Authors: Jack Quinn
summer were the beginnings of a lifelong effort to understand the mind, moods and convolutions of the opposite sex.
My assigned chores during the months of
Av
and
Elul
16
involved harvesting trees suitable for father
to make furnishings for Yehoshua’s new home, while my brother alternated his days between finishing construction on it and working on commissioned projects in Sepphoris.
Tanya soon found me out at my usual work site deep in the forest off the rutted path that led
from Nazarat to the paved Roman road to the city, feigning surprise at discovering me where we spoke on the first instance of our sylvan meetings. As was her wont, she began by accusing me of cutting down beautiful shade trees under which it was her habit to lie. She often took her midday meal nearby and read poetry on a tightly rolled parchment.
One noonday after stretching out against a boulder at the edge of my work site, she opened her packet of food and proceeded to eat. I could not fell trees in that immediate area for fear of them falling on her, and she refused to be run out of her chosen place. Therefore, I boldly fetched my own meal and sat on a stump to join in her repast.
“Here,” she offered me a wedge of bread stuffed with roasted lamb and the cheese of a goat. “If eating forbidden food with Vespasian for all those months did not damn you to perdition, this certainly will not.”
“You are a beautiful demon.”
Again she laughed, bit into the food, and washed it down with watered wine. “My father
thinks the laws of your religion are ridiculous.”
Tanya busied herself with collecting the remnants of her half-eaten meal which she threw under a bush, then sat immobile for a moment staring at me across a short distance of fallen leaves and pine needles from previous seasons. “Show it to me.”
At my age of thirteen, this was the first girl I had engaged in prolonged conversation outside my family. The first Roman woman I had known. If I walked away refusing her challenge, I would not only surrender my own self-respect, but leave her with a tale of defeat to relate about my religion. If I did acquiesce to her outrageous provocation, however, I would break the sacred Torah law of purity.
We sat there unmoving for an immeasurable time, each testing the will of the other in silence. Just the thought of lifting my tunic to part my loincloth and expose my member to this infuriating girl was bringing it erect unbidden, making my entire body feverish, my hands and
brow moist with perspiration.
Tanya finally crawled to my side, kneeling next to me with a nervous giggle, gazing down at
my lap, apparently unsure of the wisdom in what she had begun, but too proud to give it up.
She gazed in my eyes in which she must have seen my anguished confusion. Kneeling beside me, lifted my tunic and my organ sprung from its restraint without prompting.
“Oh! By the great god Jupiter!”
“Tanya, please!”
Her eyes were wide, fixed on my penis. She spoke without removing them from my full erection, pushing my garment up to my waist. “Circumcision is quite beautiful,” she whispered, then raised her eyes to mine with an impish grin. “You are not such a small boy after all, Shimon.”
I had never before felt the sensation I experienced at that moment, a combination of ache, euphoria, submission and helplessness, my voice hoarse and weak. “Tanya....”
similar, yet far lesser tension in the dark of night during my false trips to urinate in the trench beyond our house. After an all-too-brief period of firm, but gentle strokes of delicious ecstasy, I spurted high in the air to the gleeful laughter of my wondrous conspirator and my own groans of indescribable, delirious rapture.
Our meetings became frequent after that illicit rendezvous. Tanya’s disregard of my
crippled leg, her insatiable curiosity matching my own, the exploration and mutual stimulation of our young bodies became our avid pastime, resulting in our purity laws being at first completely forgotten, then ignored. Her knowledge of seemingly inexhaustible variations on Plato’s ‘beast with two backs’--derived, so she claimed, from surreptitious readings of certain Greek writings, provided a boundless variety of sexual pleasures that often climaxed with hilarious laughter.
Between copulations, Tanya began probing my mind, displaying an intelligence and education that was leagues beyond what I had observed in any Jewish women of my acquaintance. Our post-coital conversations led us into discussions of the philosophies of Aristophanes, Socrates, and Aristotle, whereby I seemed to gain some modicum of respect from that often ill-tempered female, not the least exemplified by her cessation of calling me ‘stupid boy.’
One of her more esoteric areas of knowledge was gleaned from her purported interest in becoming a surgeon. Tanya had been discharging a monthly issue of blood for a few years, which to my horror, she claimed, engaging in sex during that period made her free from the worry of pregnancy. What little I knew about the mysteries of the feminine body at that time included the paramount prohibition of the Torah regarding any contact whatsoever with a woman during menstruation, much less the impure abomination of intercourse. As in most other things regarding our brief relationship, however, Tanya prevailed. Particularly when she introduced me to the extremely acceptable substitution of the Greek method of intercourse during her maximum flow of uncleanness, the ecstatic substitution of fellatio and her reciprocal pleasure in cunnilingus. It was a rare meeting, therefore, when we did not give one another sexual pleasure one way or another, particularly toward the end of that memorable summer when we knew Tanya, her mother, and Vespasian would return to Rome.
Although the temporary nature of our relationship had been clear from the very beginning, I was saddened during our final meeting in the forest at that summer’s end. Tanya seemed intent on storing up on her orgasms, still focused on her own pleasure as always. She never indicated a dram of affection for me, strenuously hushing my timid professions of love during my elation of copulation. Afterward, she invariably dismissed my declarations as not only impractical for a poor Jew to harbor amorous feelings for a wealthy citizen of Rome, but impossible even if she had
returned the emotion, which she avowed she did not.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nazarat, Galilée
3766
Tishri
(CE 20 September)
Unlike most other couples whose marriage is arranged by their parents, it had always been assumed that Yehoshua and Rebekah would wed, since they have had eyes for one another from the time she began to bloom at the age of eleven and he in his fourteenth year. Although the traditional period between betrothal and
mistitha
17
was twelve months, so that a couple unknown to one another could become familiar, it could be shortened to a single month in circumstances such as my brother’s concern regarding possible retribution from Roman soldiers for his encounter with the tax collector..
Shortly after summer solstice, Yehoshua spoke about the matter to Father, who offered Rebekah’s father an initial
mohar
18
,
which they negotiated and debated almost to the first month of harvest. The marriage contract was then quickly drawn up specifying the final agreed price of sixty-five
shekels
19
.
Although not an outrageous amount, more I believe, than Father could afford,
especially considering the five-day wedding feast he would soon provide for half the town and
surrounding villages. After signing their agreement on Wednesday, the betrothal day specified for a previously unwed girl, and under a full moon for luck, the two male parents drank
shechar
20
to their future grandsons, the heat of their prior haggling banished from memory.
Although the tradition of
mattan
21
was waning, several days before the ceremony, Yehoshua presented Rebekah with the gift of an intricately carved wooden necklace depicting the signal events of the Torah, from Moses’ stone tablets to the sign of the Maccabees, a string of mahogany beads linked together with the strong tightly woven cord of a fisherman’s net.
The
mistitha
took place in
Cheshvan
22
,
when the heat of summer was behind us, the entire Galilee bathed in comfortable sunshine and cool nights, farmers relaxed with their harvest in, the vintage complete. My sisters having been so exuberant extending invitations to Yehoshua’s and Rebekah’s wedding that every relative, friend, and neighbor in Nazarat, even some of father’s customers from Sepphoris and people unknown to us from surrounding villages were all primed to celebrate the happy bonding of the two lovers.
That occasion of Yehoshua’s marriage to Rebekah was a joyous event for all, but caused me no small degree of consternation. The common acknowledgement of religious support for both timing and sanction of their wedding followed by Tanya’s insouciant departure the previous month
had left a gaping hole in my young life and a deep wound in my heart. My interest in other girls was nil, and the vocal reinforcement of our marriage laws and customs by relatives and neighbors made me wonder if I could ever fulfill Torah requirements in regard to that binding coupling when my own time came in the not too distant future.
I pondered the intent of the admonition in Genesis which was unmistakable: “Increase and multiply.” Some rabbinical sage had added his own interpretation of that command with the observance that, “A bachelor is not truly a man at all.” During my religious studies, Rabbi Moshe
claimed the most suitable age for a man to wed was the eighteenth year of his life, and that Yahweh cursed a man unwed at twenty.
The evening before my brother was to marry, he donned his finest tunic of beige linen and blue mantel to join a group of his friends in a procession led by me (whom he had designated to remain at his side throughout the festivities) in my lopsided gait to fetch his betrothed from her father’s home. Little Rebekah was dressed in an elegant, flowing white robe trimmed in bright yellow, the traditional bridal veil, and leather
round
23
,
attempting to assume the role of the woman she would never become, as she climbed into our litter amid her own giggles and those of her pubescent bridesmaids. Our procession increased in number as we walked through the imminent dusk, lighting the way with lanterns and torches through the narrow streets of Nazarat Illit until the entourage included almost the entire village, singing wedding songs, rejoicing with the happy couple to gather en masse outside our house for the Scripture blessings of my parents on the nuptial of Rebekah and Yehoshua, which was echoed by the crowd, adding their sentiments for a fruitful, happy life together. James blessed the nuptial pair with a special incantation composed from several pertinent Torah passages personalized from our priestly brother to Yehoshua and Rebekah, then led the people in marriage hymns familiar to all.
That event, I was surprised to learn--considering the multitude of laws and guidelines for our daily existence, was the only truly religious element in the entire weeklong period of that life-long binding ceremony. The evening celebration continued with Rebekah, her bridesmaids and friends somehow packing themselves into the small bedroom of my sisters’, converted for the time to the personal use of the young bride, while my brother and his friends engaged in games and dancing to traditional wedding music from flute, horn and
kinnor
24
played to clapping hands, cymbals and
tambourines during that entire night.
Those festivities did not cease until morning, and despite my gift of memory, I cannot recall if I had sleep between the bright sunrise of Yehoshua’s wedding day and the departure of the bridal couple that evening. The day that followed was filled with more song, music, dancing, and a feast served to the men and women separately. I participated in those games that did not demand a great deal of running, though was able to display my skill in contests of aim and dexterity. Rebekah sat under the ritual
huppah
25
a good part of the time looking and no doubt feeling like royalty for the first time in her life; a girl younger than my own age with a constant smile of modest joy, surrounded by her bridesmaids when they were not gamboling together in the field behind our house in the hope of attracting the notice of suitable bachelors.