The Good Woman of Jerusalem   By Melissa Tawn   In a holy city, miracles can and do happen.

In the year 1906, when the Turkish Empire extended from the Bosporus to the Euphrates, a young widow took up residence in the Mea Shearim quarter of the holy city of Jerusalem, the center of the ultraorthodox Jewish settlement. Her name was Hannah and she was accompanied by her two-year-old daughter, Hassia. Nobody knew from where she came, and nobody knew her background, nor did she volunteer any information about her past. Hannah found a small one-room apartment to rent and earned a very modest living doing embroidery work — first on clothes for one of the many seamstresses in the area and later on velvet tallis bags and even parochet curtains which cover the ark of the Law. Indeed, the parochet she embroidered for the synagogue of the Belz hassidim was considered so beautiful that it was used only during the High Holidays.

Hannah quickly distinguished herself by her modesty and pious demeanor. She spoke only in whispers and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, lest she should make eye contact with a man. Her dresses covered her ankles and wrists, even during the hottest days of summer, and her high collars enclosed most of her neck. Her hair was always enclosed in a scarf, which covered her entire head. She never wore jewelry or, tfu-tfu-tfu, makeup, but always appeared clean and healthy looking. Her age, so people guessed, was around 25. At prayers in the women’s gallery of the synagogue, she was a model of concentration and purpose, never utilizing the occasion for idle gossip or frivolity. When she went to the ritual bath, she did so in the very early hours of the morning, so as to have complete privacy. When she had moments free from her work or household duties, she would piously read psalms or meditate on sermons she had heard the Sabbath before.

From time to time, matchmakers would try to talk to her about remarrying a suitable candidate, but she would always turn them away. Not only would she not provide any details about herself and her lineage, she would always claim that she was not worthy of whomever the matchmaker suggested as a possible candidate for betrothal. All she wanted, so she said, was to raise her daughter in peace.

Nonetheless, it was impossible for Hannah not to catch the eye of some of the younger men, and foremost among them was Eliyahu Teitelboim, a young and very promising talmudic scholar and the grandson of the famous Rabbi Hirsch Teitelboim, the 80-year-old president of the Ashkenazic Beis Din (religious court) of Mea Shearim, who was considered one of the patriarchs and pillars of the community. The young Eliyahu would, of course, never dare to approach Hannah in person, or even look her way more than for a few seconds at a time, but he did mention his attraction to her to his mother (his father having died of cholera in an epidemic many years before). When the efforts of matchmakers consulted by his mother failed, she approached Rabbi Hirsch and asked him if he could intervene.

And so it came to pass that Rabbi Hirsch Teitelboim issued an official summons to the good woman Hannah to appear before him in his study, on such-and-such a day of such-and-such a month. A summons from the president of the Beis Din cannot be refused, and so, on the appointed day, Hannah shyly knocked on the door of the great Rabbi Hirsch, full of trepidation and awe at the invitation. Without raising her eyes from the floor, she accepted his invitation to sit. “My dear daughter,” Rabbi Hirsch began, ” since you have no family here, I must talk to you directly of a matter which should really be that for your parents to decide. I have been told that you have refused all attempts by matchmakers to arrange a match with my grandson Eliyahu, a matter which is causing him much pain and suffering. Is he considered in your eyes to be unworthy of you?” Hannah blushed and fixed her stare on the tiles of the floor. “It is me who is unworthy, your honor. I am unfit for any man.”

“I have been told by many that you are a pious and modest woman,” replied Rabbi Hirsch, “and a loving mother to your daughter. Why do you think that you are unfit for any man?” Hannah blushed even more and for several minutes did not reply. Finally, she said in a whisper so low that Rabbi Hirsch had to lean forward to hear her. “It is a long and sad story, your honor, but you are the president of the Beis Din and so I am obliged to tell you. I will leave it to your judgment as to whether this tale is ever to be repeated.”

“I was born, your honor, in the city of Safed, the home of the holy Ari, the great kabbalist, from whom I am directly descended on my mother’s side. I was not what I am now — I was born a male, and was trained as a yeshiva scholar, like your grandson. Like him, I was called an illui, a genius, and a great future was predicted for me. At the age of 20, a match was arranged between me and Golda, the only granddaughter of the miracle-worker Rebbe Mendel of Provishch. Our marriage was, of course, consummated and in due time our daughter Hassia was born. Two months after her birth, tragedy struck. My wife, may her memory be blessed, was hit by the speeding carriage of Murad Abu Hameed Pasha, governor of the Galilee in the name of the Turkish Sultan, a pig of a man who would no more think of stopping to help a Jewess than he would of stopping to help a dog. She died the next morning, in great agony.

My parents having passed away, and having no siblings, I was left to take care of the baby by myself, a task with I undertook with great effort, while at the same time continuing my studies as best I could. I had, at the time of the accident, been delving into the hidden meanings of the first of the Biblical mysteries, namely the creation of Eve. As you know, God creates Eve from Adam’s rib. Why does he do that? Why not create her from the same clay and dust from which he created Adam? There is obviously a great significance here, and one day, as I was feeding the baby, it came to me in a flash: inside each man there is, hidden, a woman: a woman who will one day control his destiny. Slowly but deliberately, I began to search for the woman in me, and to appeal to her to come to my aid, making use of all of the kabbalistic tools which I had mastered. Equally slowly, Hannah emerged. At first she was but a voice, whispering suggestions as to how to take care of the baby, how to feed it and how to sew dresses for it. Later, she became a presence, one which I could feel, not apart from me but as another aspect of myself. As the weeks passed, this aspect took control of me more and more, until I felt that it was I who was but a minor aspect of her.

Finally, I realized that Hannah was ready to take over my body and my life completely. I packed up my late wife’s clothing, and all of the baby’s things, and, without saying goodbye to anyone, took the coach to Jaffa. There I rented a room from a Turk. I shaved my hair, my beard, and my ear locks. Later I would pull out the hairs of my face one by one by the roots, so they would not grow back. I threw away my male clothes and donned Golda’s dresses and shoes, which miraculously fit me exactly. I let Hannah take control of my speech and gestures, and I became her. I found work as an apprentice to a British lady who worked as a seamstress, and from her learned the art of embroidery. After over a year, I felt ready to move to Jerusalem, to seek my fate.

Now that you know my story, that fate is in your hands, and I will accept your judgment in this as in all matters, as I, a poor woman, must.”

Rabbi Hirsch was, needless to say, astounded by this tale, and found it rather hard to believe. “It is very difficult for me to accept what you say,” he remarked, “without any sort of proof”.

“There is, of course, one way which I could exhibit that what I say is true,” replied Hannah, but it would be most immodest of me to do so. Let me suggest an indirect approach. We both know that girls receive very little education beyond reading and writing and basic understanding of the Law, whereas boys are rigorously and thoroughly taught the secrets of the Talmud and its commentaries from an early age. Why not question me about the minutiae of Talmudic scholarship, and see whether I once was the illui I claimed to be?” Rabbi Hirsch accepted this suggestion and, for the next two hours, grilled Hannah intensively until he was convinced that she knew matters which were never taught to any female, and was as capable a master of Talmudic dialectics as even the best of his students. He then dismissed her, telling her that he would think deeply about her tale, and render his verdict in the morrow.

That night, sleep came hard to Rabbi Hirsch Teitelboim. After tossing and turning in his bed until almost the crack of dawn, when he suddenly fell into a deep sleep and immediately found himself in an immense marble hall, the walls of which glowed with a strange but comforting golden glow. Seated on four thrones in the hall, were four women, who bade him to approach. “We are the Four Mothers, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah,” they said, “and you are to know that the good woman Hannah is under our special protection. Do as your grandson wishes and sanction his marriage to her, for she shall be an ideal wife and a mother in Israel.” At this, they vanished, and Rabbi Hirsch awoke, as refreshed as if he had slept soundly all night. As he put on his phylacteries to say his morning prayers, he suddenly heard a voice speaking to him from no direction and all directions at once: “Rabbi Hirsch, heed your dream, for it is the will of Heaven”.

Later that day, in the synagogue, Rabbi Hirsch Teitelboim announced the betrothal of his grandson Eliyahu to the good woman Hannah. The marriage itself took place three months later, and was considered one of the most beautiful and moving ceremonies of that year, with hundreds of guests dancing in the street to honor the bride and groom.

The post-nuptial festivities lasted for a week, but Rabbi Hirsch was not able to be at all of them, since two days after the wedding he was urgently called to the city of Tiberius to adjudicate a complex legal matter. He stayed there for over four months, and after his return to Jerusalem he immediately inquired about his grandson’s marriage. Eliyahu assured him that all was well, and invited the old man to visit his house to see for himself. There Rabbi Hirsch saw his radiant granddaughter-in-law, preparing the evening meal for her husband and her young daughter, and very obviously pregnant with twins.

POSTSCRIPT: In 1970, when Hannah Teitelboim passed away at the age of 91, she was acknowledged by all Israelis, religious and secular alike, as one of the great personalities of the state, who actively worked for tolerance and understanding among all people. Her funeral was attended by the President of the State, by the Prime Minister, and by the leaders of all religious communities, as well as her nine children and 56 grandchildren. She is buried on the Mount of Olives, in a grave overlooking the courtyard of the Holy Temple. Five years later, the State of Israel issued a stamp in her honor. One of the main streets of the city of Safed, where she was reputed to have been born (no record of the birth was ever found, but then so many records from the time of the Turks have been irreplaceably lost) was named Hannah Teitelboim Avenue.