The soft brown peaks of two furry ears popped into view first. Then slowly, two huge eyes emerged, revealing both fear and curiosity. The boy couldn’t help but smile.
“Hey, little guy,” he said holding out the last bite of rye bread he had just devoured. “Looks like you need a little snack, too.”
The small pup moved toward him tentatively and sniffed his offering. The boy dropped the bread on the ground and the pup hastily ate it then looked back at him with a wistful stare.
“Sorry, boy. That’s all I’ve got.” The reality of his dire situation settled in his mind and his stomach rumbled a confirmation. He had only a small flask of water, no food, no money, and was reluctantly sharing his shelter with a little fox. Could things get any worse?
Yes, yes they could. Images from the previous day flashed through his mind and he was reminded of just how bad things could actually be. Suddenly, thankful for the little respite of peace offered to him, the boy closed his eyes and silently said a prayer of thanks. As if in direct response to his gratitude, the little fox crept closer and settled down next to the boy, warming his thigh. Soon his eyes closed and his bleak reality softened as scenes of a familiar memory played in his mind.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, the open window blowing the blue checkered curtains softly while his mother stood at the stove, humming. He gazed at her and smiled, warmth filling his chest as his heart swelled with love for his 'Omah’. She turned to him and her eyes twinkled.
“Akiva, what is it you are thinking about today?” she asked. “Tell me the truth.”
“I always tell you the truth, Omah. I am thinking of the plow and how I can fix it. We need it to be working before next week.”
“You’re my smart boy, you will figure it out.” She came over and hugged his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “I know that you will.”
“Yes, I think I know what I need to get. May I go into town to look for the part at the market?”
“Of course. But take your brother with you. He is bored and is driving me crazy this morning.” Akiva knew that wasn’t true, but he was used to his mothers tricks to get him to include his brother. “Fine, I will take him, but he better not slow me down. I have much to do today.”
She smiled and Akiva knew that he would take his brother anywhere if it made his Omah happy. He would do anything to see her smile and feel her happiness.
Akiva woke up suddenly and bolted upright, almost hitting his head, forgetting for a moment that he was nestled in a small cave. The first rays of light were visible between the branches of the bush that shrouded the cave’s opening. He was cold, bone achingly cold, and he shivered. He longed to be back asleep when he didn’t realize he was cold, or hungry, or scared. He heard a rustle and every fiber in his body tensed up. He soon relaxed when he saw the familiar brown ears peak around the cave entrance.
“Hello, little fox. Are you back to see me? I’m sorry, I don’t have any food to share.”
The fox trotted in more boldly than before and dropped a stem bearing three figs at the boys feet. He then sat back on his haunches, as if pleased with himself, and studied the boys reaction.
“What it this? You brought me breakfast?” This must be the Lord’s provision, Akiva thought. He closed his eyes, “Modal Ani,” he said with a small bow of his head, then “thank you, oh Lord, for sending me this fox to remind me of your faithfulness and provision.” He knew he should probably pray for longer, but he was hungry and hastily grabbed the figs, tearing into the tender, thick flesh. After eating one fig and finding it sweet and satisfying, he offered the second fig back to the fox. The little pup nodded his head to the ground and the boy dropped it in front of him. He ate it quickly and then backed up, as if to say, the third one is yours. Akiva picked it up and took his time chewing the gummy, sweet fruit. “Thank you, little friend. I owe you.” He was comforted imagining that the fig tree where the fox found th
eir breakfast must be close by and could perhaps provide lunch also. Although, what he really wanted was to be back home, listening to Omah as she clattered in the kitchen. What he wouldn’t give to hear her singing her prayers as she cooked. He closed his eyes and quietly sang along with the image in his mind of his mother singing. "Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu, v'al kol Yisrael, v'imru amen.” May the One who makes peace in high places, make peace for us and all Israel, and let us say, Amen
A tear slid down his cheek, but the song gave him courage and he crept to the cave’s entrance to peek outside. Carefully, he crouched below the bush branches. He saw rock and dirt, scraggly shrubs, and cedar trees. He saw the sun just beginning its ascent toward a cloudless day. It would likely be warm soon and he was thankful that he would not be shivering much longer. The cave that he was hiding in was formed out of a mid-size mountain. It was one of many that surrounded a vast plain just a few miles from his town. If he were to venture out and climb higher, he might even be able to see his home, his bayit. But he would not risk it, not yet. If he listened intently, he could still hear the shouting, the crying… Or maybe it was all in his head, still echoing and reverberating like shots bouncing around a small room. Yes, it was all in his head. The day was quiet, except for the birdsong and the scuttle of little feet as lizards and other small animals scurried out of hiding places and began to sun on rocks or look for food. He was thankful that he had seen no signs of hyenas or other dangerous animals. But really, how long could he hide out in the caves, in the wild, with no protection? No food, other than what the fox provided him? But didn’t his people live in the wilderness for decades? Didn’t they survive because of God’s daily provision? If God could reign down manna each day, surely He could send a little fox with figs to a boy hiding in a cave. Surely He could provide water from somewhere, and protection from predators.
How long would he need to stay hidden, Akiva wondered? Even with the hope for more figs, he would soon run out of water and although he wanted to believe God would provide for him, he wasn’t fool enough to imagine that a little fox wold carry in a container of water for him to drink. He would need to take a step of faith and venture out, trusting that Adonai would protect him. He was reminded of another time when he had to be brave. It wasn’t a matter of life or death, but to his inexperienced and shy heart, it was the scariest thing he had ever done.
The most intimidating creature on earth had the softest brown hair and big eyes, much like his new little fox friend, he thought, with a smile. Miriam was a year older and was already caring for her younger siblings most of the time, which made her seem even older to Akiva. Besides her family responsibilities, she was well known and liked for her dancing skills. The littles would crowd round her asking to be taught the Tza’ad Temani or some other folk dance step. She would smile and say, “But of course, we should all learn to dance,” While taking them by the hand and twirling around till they were overcome with giggles and joy. He had known her his whole life, but it wasn’t until his twelfth year that he really noticed her. She was the first girl who made him think that maybe girls weren’t just people to ignore or be annoyed with, but maybe they were actually a little magical. By the time his 13th birthday and Bar Mitzvah arrived he had been hopelessly and silently in love with Miriam for six long, agonizing months. After the Bar Mitzvah ceremonies had been completed, he got up the courage to ask her for a dance. Just thinking about it, made him pause and smile, forgetting for a moment about the task that lay before him. Venturing out of a cave after a day of violence was not comparable to asking a girl to dance, yet both required a certain level of chutzpah.
There was no point in procrastinating. He could not stay in the cave forever. Akiva gathered his courage, then called to the little fox, “Come, my friend. It is time for us to be men. We cannot live in fear. We are either safe or we are not, but hiding in a cave is not brave.” The fox looked up at the sound of the boy’s voice and cocked his head. He then trotted out ahead and left the cave, but stopped on the other side of the bush and waited. Akiva took a deep breath, said a silent prayer and ventured out.
