Written in December, 1991
The story of Rabbi
Akiva and his wife Rachel has not only served to inspire other couples to
sacrifice on behalf of Torah but has also remained a gripping human drama,
inspiring authors and novelists down to our own day. Our past, however,
contains many other fascinating true tales of famous couples whose stories are
less well known. Here is one:
Rabbi Yehudah Loew
ben Bezalel, who became known all over the world as the Maharal, was born in
Posen (Poland) in 1512. Studying Torah largely on his own from an early age,
his hasmadah and brilliance gained
him a reputation as a future Gadol b’Yisrael.
It was therefore only natural that the young prodigy was considered a “prize catch,”
and many prospective fathers-in-law vied with each other to win him for their
daughters.
The Maharal
himself had his own criterion for his life’s partner. He was not interested in
most of the shidduchim offered him.
Possessing a sublime character, whose outstanding characteristics were a love
of truth and a hatred of falsehood, the Maharal sought a partner with similar
traits. He was not interested in a wife who wanted him so that, as the rebbitzin
of one of the leaders of the Jewish people, she would wield power and influence
and be the envy of her friends. No, the Maharal knew too well that his
character made him incapable of flattering the rich and powerful. He knew that
his career would be a stormy one. His inability to dissimulate would alienate
the “powers that be” in the Jewish communities; they would see to it that he
would not be chosen rav of their communities. His life partner would have to be
made of sterner stuff. She would have to be willing to give up wealth and
position, if need be, to support him in his principled stands for Torah. It is
not easy to live in the eye of the storm of controversy.
Such a girl the
Maharal found. Perel, the daughter of R’ Shmuel ben Yaakov of Prague, was
indeed the daughter of a wealthy father, a father who was eagerly prepared to
support the young couple that possessed such a bright future. In those days,
having a talmid chacham among them
was the greatest adornment for a Jewish family in Poland and Central Europe.
Because it was an era of hokaras haTorah, many great Torah giants arose
in what is today called the “Golden Age of Polish Jewry,” including such greats
as the Rema, the Maharshal, the Maharsha, the Maharam, the Taz, the Levush, and
many others.
It was not her
money alone that attracted the Maharal to Perel, or so he said. There were many
other financially attractive “prospects.” Nevertheless, cynical observers noted
that the young scholar had not made a bad match from the financial point of
view: R’ Shmuel ben Yaakov was known as “Reiche Shmelke,” the Rich Shmuel, and
many wags said that the supposedly idealistic young Rabbi Yehudah had not
completely ignored self-interest in choosing this shidduch over others. In fact, they were mistaken, as fate was to
prove.
* * *
The engagement was
festively celebrated amidst many speeches extolling the match as one of Torah ugedulah bemakom echad, Torah and
(financial) greatness uniting in the happy couple, who, free of worldly
worries, would be able to devote themselves to a life of Torah. The prospective
bridegroom set off to pursue his studies at the world-famous yeshiva of the
Maharshal in Przemysl in Poland. Within a few months, he was to come to Prague
to celebrate the marriage and then return with his bride to the yeshiva. It
seemed too good to be true.
Then, shortly
before the wedding was to take place, the unexpected occurred. Antisemitic
riots broke out in Prague. In their fury, the mobs burned many Jewish homes in
the ghetto, and the fires spread to other parts of the town. By the time the
fires were put out, the Emperor had decreed that all Jews would have to leave
Prague within three months. Thus, the Expulsion from Spain, which had taken
place only 50 years before, was repeated on a smaller scale in Prague, one of
the leading Jewish communities of Europe. The bitter tears of the Jews, whose
lives were ruined, were of no avail in getting the Emperor to change his mind.
Within a year,
however, the entire city had begun to feel the economic effects of the
departure of the Jews. Commerce declined, taxes could not cover local expenses,
and many lost their jobs. Realizing his grave error, the Emperor allowed
himself to be persuaded by the Jewish leader, Yoselman of Rosheim, to allow the
Jews back to Prague. Most of the Jews had been economically devastated by the
expulsion. Among their number was R’ Shmuel ben Yaakov. All his money was lost
in the riots and the subsequent turmoil. Within a short period of time, he went
from being a “multi-millionaire” to a pauper, who, at his advanced age, could
not even provide for his own family. In his present straitened circumstances,
he lost his position on the governing board of the Prague kehillah. More painful was the loss of the “fair-weather friends,”
who were no longer interested in his company or his advice. He experienced the
meaning of the verse that “all is vanity.”
Worst of all was
the fate of his daughter’s forthcoming marriage. Bitterly, R’ Shmuel realized
that he could no longer keep his commitments to the couple, and without them,
the couple could not support itself. Of course, he could have insisted that the
wedding contract was binding, but R’ Shmuel was not that type of person; nor
could he see his daughter married without a penny to her name. Tearfully, he went
to R’ Yehudah and informed him that as a result of his current condition, it
was the will of the Almighty that the marriage not take place. Accordingly, he
released the Maharal from his obligations. In a word, the shidduch was off.
With a broken
heart, both father and daughter understood that once news of the cancellation
of the marriage spread, the shadchanim would
descend upon the young scholar with new offers of other shidduchim. After all, the Maharal was still a “catch.” But they
had not gauged the personal character of the betrothed groom. To R’ Shmuel’s
surprise, the Maharal told him, “As far as I am concerned, Perel is “my heart’s
choice,” and I believe she feels the same about me. I am not interested in
anyone else. True, I have not a penny to my name; I cannot ask her to marry me
in my present circumstances. But if it has been decreed that you should lose
your fortune, I am certain that it has also been decreed that Perel and I will
one day be married. How and when we must leave to Providence.”
* * *
R’ Shmuel looked
at the young man with astonishment. Was he serious? Would he really ignore all
offers and wait until an impoverished girl and her family found themselves in
better circumstances?
It was true,
though. Soon, shadchanim were shaking
their heads when talking about the impractical prodigy, Rabbi Yehudah, who
appeared to them to be either hopelessly romantic or, worse, a slave to his
promises.
In the crisis
which befell her family, Perel now revealed qualities that no one (save one)
realized she possessed. Her father had built his fortune through the kind of
hard work that takes a young man, and R’ Shmuel was no longer young. How could
he possibly amass the kind of capital it takes to make a fresh start in
business? It was impossible. With parents unable to make a living, Perel
emerged as the family breadwinner, literally. Perel had from her early years
had a community-wide reputation for her baking. Now she determined to make a
business of it, selling her cakes, pastries, and other delectables on
commission, and earning enough, just enough, to support her no-longer-young
parents and family. Neighbors in the Prague ghetto were surprised to see Perel,
the pampered daughter of the Rich Shmelke, who formerly had servants at her
beck and call, now a serious yet still cheerful, hardworking businesswoman.
But it was still a
painful situation. Perel did not make enough from the business to support two
families. Her parents, anguished at the thought of their daughter’s losing the
best years of her life and possibly all hope of marriage and a family, urged
her to marry her betrothed and not worry about them; they would get by. But she
did not have it in her heart to abandon her parents to want and misery so that
she could “get on” with her own life. Nor would her betrothed, Rabbi Yehudah,
hear of it. He would wait for her, however long it took, he assured her. These
words were more than Perel had hoped to hear, and yet she felt that she had
known all along that such would be his response. In this crisis, the pair
discovered more than ever how much they were true soul mates.
And so they
waited...and waited. The years rolled by, and the economic situation did not
improve. The Maharal, whose reputation was constantly growing, was besieged by
marriage brokers. Famous rabbis pressured him, pointing out to him how
unbecoming it was for a Torah scholar of his stature to remain a bachelor,
something unheard of in those days. To all these appeals the Maharal turned a
deaf ear. A Gadol BaTorah destined to
be renowned for his independence of judgment, he would not be swayed. And so
the years passed by.
* * *
One day, Perel was
standing at her stall in the marketplace in front of the Prague ghetto selling
her baked goods. Her pastries were much sought after by Jew and gentile alike.
Suddenly, an imperial cavalryman on horseback rode by, the black-yellow pennant
tied to the point of his lance fluttering in the wind. Without so much as a
hello, he thrust his lance down into her stall frightening Perel half to death.
It was not she that he was after though. He speared a loaf of bread and
jauntily cantered on. Perel ran after him, screaming, ‘‘Please, Your
Excellency, I am a poor woman supporting aged parents. We barely eke out a
living from what I sell! Do not takeaway our source of income, for we will
starve!”
The other Jewish
stall keepers watched the scene and sadly shook their heads. These kinds of
incidents were a daily occurrence in sixteenth-century Prague. The Jews were
second class citizens and therefore subject to the whims of the police and
soldiery. Perel’s plight, sad as it was, was nothing out of the ordinary for
the Jewish stall keepers. And yet, this time, something different happened. The
soldier wheeled his horse about and rode back to Perel. Somehow, Perel’s words
had touched the heart of this coarse cavalryman, who had killed more women and
children in his career than he cared to think about.
“Look, I haven’t
eaten in three whole days. We are fighting the Protestant rebels outside of
Prague. I must have food! But don’t worry, I shall return in a few days and pay
you for this bread. I, too, come from a poor family and know what it means to
starve!” With that, he wheeled his horse around again and was about to apply
the spurs when, on a sudden impulse, he tore off a colorful scarf he was
wearing. ‘‘I’m off to fight the rebels and I don’t know if I’m coming back. Why
should you suffer just because I have no money? Here, take this scarf, which I
took off the dead body of a rebel soldier I speared this morning. If I do not
return to pay you after the battle, sell the scarf, it’s certainly worth a loaf
of bread!” With that, he spurred his horse and rode off to battle, munching on
Perel’s loaf in one hand, holding the stirrup and lance in the other.
* * *
Bystanders, Jew
and gentile alike, were staring open-mouthed at the scene they had just
witnessed. For the rest of the day, it was the talk of the marketplace and the
ghetto. No one could remember anything like it. As for Perel, she took the
scarf, placed it in her basket, and waited to see if the soldier returned the
next day. When he did not, she was still nervous and waited another day. When
he still did not return, she decided that it was all right to sell the scarf,
for the family really needed every penny. When Perel took the folded scarf out
of the basket, she noticed for the first time that it felt heavy. Unfolding the
scarf, her eyes widened as she saw that the inside was lined with what looked
like pure gold. Not breathing a word to anyone, Perel closed her stall early
and went straight home. As soon as R’ Shmuel’s practiced eye and hand beheld
the scarf, he declared, in a voice trembling with excitement and fear, that it
was indeed pure gold, worth a small fortune. Father and daughter looked at each
other with tears in their eyes, both realizing that Heaven had sent R’ Shmuel a
second chance. With the capital realized from the sale of the gold, R’ Shmuel
would be able to recoup his fortune. Truly it was a miracle!
With a trembling
hand of her own, Perel immediately sat down to write a letter to her betrothed.
Do we need to guess the contents of the letter? Within five weeks, the wedding
took place, and all agreed that they had never seen anything like it. There
were no speeches or even the usual levity. Instead, every participant was
overcome with a feeling of awe and overwhelming emotion.
* * *
The Maharal’s
career was, as we said, a stormy one, but the storms never touched the
household of the devoted couple. The Maharal and Perel found the strength in
each other that more than made up for the vicissitudes of a life of struggle
for principle. As far as their family life, they lived happily ever after.
The wedding had
been delayed 13 years. When they married, the Maharal was 33, and Perel was 29.
They had six children and many hundreds of descendants, including many of the
most famous families of the Torah world during the last three centuries.
