare not show herself upon the street, lest the moon take flight
before the greater beauty, and pious Jews be helpless quite to bless
it. Whenever she walked along the way, all passers-by stood still,
lest they fall into a ditch at their feet or stumble across a rock
in their path, for all eyes were turned only upon her. And those who
toiled heavily were wont to say, when they had beheld her, “The sight
was even as balm to our weary limbs. Now will our labours once again
seem light.” And those who sat within doors also said, “Was not our
house just radiant with a loving glow? Beruriah must have passed
beneath our window.” And then the sages introduced a new blessing,
with which Jews should hymn the praises of the Lord for having shared
His beauty with a mortal.
Wise was she, too; so that the old men of her time queried, “Shall
we not don women’s garb and surrender our men’s habits to her? For
before her we are like old women in whom the little sense they had
has long evaporated, while she possesses the wisdom of all our years
added together.” And when a husband scolded his wife, saying that
women had much hair but little brains, the wife would retort: “And
what of Beruriah?” Then the husband would see that he had been hasty,
and that his own wife was more clever than he, since she had so
cunningly reminded him of Beruriah. Whereupon the sages introduced a
new blessing, with which Jews should chant the praises of the Lord
for having shared His wisdom with a mortal.
But Beruriah was deeply learned, too. In the written lore of the
Holy Law she was as sure as if she trod upon a beaten path, and
the oral commentaries reposed within her as securely as sacred
books within their closet. Great keenness of intellect in her was
merged with clear simplicity, and the Torah is a field that may be
worked with these tools alone. Many a tangle did Beruriah unravel,
and many an obscure spot did she illuminate. Her word and her
interpretations were esteemed as highly as those of her own husband,
the renowned Talmudist Rabbi Mayer. But of this same Rabbi Mayer,
who was the greatest of his epoch, and who was so subtle that he
could demonstrate the purity of a reptile in one hundred and fifty
different ways, it was said: “Small wonder that he knows so much and
that he is so acute. For Beruriah is his wife!”
Rabbi Mayer, however, heeded the words but little, and felt no
affront, for he was very proud of her and loved her boundlessly.
And every day he would utter in his prayers, “A wondrous jewel hast
Thou created, and of all Thy servants, Thou hast chosen me to be
illuminated by its brilliancy. How shall I thank Thee, God?”