Song of the Magdalene by Donna Jo Napoli Page B

Zealot Daniel hanging about all the time. Don’t think I don’t remember. You give yourself airs.”
    â€œI am a common Jew, like you, Jacob. I am trying to live a just and pious life, like you.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t keep him in your house. You shouldn’t let your daughter walk the streets.”
    â€œIt’s no concern of yours who lives in this home.” I had never heard Father raise his voice, but now that voice trembled. I knew he fought the urge to shout. “It’s no concern of yours what my daughter does.”
    â€œIt’s everyone’s concern when you don’t live like the rest of us.”
    â€œJacob, we don’t all live alike. Open your eyes. We share this world with many, many who areless fortunate than you or I.” Father gripped the edge of the door with one hand. “But you need not share any of your shop with Abraham and Miriam. Go now. They will never cross your threshold again.” Father closed the door in Jacob’s face.
    I ran to Father and threw my arms around his chest.
    But he peeled me away from him. “Listen well.” He spoke slowly and decisively, as though his words were the Creator’s law. Yet the tremble was still there. “I disapprove of your actions. Time should be spent in service, not in searchings or pleasures or whatever else it is that draws you. I should have stopped you, Miriam, two years back, when you started these wanderings into town. When you were still a child, under my guidance.” Father laced his fingers together tightly. “Miriam and Abraham, if you are to govern your own actions, if you are to make your own path through this life, then you must be responsible for each step you take. Jacob’s lone voice spoke today. But when one voice speaks, scores of others are in silent agreement. They don’t understand you. I don’t understand you.”He sighed. “I made a promise to Jacob tonight. See that my promise is kept, for your sake. Let caution guide your feet.”
    He looked down in silence for a moment. When he looked up again, he turned to the shelf, reaching for his tallith. But there was no need — for I held it ready in my hands. He dipped his fingers in the always ready bowl and sprinkled water on both forearms. I bowed and the fringes that ran the length of the shawl kissed my cheeks as Father threw it over his head and shoulders, those fringes without which the tallith would be unfit for its purpose.
    We never did go to Jacob’s shop again. We never even walked down the street his shop was on. As Father had said to Abraham, it was wiser to keep clear of fires.

C HAPTER S EVEN
    It wasn’t until several months after my thirteenth birthday that another fit came, a fit I believe I brought on myself.
    Hannah had woven me a long dress with many colored stripes the year before, the kind of dress I would have delighted in wearing when I was younger, the kind of dress that made a young woman feel beautiful. It had pleats, a style that had only recently come to Magdala. I admired the dress, but I had no desire to wear it. I wasn’t going to marry, so beauty didn’t matter.
    I had come to the decision not to marry purely by logic. First, it was likely that a fit would come while I was in public, for I spent much of my day in public. And if a fit came, no man would marry me. Even if I had the good fortune to convince others that fits were not the sign of demons, theywould only be convinced with their heads, not with their hearts. Jacob the carpenter had taught me this. In his head he knew Abraham was intelligent; how could he not, after Abraham had corrected him? Yet he was resolute in casting Abraham as an idiot. There was no reason to expect any different reaction toward me once people discovered my fits. So no one would marry me. How could a sane man risk taking a woman who might be the vessel of evil into his home to bear his children?
    And if by chance