CHAPTER 6

NEAR ISRAEL, 1948

“I am so thrilled.” Sophie’s hair blew away from her face.

Samuel gazed at her in the predawn light. “I will be thrilled if your father consents to our marriage.”

Sophie gave him her sweetest smile. “Me too, and now, Samuel, we get to return the tassel! Eretz-Israel, the land of Israel, will have the blessing, the protection. Oh, I can hardly contain myself.”

“Look, is that it?” Samuel squinted his eyes and pointed to land barely coming into view off the starboard bow. “Are we really almost there? Praise God, I believe the British will allow us in. It’s taken so long, but now we’re here. It’ll be full daylight in an hour. This will be a day to remember.”

Sophie stood as close to Samuel as she dared. Her father was so protective and she, of course, thanked God he was. But more than anything she wanted to wed Samuel Orbin and she wanted their marriage to be in Eretz-Israel, the land of promise, according to all the Jewish traditions.

Coming here posed many dangers. The war had ended, but the British still made it difficult for Jewish people to return to their homeland. So many from concentration camps and those ousted by their countries had nowhere else to go.

Sophie looked around. Few stood at the bow of the ship. Most huddled out of the wind and wrapped threadbare coats and blankets around themselves. Sophie still detected little hope in their sunken eyes and frail bodies. Even when she smiled, most looked away not sure if they could trust anyone to be kind. The children flocked around her, though. Hardly anyone had energy to enjoy or play with the children. Sophie and Samuel spent much of each day holding hands and playing games with the little ones.

Sophie told them the story of Christopher Columbus, the man who provided safe passage for so many Jews across a much bigger sea than the Mediterranean. The Jews had been made to suffer and leave a land called Spain and one of those had been her grandfather many generations before. He was a rabbi and preserved a tassel from his prayer shawl.

“Actually . . . ” Sophie would pause and touch the little girls on the nose, before continuing. “It was a little girl named Lydia who kept the tassel when everything else they had was stolen. And God took care of them, and wherever that tassel was, they were safe.”

One of the older girls looked at Sophie. “We know of people that got almost to Eretz-Israel and they wouldn’t let them in. Do you think we’ll get in, that we’ll be safe like Lydia?”

Sophie would then pull out the bottle. “This is the tassel that belonged to Rabbi Liebermann 450 years ago. It’s preserved in this bottle and God has blessed it. They always arrived safely with this tassel. It has been in our family all this time, and now we are taking it to Eretz-Israel. We will get there, sweethearts, because it is with us, because God Almighty has blessed it and He is with us. I’m sure we’ll arrive safely.”

Each child would come to Sophie and touch the bottle and gaze at the tassel. They went back to their parents or whoever was caring for them and told them the story of the bottle. Many had lost one or both parents in the concentration camps. Some were only with siblings, some with aunts and uncles. Most had seen or experienced unspeakable horrors and now feared they would be turned away at the shores of Eretz-Israel. It had happened to so many. Hope was a rare commodity, so when the children told them of Sophie’s tassel in a bottle that had God’s protective blessing on it, they were drawn to see this thing.

Sophie delighted in telling the story over and over. It had not just been on Columbus’ voyage, but on other sea voyages. Ships were often lost on the great ocean, but not those that carried the tassel. As the family traveled north, often on the water, they always made it safely. When the pioneers ventured west in wagon trains many suffered attacks by marauders, thieves, wildcats, and even great storms. Those that carried the bottle, however, were always safe. In fact, it was the only reason that Sophie’s family now felt assured that they would be able to settle in Eretz-Israel when the British turned so many away. They carried the God-blessed bottle, His tassel of promise.

The tale traveled to the Captain, and this morning he’d invited Sophie, Samuel, and Sophie’s father, Rabbi Jonathan Steele, to the steering room as dawn whispered its presence. After holding the bottle and praying with her father, he radioed the tugboat pilot who would escort them into port.

“We’re coming in.”

“There are a lot of British stopping passenger ships right now.”

“I know, but they’ll let us in.”

“I pray you’re right.”

“God be praised, I am confident.”

Many ships came in under cover of darkness unloading passengers into small boats owned by people who honored the Jews, whether Jewish or not. Those who thought of themselves as freedom fighters used clandestine methods to find openings for as many Jews as they could that wanted to be in Eretz-Israel.

The captain shook his head. “Against all sensibility, the Brits prevent displaced Jews from settling in their homeland. Britain thinks it has to limit the numbers, keep a lid on the population. So many people have been turned away with no place to go, so others have worked hard to secret them in.” He paused as he peered into the waters before them. “People died, some were arrested, but many Jews made it to Israel. Life has not been easy for them. Arabs still feel it should be their land. They with their Mahdi, as they call the Arab ruler, even now are plotting against the Jews. You may encounter bombs, sniper attacks, and beatings. Do be wise. Do be careful, my friends.”

Sophie and Samuel returned to the bow. The morning dawned red and bright. The sky streaked rays of scarlet on clouds that hung out in the eastern sky. Sophie and Samuel held hands as they beheld the sun rise, a golden orb that glistened with ripples of fire on its outer edges.

“Landing Day!” Sophie’s father walked up behind Sophie and Samuel, clapping a hand on each shoulder. Both froze. Her father boomed with laughter. “This is as good a time as any, children, to tell you we must most certainly have a great wedding as soon as we can in Eretz-Israel. We will land today, and we will invite all on this ship to share with us in our great joy.”

“Oh, Daddy, this is the most exciting moment of my life.” Sophie threw her arms around her father’s neck.

Samuel just grinned, and when Sophie released her dad, he grasped the older man’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “I will work so hard to take care of your daughter and to honor you, sir. Thank you.”

The captain’s voice came across the loudspeaker. “We are cleared to dock. Please gather your belongings. You will have to go through processing. It will be perhaps long and arduous, but we have made it. Some ships have actually been blown up and sunk. God has brought us through safely, blessed be He. So, stay strong, work hard, and honor God. He will stand by you.”

A cheer rose. It was weak, as the people were not strong, but it was a cheer.

The story of Sophie’s tassel in a bottle spread throughout Eretz-Israel. The Jews had their land back, but survival was tough. The Brits and the Arabs worked against them. The blessing of God’s protection was sought after by everyone called Jewish.

Sophie and Samuel displayed the bottle prominently in their small home on the mantel of the fireplace. Hospitality arose as a natural and necessary fact in the life of a Jew. Sophie and Samuel were masters of it. Rabbi Steele had accumulated a great deal of wealth, and when his wife passed away he joined Sophie and Samuel’s dream of going to Eretz-Israel. He committed himself heart and soul to help every Jew be fed, housed, and cared for. He funded Sophie’s love for cooking, and their home was a place of caring, helping, and lots of eating.

The bottle encasing the tassel became like a mezuzah, the small metal tube which held Scripture passages attached to the door frame on Jewish homes. Jews traditionally touched it as they entered and exited a home and then would kiss their fingers. After touching the mezuzah at the door as they entered, guests would often do the same with the bottle: touch, kiss their fingers and then bring the fingers to their forehead to receive a blessing.

At least once a week, a guest would watch this ritual, shake his head, and look askance at the rabbi. “Rabbi, the holy writ states, ‘Thou shalt have no idols’.”

Rabbi always smiled and shook his head just the slightest. “My friend, the holy writ says, ‘Thou shalt have no gods before me.’ The tassel is a relic from 1492 when God, blessed be He, showed Himself strong on behalf of His people. He has done that ever since for those in possession of it. But it is not the tassel, it is the remembrance and honor of the great almighty God. Him only we serve and by His mandate and blessing we also serve you.”

At that, all would embrace, and the eating would begin. The little house reverberated with joy.

Nadir could not believe he was being given an audience with the Mahdi. His whole body shook as he walked in, keeping his head down and praying that he would not offend in any way.

“Mahdi, my ruler, we have heard of a relic with protection properties. It is nearby in the home of Jews.”

“Go on.” The Mahdi did not look up but focused on his food as he reclined on his exquisite rugs. As ruler of the Arabs in the area known as Palestine, he held great power and was not known for patience.

“They say the God of Israel protects those that have it and all situations around it.”

The Mahdi paused, his wine glass almost to his lips. His dark eyes stared straight ahead for a full minute. “So, if we remove it, perhaps this land will be ours, as it rightfully should be.”

The young messenger shifted his feet. “A correct conclusion, sir, I, uh, presume.”

The Mahdi turned toward the young man, who now felt the sweat dripping down the side of his face. “Go carefully. Is the relic protected?”

“Not really. It is on display in the home of a young couple who are doing their best to feed everyone who passes by.”

The Mahdi cut a piece of meat and noisily sucked it. He chewed slowly and burped after swallowing. “Do they ask each guest if they are Jewish.” He spat.

“No, but they all partake of a ritual of touching the relic, kissing their fingers, and then rubbing the forehead.”

“You could do that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And eat?”

“Yes, and, sir, if they do ask if I’m Jewish?”

Mahdi took another sip of his wine. “Make up a story of how hard it was to get here, how Jewish friends helped you, and now you want to help settle their land and protect it. Ask questions about the relic and get the details so we know. Go a few times before you take it, so it isn’t too obvious. Then hide it so nothing can be traced to you. We’ll retrieve it later, so we can use it to help us obtain more land.”

Her Nadir, chosen by the Arab ruler, the Mahdi himself, to steal the relic from the infidel’s home was ecstatic. “My dear wife, we will become wealthy if I accomplish this task.”

“And if you don’t. . . ” Bashra looked him straight in the eye and then down. She wrung her hands. “Dear husband, what if . . . ”

The house was plain, but warm from the cold and cool from the heat. Only two rooms were sufficient. Most cooking was done on the roof or outside the living room that held a few chairs and a box for a table. The bedroom was just a bit smaller than the living room, and Bashra knew she could bed down a few children in the room when the time came. The mat that served as a bed was comfortable and was easily moved to the roof on those beautiful nights when they loved to gaze at the stars before sleeping. It was sufficient.

Bashra walked close to her husband. “What if you don’t?”

“Do not speak of it.” Nadir’s eyes flashed, and he raised his hand.

Bashra stepped back. “Do not strike me, Nadir. I care for your well-being.”

“Forgive me, dear one. But we must not consider failure. We must plan only for success. My job will be secure. We can have a bigger home.” He glanced around at the cement walls and meager furnishings. “I will buy you a real table, not a big box, with a cloth over it. I want to do well for you.”

“You will, Nadir, you will. If Mahdi is sending you, it is most certainly the will of Allah. We have no need to fear. Forgive me.”

Nadir stepped toward Bashra, and she slipped into his embrace. He ran his fingers down her long, silky hair. “Your hair is finer than the mane of the grandest black stallion in the Mahdi’s stable. You will always be my beautiful bride. How I wish you did not have to wear your burka always.”

“Oh, do not say that too loudly. I wish it, too, but alas, I must. It is the law. It is who we are.”

“Perhaps I should take you with me to the Jews’ house and there you could wear your hair down and uncovered and pretend you are a Jew.”

Bashra spat. “You go pretend. Do your job, husband. But forget not who you are. I will not pretend for the sake of my hair. I will not defile myself by eating food in the home of my enemy.”

“Yes, you are right. However, I must. And I may have to go more than once.”

“It is the will of Allah.”

“Yes, and then we will be wealthy and never have to do such things again.”

“May Allah bless your work.”

“I must go. The driver should be here anytime.”

Bashra pulled her burka over her head, tucking in any unruly strands of hair. When she was done, she walked behind her husband out the door to await the driver who would take him near to the Samuel Orbin home.

Bashra had to admit she loved the approving glances of the neighbors as they walked by when a car from the Mahdi came to pick up her husband. It was both a fearful and honorable position to have. She realized that if he failed or displeased the Mahdi, he might not come home one day. She knew also it was rumored that if one man was eliminated by the Mahdi, the family may well be eliminated as well. Once, in a very hushed conversation, Nadir told her that if he wasn’t back by a certain time she must go to their secret place, not even to her sister’s home for there she would be found.

As teens, when they first fell in love, before their parents had arranged for them to be together, they would secretly meet in an outcropping of rocks along a wooded hill. They were able to sneak into the woods from different points and wind around to the rocks. The rocks, several feet high and scattered about, sheltered a little dug out place where Nadir and Bashra could sit and hold hands and dream and talk. They wondered if other young couples had been there as well before them. Once they kissed and feared the wrath of Allah. When nothing happened, they decided to inform their parents of their affection one for the other.

Surprisingly, both sets of parents were fond of their child’s choice. A meeting was set between the parents and arrangements made. Not long after, Nadir and Bashra became man and wife.

Now Bashra shivered as she remembered the time Nadir did not return and she thought she’d lost him. She’d gathered her few belongings and under the cover of darkness fled to the rocky hiding place. Terrified at every sound, she huddled and cried, asking Allah to protect her.

Then she heard a whisper. “Bashra, Bashra, are you here?”

Knowing it could be a trick, she said nothing and wrapped her arms tighter around herself as if it would hide her more sufficiently.

“Little Mare, Little Mare, I am here.”

It was indeed Nadir, her man who compared her beauty to the sleekness of the stallions and wild mares they watched in the Mahdi’s compound. She let out a little squeal and soon found herself in Nadir’s arms, crying and laughing.

She hoped that this venture to steal the relic would not fail. To fall into the hands of an angry Mahdi would most likely be a fatal journey.