Chad Gadya

Greatest of All Time

We left two days later. It was a tearful goodbye. David acted as a translator, expressing our thanks to the people who had taken us in and treated us like friends. Alexandros and my mother had thanked the people of Luz by helping out. They cleaned chamber pots, tilled soil, and helped with the construction of a house for a betrothed couple. All Kuni and I were allowed to do was pick apples from the orchard.

Marzipan nibbled David's sock as a goodbye and licked Rebecca's shoes. They both laughed and I found myself smiling at the strange way she gave her thanks. The time we had stayed in Luz did us well. Kuni's coloring had improved and my body felt less stiff. It was an idyllic place so different from our own and I wished we could stay there longer, but Kuni was right: we had a rabbi to rescue. I wondered if he felt some regret leaving, but he seemed happy as we left the city.

The people of Luz had given us thick cloak to protect us from the Siberian winter. The weather change was drastic and I didn't most of the day feeling miserably cold. We found a small inn to stay in and Alexandros negotiated the cost. The people of Luz had given us some gold to barter and though the innkeepers were surprised, they seemed seemed perfectly satisfied with our payment.

The inn wasn't as cozy as Luz, but it had running water and a microwave. I microwaved some popcorn and we had that as a snack before brushing our teeth (paying in gold gives you perks like free toothbrushes and toothpaste) and getting in bed. I fell asleep almost at once.

I dreamed of Rabbi Amado. He was bound to a plastic chair and when he looked up, I realized he could see me. "Breina," he said.

His voice sounded as coarse as the sand in the Sahara dessert. His coloring looked worse and his posture was slumped. I realized the demons had stripped him of his kipa and tallit; without them, he didn't look the same. "What happened?" I cried. "What are they doing to you."

"Breina," Rabbi Amado repeated. "You must help me."

"We're on our way," I said. "We're heading to Gehenna."

He nodded. "That is not enough."

Startled, I stepped back. "What more can we do?"

Rabbi Amado met my gaze and I was reminded of all the times I had been chided for daydreaming about my future goat farm during services. "You must make a sacrifice," he said. "Only then will you succeed your quest."

I blinked. "A sacrifice?"

He nodded. "In the days of old, when the Temple still stood, Jews sacrificed to Adonai."

I shifted. "But times have changed. The Temple was destroyed — twice. Didn't Adonai tell us that prayers would suffice and we did not need to sacrifice material possessions?"

Rabbi Amado shook his head. "Your quest will fail unless you do so."

"But what would we sacrifice?" I asked.

His eyes burned into mine. "Your little white goat."

    His eyes flashed and I saw an image of a snowy mountain. "Take her to the top of a peak and sacrifice her; only then can I be freed."

    I woke up in a cold sweat. My heart hammered in my chest as I rolled over to see Marzipan testing her head on her front legs. Her eyes were closed and she looked so vulnerable in her sleep. Emotion swelled up in my throat like the Western Wall and I blinked back tears. I didn't know what to think about Rabbi Amado's insistence that I sacrifice her.

     I laid my head back down and tried to forget the horrible dream. No matter how hard I tried, though, the thoughts chased me. I tossed and turned in bed and I was afraid I'd wake up the others. Finally, I decided to take a warm shower to wake up.