The Tunnels

TH E TUNNE LS

Suzanne Pomeranz

Š1996 Suzanne Pomeranz Jerusalem, Israel TEL: +9 7 2 - 5 2 - 5 8 3 8 7 6 6 e-mail: s u z t o u r s @ g m a i l .c o m

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Part One

The Coin YARON

AWOKE VERY EARLY.

The sun was already streaming in through the east window, glinting off the silver coin on his nightstand. He had placed it there hesitantly the night before, afraid his parents would slip in while he was asleep and take it. He looked at it, thinking how well it mingled with the other coins, some of them silver and some a goldish color. If he didn’t know better, he might think it was just another modern Israeli shekel. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t quite legal for him to keep it, but Ezra had assured him that it would be okay to hang on to it just a little longer. Ezra was, after all, not only his best friend but was, at almost 13, more than a year older and a Sabra at that. And Ezra had promised to take him back today to search for more coins and other trinkets. Yaron was excited, but also a bit nervous. He had gone exploring with Ezra before, but, until yesterday, never there. Never in the tunnels.

Pulling on dungerees, T-shirt and sneakers and sticking the coin in his pocket, Yaron quietly slipped out through his window onto the flat roof of the house next door. This was one of the great advantages of living in the Jewish Quarter of Jerusalem’s Old City, the Rova, as Ezra called it. He tiptoed over to the edge and looked down onto the narrow passageway. Ezra was late, he thought as he looked at his watch and compared it to the position of the sun. Six o’clock already. He said he’d be here by now. Yaron stood and looked out over the rooftops, past the few trees and the silver dome of the mosque, to the Mount of Olives and the Arab village of Silwan. He loved this view and was forever grateful to his parents for moving here. Growing up in Brooklyn was okay, but playing stickball with neighborhood friends in that trash-littered empty lot on the corner was nothing compared to this.

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IT WAS JUST OVER A YEAR AGO THAT YARON, his mother, father and little sister, Sarah, had packed up all their worldly possessions, said goodbye to friends and family in Brooklyn and boarded the El Al flight to Israel. His parents had bought the broken down hovel of a house some years before, but it had taken a really long time to rebuild the walls, so it was only now that they were actually getting settled in to living in the Old City. Yaron’s father worked all day in a computer consulting firm in the “new” city and his mother stayed home with him and little Sarah, looked after the house and was involved in community projects.

They were really happy now, not worried about crime in the neighborhood like in Brooklyn, and Yaron was free to wander all over the Jewish Quarter by himself.

It was heaven for this energetic boy of 11 who, having spent several years already lost in the pages of National Geographic, had set his sights on seeing as much of the world as possible as quickly as possible. It wasn’t long after they moved in that he had met his now best friend and mentor, Ezra.

Born in Israel and therefore a sabra, Ezra was the oldest boy of a family of 5 children with one older sister, two younger brothers and a baby sister just a few months old. The family lived in a small three-room apartment on Coresh Street behind the main post office. Ezra’s father worked hard, day & night, as a taxi driver to earn enough money to feed the family and his mother took in laundry and mending so as to try to spend as much time as possible with the children. It was a hard life for them all, and Ezra, with his Bar Mitzvah approaching, saw the inside of a synagogue only during feast days and the occasional Friday night Kabbalat Shabbat service. His father was just too busy and too tired to really spend much time helping him prepare for this important event in his life. So, Ezra had become a street kid, wandering at will all over both the new city, where he lived, and the Old City, exploring all the nooks and crannies of this fascinating ancient place.

YARON DREW IN

A DEEP BREATH OF THE FRESH COOL MORNING AIR and listened. Now he could hear Ezra, singing as he came from the east, from the Western Wall and the Cardo, winding his way around until he reached this street on the opposite side from the entrance to Yaron’s house.

“Ezra, Ezra, I’m up here,” Yaron tried to whisper and shout all at once, “what took you so long?”

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“Yaroni, Yaroni, my dearest friend, my friend of the silver coin, have I got a surprise for you!” Ezra was almost dancing by now as he made his way up the narrow street and looked up through the glaring sun at Yaron who was still standing on the roof.

“Ezra, hush, everyone is still sleeping. Stay there, I’m coming down.” Yaron moved to another part of the roof, looked down and then climbed over the edge.

Using the ends of the rocks sticking out and the window frames, he gingerly let himself down the side of the wall. With one small jump, he landed on the stone street. Ezra was on him as soon as he stood up again.

“Yaroni, come on, we’ve no time to waste. He’ll only be there for a few more minutes and said we could come now and only now to see him.” Ezra was already pulling Yaron down the street, laughing as he went.

“Ezra, wait, slow down; who are you talking about. Who’s waiting for us.”

“No, we’ve no time. We must hurry or he’ll leave, and we won’t get to see him again for weeks or months or maybe never. Come on.” Ezra was still tugging and laughing as he pulled a reluctant Yaron down the street back toward the Cardo area of the Jewish Quarter.

Yaron pulled free for a moment. “Ezra, no. I’m not going any further until you tell me what is going on!”

“Okay, but you’ll be sorry if we don’t get there and he leaves.” Ezra was impatiently tapping his foot as he spoke. “Remember I told you that I had a friend, or rather my father had a friend, an old man, maybe a rabbi, I don’t know, but a really old, old man with a long beard who knew just everything about Jerusalem and the stones and the stories and everything. . .” He barely stopped for a breath and then started jogging again down the street, pulling Yaron along as he spoke. “I met him this morning as I was coming to you; that’s why I was late; and he said we could come, and he would tell us some stories and maybe go with us exploring, and I thought maybe you could show him the coin. . . maybe he would know about it . . . whaddayathink. . . come on, Yaroni, come on. He won’t wait forever.”

“Okay, already. Ezra, I’m coming, but stop pulling. You run ahead, and I’ll follow.”

The two boys ran along in silence for a few minutes, Ezra only shouting back to Yaron as he turned this corner and that as they made their way through the maze of streets and alleys. As they reached one very narrow passageway, Ezra slowed down and began counting doorways. When he reached the 7th one, he 55

paused and then pushed open the small but heavy wooden door. Yaron reached the same spot but, before he went through the door, he noticed a sign set into the wood in the middle of the door, just about eye level. It was a bit hard to read as the letters were worn down with age, but he could make out a few funny looking Hebrew characters and a small picture scratched into the metal-like material. The picture showed a woman in ancient Jewish dress standing next to a tree beside an ancient well. He wished he could read Hebrew better. Ezra had promised to help him, but just now their exploring was more important to both of them. Yaron squinted at the letters more closely, but suddenly, the door swung open and Ezra grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into a small courtyard. A quick glance around showed that it looked like many of the courtyards in the Old City, but there was something a bit different. The implements hanging on the walls, even the plants placed around in large pots seemed strange to Yaron, older somehow, even ancient perhaps. That was it, they looked like the pictures in that history and archaeology book his father had recently bought him. He was suddenly drawn to one clay jar that was hanging by a rope on the wall under a large plant that had outgrown its pot and rambled around most of the courtyard. On the jar was a picture of a woman standing next to a tree, identical to the picture on the outer door. Yaron was riveted to the spot. He was sure he had seen that exact jar in his book. But it couldn’t be - that would make the jar at least 3,000 years old, as old as the city itself.

“Yaroni, come on, he’s waiting in here.” Ezra motioned toward an inner door, even smaller than the one they had just come through.

YARON WAS SHAKEN BACK TO REALITY and followed Ezra

through the door into a tiny room which was dark except for one skylight through which poured the morning sun. As his eyes became accustomed to the light, Yaron noticed a very old man sitting on a low, cushioned chair surrounded by small tables and stools on which were books of all shapes and sizes. The man had a very long beard that was as white as the snow Yaron had played in during the winters back in Brooklyn; whiter, actually, given the dirty streets of New York.

He was wearing a long flowing robe and had a traditional Jewish prayer shawl, a tallit, drapped about his shoulders. On his head was a kippa, a skullcap, made from a beautiful fabric that Yaron had never seen. Woven onto the edge of the kippa were Hebrew characters, like those Yaron had seen on the sign on the door.

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The only other thing in the room was a small table on which was a beautiful, colorful ceramic tea-pot and three small matching cups. The old man looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at the two boys.

“Ezra, my boy, and Yaron, is it? Come in, come in. Sit here,” he motioned to a small carpet spread out near his feet. “Would you like some tea?” He began to pour the tea into the small cups and offered it to the boys.

Yaron took a sip but quickly drew his mouth away from the edge of the cup.

The tea had a sweet syrupy taste with a hint of mint. It was unlike any tea he had ever had before. Ezra drank his down quickly and place the cup back on the tray on the little table.

“Thank you, sir,” Ezra bowed slightly to show his respect, “for the tea and for seeing us now.” Ezra sat down at the old man’s feet and began to look through the large book on the floor beside him, turning the pages carefully as if handling something very precious and old.

“Careful with that, my son,” the old man smiled down at Ezra, “we will have time to look at the books. Now, I believe you wanted some stories about Jerusalem?”

“Yes, sir, but we also have some questions. Could we start with the questions?” Yaron had quietly replaced his cup without drinking all the tea and had taken his place on the carpet next to Ezra.

“Ah, you are the impatient one, I see, “ he said as he reached out to pat Yaron on the head. “And where is your kippa, my boy? Did you forget it this morning in all the excitement?”

Yaron reached up to his head. “Oh, no, mom will be really mad,” he exclaimed! “It must have slipped off as we ran through the streets. That’s the second one I’ve lost this week!”

The old man reached deep into the folds of his robe and drew out a kippa made from a beautiful and unusual fabric, presenting it to Yaron as if it was a special prize. “This is for you. Wear it well, but wear it with a clip to keep it on all the time!”

“Oh, sir, I couldn’t accept it. It is too beautiful, too special for such a boy as me.”

“Nonsense. It’s a kippa, that is all. You need one, and I have one to give you.

Now, take it and put it on before we go any further with questions, stories or exploring.” The old man rose and motioned to Yaron to stand up as well. As he put the kippa on Yaron’s head, he prayed an ancient Hebrew blessing. Yaron 7 7

recognized it as the blessing the patriarch Jacob had given to his sons who became the heads of the tribes of ancient Israel. He especially recalled the blessing Jacob had given to Benjamin, his favorite.

AS YARON RAISED HIS HEAD AND BEGAN TO THANK THE OLD MAN, he suddenly realized that something had changed. The room seemed much brighter; his heart was filled with joy and happiness. He thought for a moment he might pass out, but then he found his balance and sat again next to Ezra.

“You boys are very special to me and to each other,” the old man had also returned to his seat. “Always remember that. You must help each other at all times. You must never let the other fall or become weary. Remember this always, as my charge to you both.”

“Yes sir.” The boys sang back in unison. “We will always be best friends.”

They looked at each other with big smiles and clasped hands in agreement.

“Now, what stories can I tell you today?”

“Oh, sir, wait. Could I just show you something, something I found, something that I think could be important?” Yaron was standing again and digging deep into the pocket of his jeans. In all the beauty and mystery of the dingy little room, the silver coin had suddenly begun to feel very heavy in Yaron’s pocket.

“Yesterday, Ezra and I were exploring, and we found these tunnels and since we actually remembered to bring our flashlights with us, we decided to go in and see what was there. Anyway, we hadn’t gone in very far when something shiny caught my eye. I just moved a little of the dirt away, and there was this coin.”

Yaron pulled the coin from his pocket and held it up for the old man to see. “I don’t know if it is important, but it is so shiny and pretty that I thought, anyway, I could keep it in my special box just for fun, but I wonder if maybe it is important, ‘cause I just feel like maybe it is and. . . sir, are you alright? Sir, sir. . .?”

The old man had taken the coin from Yaron and turned it over and over in his hand. He rose to his feet, his eyes wide, his arms spread out in joy and wonderment. A smile burst across his face, and suddenly, it seemed as if all the wrinkles that had been there just a moment before had now disappeared. He looked, well, different, younger somehow. Suddenly, he lept in the air and let out a loud yelp. Then, he held the coin high in the air and began to dance around the

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small room.

The boys were dumbstruck and just stood still, mouths open wide, watching the spectacle before them. When the old man finally settled back into his chair, he was shaking his head from side to side, tears from streaming from his eyes.

““A AD DO ON NA AII,, A AD DO ON NA AII,, M MY YL LO OR RD D,, M MY YL LO OR RD D.. .. .. A AL LL L TTH HEE B BL LEES SS SIIN NG GS S O OFF TTH HEE EEA AR RTTH H A AN ND DO OFF H HEEA AV VEEN N B BEE G GIIV VEEN N TTO OY YO OU U FFO OR REEV VEER RA AN ND D EEV VEER R,, M MY YL LO OR RD D A AN ND DM MY YG GO OD D..””

The old man continued to mumble prayers of thanksgiving and joy in Hebrew, as he gazed at the coin, his head moving from side to side.

Finally, he looked up at the two boys, the biggest smile they had ever seen on his face. “My boys, come, do not be afraid, I am fine, I am more than fine, I am wonderful. Come, sit here, so I can tell you what you have found. I am sure of it, yes, I am sure of it.” The boys sat again at his feet and strained to see the coin as he held it up to them. “See, here on the coin, this picture. Yaron, when you came in you looked long and hard at the sign on the door and at the clay jar on the wall.”

“Sir, but how did you. . .”

“Yaron, I know more than you will ever understand. Now, tell me, what did you see on both the sign on the door and on the clay jar?”

“It was a picture of a woman and a tree beside a kind of an old well, I think?

She was doing something, but I couldn’t tell exactly what. Both pictures were sort of faded and some of it had rubbed off.”

“That’s right, my boy. A woman and a tree. She was standing beside the well about to draw water. Now, what do you see on this side of the coin?”

Yaron took the coin carefully in his hand and looked at it. “Why, it’s a 99

woman and a tree and an old well, but there is also someone else; it looks like a soldier. Is it a soldier, sir?”

“Yes, my boy, a Roman soldier. Now, look at the other side, and tell me what is written there.”

Yaron carefully turned the coin over in his hand. “It says something in Hebrew, but I can’t read this kind of Hebrew very well. Maybe Ezra can see it better than I can?” The old man nodded approval, and Yaron handed Ezra the coin.

“It’s ancient Hebrew, isn’t it sir, like in the scrolls found at Qumran?” Ezra was gazing down at the coin now positioned carefully in his palm.

“Yes, you are right, but can you read the inscription?’

“I’m not sure, but I think it says something about Judaea and the word Shekel and a date, but I don’t know if it is right. Could it be, no, it couldn’t be. Sir, could it say chamesh, meaning five?”

“Yes, Ezra, you are right. That was the fifth year of the great revolt against the Roman occupation of Judaea. This coin was minted just before Masada fell; this is amazing. Tell me again exactly where you found it. We must go there to see what else may be discovered.”

Yaron stood up. “It was in some tunnels, sir. Ezra knows how to get there.

Could we go now?”

“Tunnels, Yaron? The ones under the Temple Mount area?”

“No, sir, I don’t think so. Ezra knows. Ezra, what are you doing, where are you going?”

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In all the excitement, Ezra had risen from his seat and was headed for the door.

“Uh, well, I thought maybe, well, okay, I can take you back there, but I don’t know if you, sir, should go. I mean, it’s not in the Jewish Quarter. Yaron, don’t you remember, I said that we were leaving the Jewish Quarter, and you were worried that your parents would be mad at you? Sir, the tunnels we found are in what is now called the Moslem Quarter of the Old City. It wasn’t far from the edge of the Jewish Quarter, but still, it’s not somewhere that Yaron should be, I mean, his parents forbid him to go there, and now you want him to go back, and what should we do?” Ezra hung his head in frustration. He had taken his friend somewhere he shouldn’t have, never expecting that they should get in trouble for it. Now, this great discovery was before them, and they had to confess to Yaron’s parents what they had done.

The old man patted Ezra on the shoulder and put his other large comfortable hand on Yaron’s back. “You boys. . . Now, Yaron, you found this coin, and it is of great value, to you, of course, as a special trinket, but also to all of Israel. It is all up to you. If you decide to keep it and not tell anyone, you will not get in trouble with your parents for going somewhere they forbid you to go. If you decide to tell them, you may be punished but eventually, you will realize the greater good for all the Jewish people. You must decide, Yaron. You must make this important decision by yourself. Go now. Take the coin, keep it safe, think about it carefully, and let me know what you decide. The next time you come to visit me, I will tell you the whole story, of the coin and of the picture of the woman and the tree on the sign on the door and of the clay jar. Now go.”

The old man ushered the boys out of the room and through the courtyard to the door. He smile at them and then kissed each one on the head as he escorted them out into the street. The door closed behind them, and Yaron and Ezra just stood there looking at each other and at the coin in Yaron’s hand.

“Ezra, will you come with me? I think I need to show this to my father and see what he thinks we should do. Okay? He’ll be home for lunch any minute.

We could talk with him then.”

“Yaroni, of course, I’ll go with you. But, could we eat first and tell him after lunch? In all the excitement, I forgot to eat breakfast. I’m starved!”

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THE TWO

BOYS LAUGHED AND HUGGED each other as best friends do.

Then, Yaron stuck the coin deep down in his pocket, and they ran off, Ezra again leading the way as they careened around corners and dashed up alleys and narrow streets. Finally, they stood in front of the gate leading to Yaron’s front door.

The gate was open as was the large carved wooden door. The boys could see two men standing in the hallway talking with Yaron’s mother and father. They tiptoed up closer to hear what was being said.

“I don’t know where he could be. He’s never been gone this long, even when he goes exploring with Ezra. He knew he was supposed to be home this morning by 9 to go to the dentist. I can’t imagine. . .” Yaron’s mother began to cry, and his father put his arm around her shoulders. “Okay, dear, it’ll be okay, I’m sure he just forgot the time and will be here any minute. Yes, officer, thank you for coming when she called, but I’m sure our son will be home any minute now. No, it’s okay, we’ll be fine. Thank you. We’ll call if anything happens or if he doesn’t come home soon.” Yaron’s father turned with the police officers toward the door. Yaron and Ezra just stood there, caught at the bottom of the few steps that led up to the entrance to the house.

“YARON!

EZRA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE? Where have you been?” Yaron’s father’s voice held a mixture of anger and relief. “Come up here, now and explain yourselves to us and to these police officers. Now, come up now!”

Yaron and Ezra shuffled up the steps, glancing sheepisly at each other as they did. They stood before the four adults in the open door of the house. Yaron’s mother, even with little Sarah in her arms, ran to Yaron and almost picked him up off the ground as she hugged and kissed him. Yaron’s father put his arm around Ezra’s shoulder and welcomed him into the house.

“So, my young men, where have you been all morning and why are you grinning at each other.” He turned briefly to the police officers, “thank you again, officers, I think we can take it from here.” The two policemen turned toward the door.

“Wait,” Yaron suddenly found his voice, “don’t go, we have to show you all something and maybe you policemen will know what to do next.” Yaron took a deep breath and dug the coin from his pocket. He held it up and then handed it to his father. “Yesterday, as Ezra and I were exploring in some tunnels, we found 1122

this. And then, today, we went to visit this really old man that is a friend of Ezra’s father, and he told us that this coin was really important and said that maybe we should give it to someone in the government, that all the people of Israel would want to know about it. And he gave me this beautiful kippa. Look Mom,” Yaron pointed to the top of his head, “Sorry, but I lost mine, again, when I was running in the street, so he gave me this one. And when he put it on my head, he blessed me with some ancient Hebrew blessings. It was really neat being with him and talking with him. . .” Yaron barely paused for a breath and was about to continue, when his father stopped him.

“Yaron, wait a minute, let me see that coin.” He took the coin from Yaron and turned it over and over in his hand. “Gentlemen,” he turned to the police officers, “maybe you can help me. I believe my son may have stumbled onto an archaeological dig in the Jewish Quarter and taken something he should not have.

Perhaps you know to whom we can return this coin.”

“No, father, no. It was not in, ah, I mean,” Yaron swallowed hard and hung his head, “it was not in the Jewish Quarter. Ezra and I were exploring in the Moslem Quarter.” His parents gasped. “I know you told me not to go there, but it was just outside the Rova and Ezra said he had been there many times, so I thought, just this once. . . I’m sorry, really, I won’t do it again, I promise.

Punish me, I know you have to, but I really won’t do it again, okay?” Yaron looked up with big sad eyes to his mother. That technique had worked in the past, maybe it would again.

His mother smiled down at him. “Now, young man, don’t try those big sad eyes with me. I’m on to you! You will be punished. But right now, we have to figure out what to do with this coin. And let me see that kippa. That fabric is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Yaron’s mother took the kippa from his head and turned it around and around in her hand looking carefully at each stitch, at each portion of the fabric which made up Yaron’s new kippa.

The two policeman conferred for a moment with Yaron’s father. Yaron and Ezra just stood silently and waited. His father finally turned to them. “Young men, we’ll get to the method of punishment later. Right now, according to these nice gentlemen, we must take this coin immediately to the Antiquities Authority and let them decide what to do next. Ezra, could you find those tunnels again easily?”

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“Yes, sir, I’m sure I could. They are not far from the Temple Mount area, over near the Lion’s Gate. I found them when I was exploring in an old building where no one lives anymore.”

“Okay, Ezra, that’s good. Now, let me call my office, and then we’ll all go with these policemen to the Antiquities Authority to give them the coin.”

A FEW MINUTE

LATER, Yaron, Ezra, Yaron’s parents and little Sarah, and the two policemen left the house and walked back up the street, winding their way through by St. James Street and out into Armenian Patriarchate Road until they reached the Police Station at Jaffa Gate. There, they all climbed into a police van for the escorted ride with the coin to the Antiquities Authority. One of the policemen made a call on his pelephone, his pocket cellular phone. He spoke in very fast Hebrew, so fast that Yaron couldn’t exactly understand what he said.

When he finished, he turned to the boys, “I just spoke with the director of the Antiquities Authority. He is now expecting us. I told him that you two boys had something of great value to the people of Israel to give to him and that you would explain it when we arrived. Okay?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The two boys slapped hands and grinned at each other.

At the Antiquities Authority office, Yaron and Ezra, with the coin firmly positioned in Yaron’s grasp, were escorted to the director’s office. After giving him the coin, they waited as patiently as possible while the director met with several staff members to begin the examination of the coin. When the director returned to his office, he had Yaron’s parents with him.

“Young men. . . Yaron and Ezra.” He addressed the boys as if they were his colleagues. “I believe you may have found something of great significance to the Biblical and historical Jewish claim to Jerusalem. We will run our usual tests and call you with the results. If this coin is as expected, we will want you to show us exactly where you found it. Okay?” The boys nodded. “Thank you for bringing it in. I will call you personally very soon, I promise.” With that, the two boys and Yaron’s parents left the office and, with little Sarah, were driven back to the Old City.

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The meeting at the Antiquities Authority had taken only a few minutes, but Yaron and Ezra left elated. These best friends were now explorers of the highest magnitude, even though they knew that later on, they would receive whatever just punishment they deserved for going against Yaron’s parents’ wishes.

ONLY A WEEK LATER, Yaron received the call he had been waiting for, not so patiently! The director confirmed what the old man had told them - the coin was from the fifth year of the great revolt. Because it showed the woman next to a tree and a well and also included the soldier, it tied the 3,000 year old clay jar to Eretz Yisrael of the Second Temple Period and confirmed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jerusalem had been a Jewish city for 3,000 years!

Because of the great significance of this find, Yaron and Ezra were invited by the mayor of Jerusalem to a special celebration, all in their honor, at Safra Square downtown where they were treated to fireworks, speeches, cake and ice cream. It was a great day for Yaron and Ezra and all the people of Israel. They arrived back to Yaron’s house tired but happy. Ezra’s parents had agreed to let him sleep over with Yaron so they could continue to enjoy the celebrations of the day.

AS THE TWO BOYS CLIMBED INTO BED, Yaron turned to Ezra to say good night, “Ezra, this was a great day, don’t you think. Really exciting for me. How about for you?”

“Yaron, I never knew life could be so good - or ice cream could taste quite that sweet!”

“Yeah, me too. It was fun and everything. Heh, you called me Yaron, not Yaroni. That’s the first time in the year since we’ve been friends that you called me Yaron! What gives?”

“Yaron, all I can say is you may be only 11, but you are becoming a real man.

Only a couple of years until your Bar Mitzvah. I know you are excited about it.”

“Ezra, I am, but yours will be here soon. Do you still want my Dad to help you? I spoke with him about it yesterday, and he said he would be happy to help.

If you want, he’ll talk with you father and make sure it’s okay with him. Then, we can study together. Okay.”

“Yaron, that’s great. But let me talk with my father first. Anyway, we can start on that tomorrow; right now, I just want to sleep. It’s been a big day!” Ezra yawned and turned over.

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“Okay, Ezra, I’ll wait until you talk with your father. Then we can talk with mine. I know we have a lot of studying to do so you will be ready, and we really should work on that and skip the exploring for a while. Only, I can’t wait to go back to visit our old man. I want to hear all the stories - of the picture of the woman and the tree, the clay jar, the coin, the fabric of the kippa, and of the old man, too. Ezra, are you still awake. Ezra, did you hear me?”

But Ezra was already in dreamland, so Yaron turned off the light and settled back to dream, too, of coins and jars and old men and all the stories of Ancient Israel.

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