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Essential Conferences for Summer, 2007 Articles: -Handwork and Intellectual Development -----ADHD: A Challenge of Our Time -The Cry for Myth -Freedom of Choice or Freedom From Choice? -Computers in Education -Helping Your Child's Teacher Communicate
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The Miracle of the Menorah / 2
One afternoon David lingered longer than usual, as he watched a barge unload its cargo of coal. It was growing dark, and the lighting of the Sabbath candles would take place in his home in less than half an hour. Were he to retrace his steps to the doorway, he could not possibly get home in time. David surveyed a dark, narrow street that cut across the old marketplace. He had never followed it before, but he was certain that it would lead him to the Ghetto wall much more quickly than his usual path. He crossed the road and began to walk quickly along this new route. Minutes passed, and as shadows lengthened along the street, David's walk turned into a run. The Ghetto wall was in sight, with the old door in its accustomed place. David's heart leapt, but then sank as a gruff voice called out, ``Why aren't you in your Ghetto?'' David turned around. In the midst of a vacant, rubble-strewn lot a group of older village boys had lit a fire and were milling about aimlessly. The boy who had asked the question now walked menacingly towards David. ``I've seen you coming out of that Ghetto of yours!'' he shouted. ``You think you own this village? Think you can walk about wherever you please?'' David wanted to run to the door that was just a few steps away, but his legs were as heavy as stone and he could only stand, still and dumb. Three other boys joined the first. ``What's the matter?'' one asked, ``Don't you talk Polish? Can't you talk at all?'' David tried to speak, but no sound would come out of his mouth. The first boy, who seemed to be the leader of the small gang, slapped him hard and David fell down. ``Stand up!'' cried the leader, ``So I can punch you harder!'' David could not stand, and the group of boys, fists clenched, their faces livid with anger and hatred, surrounded him. A voice rang out. ``Don't touch him, Stepan!'' The threatening circle pulled away and Stepan, its leader, turned towards the tall, blonde boy who had just called out. ``What business is it of yours, Nikolay, if we want to bloody a Jew?'' Nikolay pushed Stepan so hard that he almost fell next to David. ``You'll have to bloody me first!'' the newcomer said, and helped David to his feet. The group of boys withdrew, many of them huddling around the fire. ``Just wait, Nikolay!'' cried Stepan as the blonde boy led David away, ``Just wait until I settle with you!'' Nikolay ignored him, but took a long look at David. ``What are you doing here?'' he asked with concern, ``Are you lost?'' David sobbed, ``I--I shouldn't be here--late for the Shabos--not supposed--to be here!'' ``Calm down . . . Let me help you . . . '' David leaned on Nikolay's arm and together they walked towards the doorway in the wall. Nikolay opened it and David took a hesitant step within. He tried a second step and collapsed. ``Hmm,'' mused Nikolay, ``You won't be able to walk home alone. Hold on to me and tell me where you live. We'll get you back before the sun sets!'' As day became evening, the slender Jewish boy and the tall Polish youth walked together through the narrow streets of the Ghetto. Once David had to ask Nikolay to shorten his stride. ``I don't mean to rush you,'' said Nikolay, ``But I, too, must be home shortly. Tonight is the Eve of St. Nicholas and I must be home shortly to put out my shoe.'' ``Why?'' ``Because on this night, St. Nicholas, garbed in bright red, his long white beard flowing in the wind, rides down from Heaven on his swift charger. He visits our houses and rewards our good deeds with little gifts placed in our shoes.'' ``What if your door is locked?'' asked David. ``Then he comes in through the window,'' replied Nikolay. ``What if the windows are latched?'' asked David. ``Then he slides down the chimney,'' replied Nikolay. ``What if there's a fire in the fireplace?'' asked David. Nikolay was losing his patience. ``St. Nicholas is the patron saint of thieves!'' he answered, ``I'm sure he can find his way in!'' The patron saint of thieves! Although he did not quite know what either a ``patron'' or a ``saint'' was, David was all too clear about thieves. Perhaps he would one day have need of such a friend. They had arrived at David's house. Through the window he could se that the Sabbath candles had not yet been lit. There was still time for him to enter and appear at the table on time. He looked at Nikolay, his face glowing with gratitude. The Polish youth pressed his shoulder. ``If anyone in the village bothers you, come to me for help. I live on Forty Frederikoe Street.'' Saying this, Nikolay turned and disappeared, like a thief in the night . . . .
To hear the rest of this story, click here to learn more about the audio CD Interfaith Stories for Hanukah and Christmas, a collection of 3 Hanukah tales and 3 Christmas tales told by the author.
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