Chapter 3
Shin

The children looked up from the dreidel. Their living room had disappeared, replaced by a raggedy old tent. “Where are we?” Devorah whispered.

“That crazy dreidel must have put me to sleep,” Benjamin said, more to himself than out loud. “This is one bad dream!”

“Well, if it’s a dream, I’m having the same one as you!” Devorah touched the furry animal skin they were sitting on. “Maybe if we spin the dreidel again, we’ll wake up.” She reached for the dreidel. It vanished right before her eyes.

“Oh, no!” they both cried.

“This dream is pretty weird!” Benjamin got up and turned around. “Look at my baggy pants and shirt.”

Devorah stood up, too. She was wearing a white linen dress. She dusted herself off and sneezed.

“Gesundheit!” said her brother. “I bet if we go outside, we’ll wake up and be back home in our living room.”

He headed toward the tent flap. Devorah grabbed his arm. “Benjamin, I don’t think we’re dreaming.”

“What do you mean? Of course we are.” He tried to shake free. “Or else it’s some kind of trick to teach us a lesson. Bubbe and Zayde are probably standing right outside this tent.”

“You stay here. I’ll check.” Devorah let go of her brother’s arm and walked to the tent flaps. Her hand shook as she parted the flaps slightly. Slowly, she peeked through the small crack. “Oh, my!” she said with a gasp.

“Wh-what’s out there?” asked her brother.

“Benjamin, we’re not in Los Angeles any more.”

He tiptoed to her side and looked out. “No way! Maybe the dreidel somehow brought us to a movie set in Hollywood?”

Devorah shook her head. “Those stone and clay buildings look real. So does the dirt road, and this tent we’re in. Everything seems old. I mean really old, like hundreds—no, thousands!—of years old.”

“That’s crazy!” shouted Benjamin. “How can that be?”

“Look—there’s a Jewish building . . . a small temple, maybe.” Devorah pointed to a building with a large Star of David carved above the doorway. “The dreidel must have brought us to a Jewish town from long ago.”

A crowd of townspeople, all dressed in linen, were gathered in front of the temple. A group of soldiers stood nearby. An man in a long, white robe pushed through the crowd. Even though he was very old, the people all turned to hear his words.

“We have had enough of your laws.” He shook his wooden staff at the soldiers. “These are not our laws and we will no longer obey them!”

Benjamin turned to his sister. “His words sound funny.”

“I recognize that language from Sunday school. He’s speaking Hebrew,” explained Devorah.

Benjamin listened carefully to what the old man was saying. “Yeah, you’re right. But how come I understand him? I don’t speak Hebrew.”

“Me neither, at least not that well. But I understand him, too.” She put her finger to her lips. “Shh! I want to hear what he’s saying.”

The old man’s piercing eyes searched the crowd. “You there, Ruben.” Everyone backed away from Ruben, who was holding a squealing pig and a long, sharp knife.

The old man straightened his back and spoke to Ruben. “We are Jews. We will not sacrifice to the king’s gods. Release the pig!”

Ruben refused. “The king has ordered us to sacrifice a pig, Mattisyahu. One of us must obey these soldiers or we will all suffer. I will be that someone!”

The old man marched up to Ruben, raised his staff, and struck him. The young man crumpled to the ground. A murmur drifted through the crowd. A few heads turned toward the soldiers. The king’s guards were pointing at the fallen man and laughing. Then they turned and walked away.

The old man addressed the townspeople. “We will not do as the Syrian king demands. If you agree with me, then join me. We will leave here and be free to follow our Jewish laws.” He turned and touched the shoulder of a nearby man. “Come, my son. Gather your family and what possessions you can carry. We must leave Modi’in immediately.”

The crowd hurried to their homes. Everyone returned carrying bundles of clothing and food.

Benjamin looked at Devorah. “What’s going on? What should we do?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not safe here. The soldiers will get angry when everyone leaves. Since we’re dressed like the townspeople, we’d better go too. We need to find someone who can help us figure this out.” Devorah pointed to two children trailing behind the group. “This way,” she said, grabbing her brother’s hand. They raced toward the departing townspeople.