TZI-TZITH (A Story About Hannukah)

 

By Joseph Allen Smith
Copyright November 10, 1972

 

Light, justice, peace, truth, benevolence, brotherly love, harmony, FREEDOM.

“That’s mine,” the boy said, gripping the long stem of the candlestick.

“You’ll not light it tonight,” the man stated, throwing the wax- encrusted piece of metal into a sack. “I’ll take that, too, Tzi- Tzith,” he added, grabbing at the candles. Tzi-Tzith held them tightly to his small chest.

“That’s enough,” a voice announced from the stairwell leading to the small cabin.

Captain Mason bent his head down to enter the ships galley and herded them back to the rear of the room. The boy Tzi- Tzith and the rough looking man stood awkwardly, moving from foot to foot and jostling each other as they awaited the Captain’s tongue lashing.

Christian Soontag looked away from the Captain and gazed out of the porthole in the great oak bulkhead. He could see the wind pushing the muddy river waters first to one side and then to another. He had seen that many years before in the low countries of Europe, his homeland.

“Momma,” he asked as a child, “will it snow in time for Christmas?”

Mrs. Soontag had sighed and said, “I hope not. It is cold enough.”

“How will Santa come without snow?” he’d thought. Now it was Christmas again and the Jewish cabin boy they called Tzi- Tzith was praying more than the whole crew combined, and the British warships were right behind the small American fleets.

“Captain,” said Soontag, “Tzi-Tzith has been lighting this candlestick for six nights now.”

“But it is important,” Ti-Tzith said. “Each candle represents something at Hanukah time.”

“Why?” said the Captain.

“Because it celebrates freedom!” the boy answered.

“More words,” Soontag answered. “Captain, each night the boy has lit a candle for something different. The first night was light...”

“Then justice,” Tzi-Tzith interrupted. “Then peace, truth, benevolence, brotherly love and harmony. But it all started when the Brothers Maccabee freed our holy city, Jerusalem, from the Greeks many years ago.”

Outside it began to rain and Soontaq’s eyes turned to the water now sparkling with added wet. Christmas shouldn’t come without snow, he thought, and then remembered where he was. There was the ship and the tight quarters and the new British war.

“He has lit all the candles but one?” the Captain asked.

“It is a prayer,” Tzi-Tzith added.

”Like the clothes he wears.” Soontaq said. “The tallit, he calls it with the tassels of Tzi- Tzith. Why, we don’t even know his name- - we call him what he said his clothes are because they are different from ours.

It was getting dark and Tzi-Tzith held his candles closely. Outside, the wide expanse of water seemed to disappear and the ships of the small fleet moved further apart to avoid hitting each other in the dark.

“I must give this some thought,” Captain Mason cautioned. “Prayer is always helpful--especially when you are alone and afraid.”

Tzi-Tzith waited in the galley, huddling against the wind which had suddenly grown colder and looked up through the porthole for a sky he could not see. Soontag had walked out of the room, the candlestick still in his bag. He thought about the year. He had signed onto the small ship as a cabin boy and extra hand just so he could eat and have a place to sleep. Then the shelling of the new Capitol by the British had made them all captives of a new war.

Suddenly he could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. He cried for himself and for his brothers who had been chased out of countries because they were Jews.

Then a voice interrupted his crying. “Tzi-Tzith, what is the matter?” Tzi-Tzith looked around, but he could not see anyone. He thought of Samuel, growing up in the temple and hearing voices.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Out here,” the voice said.

Tzi-Tzith looked around, but all he could see was the bulkhead and the porthole. It was completely dark now in the galley.

I’m here,” the voice said, then moved into view on the porthole. A white and grey gull perched half in and half out of the ship.

Tzi-Tzith was not afraid, just surprised. The bird had a beak and wings and dripped seaweed from its talons. He was fascinated by the silver-grey feathers flocked with dirt.

“Tzi-Tzith,” it said, “why are you alone crying down here?”

“Because the last of Hanukkah is tonight and Soontag has the Menorah,” he began, then stopped and looked at the bird. “What are you and how do you know my name?”

“I have seen you when you came on deck and the others teased you. Now as to what I am . . . I’m a gull and I live on water.” The bird paused and tilted its head sideways so the contrast of shadow and light made him more visible. A flicker of light came through and glistened off the raindrops resting on its feathers.

“It is dirty out and it has not snowed,” Tzi-Tzith said and explained that the British could not see the lighted Menorah in the dark, but Soontag had it and the Captain was still thinking about letting him light the last candles.

Suddenly the bird stood up straight and leaned forward. “Must you have the candlestick? Wouldn’t just the candles be all right.”

“I can’t do that, “ Tzi-Tzith said, but he did not know why.

“Are you afraid to let me help?”

“No!” Tzi-Tzith replied, with courage, “but I don’t even know your name.”

The bird looked at Tzi-Tzith. “Like you, Tzi-Tzith, I have no real name,” he said. “The boys and girls who come to watch me swoop and are here have never given me a name.”

“That is a lot to think about!”

“Does that make you sad, gull? You know what you are,” Tzi- Tzith said.

“But that’s not like being something special and having a name!”

“Oh,” Tzi-Tzith answered, concerned now because he too had no name. He had long ago forgotten whatever his parents had called him.

“Let’s go and ask the Captain,” the gull said.

So Tzi-Tzith got up and the bird turned himself around so Tzi- Tzith could climb on the porthole edge and step on his back.

Tzi-Tzith found the burnished feathers soft and slippery, but he settled himself deep in the midst of the smooth surface by parting the bark down. He could hear the voices of Soontag and others arguing above as the wind’s howl grew shriller and the rain pelted against the gulls down now covering him. There was a feeling of rest, as if he were soaking in his bath, as they moved upward together.

Below, the ship was a darker line against the dark water; the bird dipped and they landed near the bridge. Tzi-Tzith tried to get up, but the wind was blowing hard and something pressed him back and held him down. He could hear Captain Mason.

“I’m hard pressed to stop before we crash against the shore, mate, but the British are certainly nearby. I don’t know if the others have put to oar and are moving onward.”

“Now is the time,” the boy said. “The Captain believes in prayer, the Menorah is a prayer.

“Shh,” the gull commanded.

“If we stay,” it was Soontag’s voice, “we surely must make no noise nor allow any lights!”

Tzi-Tzith ground his teeth. He could see Soontag, who delighting in his teasing, now able to see that the Captain had refused the Menorah. It had been Soontag who kidded him about his clothes and nicknamed him after the tassels on his prayer shawl.

Tzi-Tzith jumped up and climbed down to the bird’s leg, jumping onto the deck and disappearing under an artillery piece by the rail. A sharp beak grabbed quickly at his collar and swung him back onto the feathery back.

“You’re too fast,” the gull said sharply.

“But I have the Menorah.”

“Where was it?”

“Where Soontag puts all the things he takes.”

The bird swooped up and around to the cabin.

When they were back at the porthole, Tzi-Tzith pulled at the great beast’s feathers.

“What now?” “How do you light it?”

“We’ll think of something,” the boy assured him, as he pushed each candle into place.

The boat’s movements became less controlled as they stopped moving and began to bob in place.

“What is it?” the bird asked.

“We’re moored,” Tzi-Tzith announced “and in this weather we’ll roll and bob. How do you make candles safe when we’re moving like this?”

“I don’t know?” After a moment, the bird said, “If you want, put it on my back.”

The two were silent for a long moment. Then the boy said, “Why not?”

The frankness of his own question startled Tzi-zith. “What does the Menorah do?” the bird asked as Tzi-Tzith attached the candlestick to his back.

“It announces freedom, tonight,” he said. “Tonight is the eighth night and the oil in the Temple lasted eight days on that first Hanukkah.”

Tzi-Tzith slid down from the great birds back, and the gull looked hard at him.

“How do we light them?” he said.

“With my flint, stone and flax,” Tzi-Tzith said as he struck the flint against the stone and blew hard on the red embers glowing in the flax.

“Careful of my feathers,” the bird cautioned, and whirled back to the porthole to find a safe perch as the burning tallow dipped on his feathers at each bob and roll.

“Tzi-Tzith, you must hurry,” the gull cried, “So I can fly with the Menorah and not be burned.”

Tzi-Tzith lit each as quickly and as solemnly as he could, calling the Berakhah of blessing for each attribute: light, justice, peace, truth, benevolence, brotherly love, harmony and finally, freedom!

In the corner, near the galley stove, stood a great black kettle which now showed clearly as the Menorah light increased.

And it was good that Tzi-Tzith saw it, for when the first shell landed with a loud explosion, Tzi-Tzith used it for a helmet. It fit him more like a small tent.

“You just may have wakened the British,” the gull shouted.

“Oh, what have I done!” Tzi-Tzith cried, pulling his tallit closer around him and calling on the Lord God of Israel for protection.

The gull lurched out from the porthole as the second cannon shell splashed nearby.

“You’re not going to make a flight?” Tzi-Tzith blurted.

“That’s right, boy in the name of the Menorah.

“The Menorah spells freedom in light,” Tzi-Tzith yelled as the bird flew off.

“The boy looked after the gull, then back at the stove and he crawled into it for safety.

“I am tired,” he said, spacing his words.

Outside he could hear the flapping of wings and the explosions of shells moving further away.

It was dawn when the boy awakened. Soontag and the Captain were standing above him with the Menorah in one hand, its candles burned down to their wicks and the half dead body of a gull in the other.

“How did you plan to send a bird out to draw the British guns?” Soontag asked as Captain Mason stood quietly beside him.

“I just never thought about you getting all that dirty,” the boy said as he picked up the battered bird, but there was no answer.

“He’s still wet!” he said and handed the bird to Soontag.

“Yes, and he is more the Tzi-Tzith than you!”

“But I’m not Tzi-Tzith,” the boy said. “I am a Maccabean, I am Judas or John. I am ready to fight for freedom.”

He looked long at the gull now sitting quietly awake. “He is the Tzi-Tzith, for he was part of our prayer and brought our freedom.”

“It’s time you joined the crew as a full member,” Captain Mason said as Soontag nodded agreement, and the gull perched on the porthole and blinked.

 

 

Joseph Allen Smith is the father David Smith, a local attorney. Joe has provided holiday short stories for the Pierce County Bar Association Magazine in previous publications. Unfortunately, Joe passed away earlier this year at the age of 90 years old. He was an incredible story-teller and he wrote a holiday short story for his family every year for over 50 years. He will be sorely missed. This year’s story was written in November of 1972. David spoke with Joe before he passed away and he expressed that it was an honor to have been published in the Tacoma- Pierce County Bar Association Magazine. Joe requested that Tzi-Tzith (A Story About Hanukkah), be this year’s story. He again shares his family gift with you.