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?”
II
And Rabbie Mayer’s students said, “Beruriah has been blessed with all the virtues, and she is to Rabbi Mayer a wondrous jewel with which God has chosen to glorify our master; yet is not her heart but the weak heart of a woman? And even as the flashes of the jewel, do not human passions play and contend within her? Who can assure us that her ears are sealed against the seductive speeches that fall upon her like glowing sparks and melt her heart like wax? Blessed, too, with all the virtues was Mother Eve, of whom all later generations of women are but a reflection, and yet her ears were open to the serpent. And where Eve succumbed, surely Beruriah will not be able to resist.”
Thus spoke Rabbi Mayer’s pupils among themselves, until at last it came to the ears of the great Teacher. At first he was deeply incensed and his anger boiled like the seething waters of a fiery cauldron. He wished to confront his disciples in all his fury and drive them forth. How dare they question her virtue and her purity,—her will of steel against all tempting tongues! Was not Beruriah a holiday-child of God’s, and did not he who insulted her desecrate the holy day,—was he not a sinner unworthy of sitting before Rabbi Mayer, hearing him expound the Torah?
But he who could demonstrate the purity of a reptile in one hundred and fifty different ways, soon changed his course of thought. Were he to drive forth his disciples for the doubt they had uttered regarding Beruriah, they would take leave and declare, “Had we been wrong in our doubts Rabbi Mayer would have laughed us to scorn, and would soon have forgotten our words. But because they are well-founded he flew at once into a rage and cast us forth from him.”