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Showing posts with label jerusalem maiden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jerusalem maiden. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Early Fall Is Here!
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Paris, here I come!
The summer after
our junior year, a selected group of students was sent to France on a month-long mission, which included almost
three weeks in Paris
Somewhere
along the journey into French language and culture, a dream sprouted: one day I
would spend a semester at the famous Sorbonne university in Paris
Life,
though, had its own agenda, and the dream never materialized. And while in the
decades that followed I visited Paris France
And then,
in 2005, while penning a novel set in Jerusalem ,
my protagonist surprised me and took off to Paris
What did I
know about Paris
In Paris,
for the first time in decades, I spoke the language as I became a flaneuse, a wanderer, now exploring the
city though the eyes of my protagonist in 1924, at a time when most houses had
no running water, few had electricity or gas lines, and sanitation services
were provided by the slop wagon into which residents emptied their chamber
pots. I sat at dusty libraries and leafed through tomes of history—in French.
In 2010,
when JERUSALEM MAIDEN was preparing for publication by HarperCollins, I set out
on another project, investigating the history of a painting that had been in my
family. I grew up with this museum-size canvas and was so attached to it that after
my sister inherited it I commissioned an artist to copy it. Now I contacted
long lost cousins, a brother and a sister whom I had met only once forty years
earlier, and whose grandparents had originally purchased this painting. Raised
in Germany , the brother and
sister—now with their respective spouses—lived in different parts of France
Three
months later, my husband and I piggy-backed a trip to Europe with a
get-together in Paris
A year ago, in the spring of 2012, Ron and I visited each of the
cousins in their respective hometown, where again I spoke only French. Soon, I
was flooded with memories of my high school years when the language and its
cultural nuances had meant so much to me.
This past Fall, at a conversation with a young man who was on remission from cancer, he
brought up the question of a bucket list. “What would you do if you had only one
year to live?” he asked.
After some
thought, I replied, “I’ll eat chocolate.”
He burst
out laughing. “That’s it? You’ve done and seen everything? I haven’t even been
to California
Later, I
reflected on my pathetically short wish list. Had I really accomplished everything
I could ever dream of? Or did I not dare dream outside the obvious, beyond what
was available to me?
My old desire
to spend a semester in the Sorbonne popped in my head. At this time in my life,
nothing held me back from making it happen: I had the financial means, my children
were emancipated adults, my husband a busy independent man. Besides being French-challenged, he had always enjoyed Paris
The first problem I encountered was
that the student body at the Sorbonne that had once been so appealing, hadn't
changed: they were still twenty year olds. And a semester was too long to tear
myself from my life.
I approached my husband with the request
of a birthday gift of only one month in which I would tailor my own language
and culture program. Sure enough, a quick Google search brought up language
immersion classes for business executives, presumably in their 40s rather than in
their 20s. I discovered groups of expat writers that conducted French
conversations, and I signed up for lectures about art and theater along with
architectural walks. I would take my exercise and dance classes in French and
would even play Mah-Jongg in French.
There was a moment—turned into
hours--in which I panicked.
In today’s world of Internet, I
could view photographs of each furnished apartment from every possible angel. It
would be my home for the month, a place to cocoon alone. But that’s when
reality hit me. I had never been alone! Even in the solitude of writing, Ron
had always been in the background. After thirty-five years together, I was accustomed
to his ever-present care and friendship. Since he struggled with the same
separation anxiety, I had to keep my bravado. I forged on with my plan--or my bucket list
would once again be reduced to only one thing: chocolate….
I will be leaving for Paris in 8 days. Stay tuned.
I will be leaving for Paris in 8 days. Stay tuned.
# # #
Novelist Talia Carner lives in Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Saving Rivka
Rivka was fourteen. A Jerusalem maiden, she was already married, building a home in God's Holy City according to the mitzvah to hasten the messiah’s arrival.
Alas, Rivka's young husband died, leaving her no longer a virgin but neither a mother. She was doomed to never contribute her share to hastening the messiah’s arrival through the good dead of procreation in Jerusalem.
Thankfully, to her rescue came the ancient law that would ensure saving her womb from this fate, a law that would help her bear children in her husband’s name.
No frozen sperms in a bank. Familiar only with the old-fashion route, the law simply required that Rivka's husband’s brother would impregnate her on his dead brother’s behalf, thus ensuring the closest proxy of the dead man’s seed. “Yibum,” the rabbis called this brilliant scheme, as thus saved, Rivka would not be deprived of the privilege to hasten the messiah’s arrival.
But wait! There were problems: Rivka's brother-in-law was merely a boy of eight, and he lived in Russia, Yishmor Hashem.
Poor Rivka was condemned to a lifelong widowhood, except that another Jewish law, a more modern one, came to her rescue. This law demonstrated the sages’ enlightenment by undoing the archaic law of Yibum. According to this more progressive law, called Halitza, the deceased man’s brother may relinquish his sacred obligation to his brother’s memory—but not without a great shame.
Disdained at her brother-in-law’s refusal to impregnate her, Rivka must humiliate him publicly by removing one of his shoes and spitting in his face.
Armed with this practical solution to her plight, at age fourteen Rivka set out alone on the road to Russia, on foot and on horseback, through snow-capped mountains crawling with bandits.
It took her two years to make the trip there, and two more years to return to Jerusalem, a free woman.
The messiah, who’s forever tarried, waited until at age eighteen Rivka was finally permitted to remarry and fulfill her duty to hasten his arrival.
Rivka was my grandmother’s grandmother, the grandmother of Esther, my own grandmother who inspired the protagonist in my upcoming novel, JERUSALEM MAIDEN. The novel fictionalizes an alternate life for a woman wishing to break away from the religious confinements of her society in order to fulfill her passion for art.
My grandmother passed on to me Rivka’s determination and courage. But I also took another lesson: I stopped worrying about the messiah’s comings and goings. Then, no longer burdened with carrying the weight of the world’s fate on my shoulders, I’ve become my own messiah.
# # #
Talia Carner’s next heart-wrenching novel, JERUSALEM MAIDEN, will be published by HarperCollins on May 31st, 2011. It is the story of a woman’s struggle for individuality against her society’s religious dictates. http://www.taliacarner.com/
Alas, Rivka's young husband died, leaving her no longer a virgin but neither a mother. She was doomed to never contribute her share to hastening the messiah’s arrival through the good dead of procreation in Jerusalem.
Thankfully, to her rescue came the ancient law that would ensure saving her womb from this fate, a law that would help her bear children in her husband’s name.
No frozen sperms in a bank. Familiar only with the old-fashion route, the law simply required that Rivka's husband’s brother would impregnate her on his dead brother’s behalf, thus ensuring the closest proxy of the dead man’s seed. “Yibum,” the rabbis called this brilliant scheme, as thus saved, Rivka would not be deprived of the privilege to hasten the messiah’s arrival.
But wait! There were problems: Rivka's brother-in-law was merely a boy of eight, and he lived in Russia, Yishmor Hashem.
Poor Rivka was condemned to a lifelong widowhood, except that another Jewish law, a more modern one, came to her rescue. This law demonstrated the sages’ enlightenment by undoing the archaic law of Yibum. According to this more progressive law, called Halitza, the deceased man’s brother may relinquish his sacred obligation to his brother’s memory—but not without a great shame.
Disdained at her brother-in-law’s refusal to impregnate her, Rivka must humiliate him publicly by removing one of his shoes and spitting in his face.
Armed with this practical solution to her plight, at age fourteen Rivka set out alone on the road to Russia, on foot and on horseback, through snow-capped mountains crawling with bandits.
It took her two years to make the trip there, and two more years to return to Jerusalem, a free woman.
The messiah, who’s forever tarried, waited until at age eighteen Rivka was finally permitted to remarry and fulfill her duty to hasten his arrival.
Rivka was my grandmother’s grandmother, the grandmother of Esther, my own grandmother who inspired the protagonist in my upcoming novel, JERUSALEM MAIDEN. The novel fictionalizes an alternate life for a woman wishing to break away from the religious confinements of her society in order to fulfill her passion for art.
My grandmother passed on to me Rivka’s determination and courage. But I also took another lesson: I stopped worrying about the messiah’s comings and goings. Then, no longer burdened with carrying the weight of the world’s fate on my shoulders, I’ve become my own messiah.
# # #
Talia Carner’s next heart-wrenching novel, JERUSALEM MAIDEN, will be published by HarperCollins on May 31st, 2011. It is the story of a woman’s struggle for individuality against her society’s religious dictates. http://www.taliacarner.com/
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