“Break? Since when has your father ever taken breaks? In this world we work. After 120 years, then we’ll have a nice long break”
Madrid, Spain, Late 1400s–1500s
Aviasar and his family managed to escape from the angry mob by leaving from a rear exit, galloping away on horseback at breakneck speed. They had the barest minimum of belongings with them, and just enough money to survive living modestly somewhere else.
They traveled far away from the main city, finding refuge in the vast countryside. Side by side with other Jews who had fled the city to seek some measure of security and peace, they tried to rebuild their shattered lives. Living in a tiny hut, they were suddenly forced to learn farming skills and the basics of wilderness survival. But they were grateful for the respite from being persecuted for practicing their religion — if only for the moment.
It was a bleak day as the sun hid behind gray shadows and cold winds swept across Aviasar’s garden. He worked at the ground, digging relentlessly as sweat dripped from his forehead. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to look over his shoulder.
“Avraham…”
“Father, you’ve been out here for hours already. Aren’t you going to take a break?”
“Break? Since when has your father ever taken breaks? In this world we work. After 120 years, then we’ll have a nice long break.”
“Still, you need to keep your strength. One day you’ll be a doctor again, the kingdom will need your services. Your hands must be agile, intact….”
Aviasar glanced down at his bruised, bloodied, and calloused hands.
“Do you really think I will ever perform another surgery, Avraham?” Aviasar chuckled, a dark look on his face. “I don’t believe I ever will. Certainly not for the king. Our time in this country is limited. It’s only a matter of months, maybe a year or two, before we’ll all be expelled…. These hands are only good for planting now.”
“There’s always hope, isn’t there? Things can change.”
Aviasar looked at his son, his expression hard to read.
Suddenly they heard hoofbeats. They looked up to see a group of soldiers galloping through the sleepy village. The soldiers came up to a house near theirs and slid off of their horses. They disappeared inside the house, and a moment later screams rent the air. The soldiers reemerged from the house dragging a man by his feet. His tefillin and tallis hung off of him, dragging on the floor as he was pulled roughly.
“Treacherous Jew! Stubborn and disloyal!” One of the soldiers gave the man a kick to his ribs. They tied the man to the back of one of their horses and prepared to gallop away.
At that moment one of the soldiers turned and spotted Aviasar and Avraham.
“Ah, look who else is hiding out here!” The soldier sneered and turned his horse to face Aviasar. “The king’s dishonored physician, now a lowly farmer. Look at him now, writhing in the dirt, struggling to grow something to feed his family. How the mighty have fallen!”
The soldier removed his sword and pointed it at Aviasar.
“Just as we caught this Jew, we’ll get you also eventually. You think we’re foolish, but we know some of you still act as Jews in the privacy of your homes. You can run, Aviasar Ibn Crescas, but you cannot hide from the cross and our holy mission!”
The soldier galloped at Aviasar, sword pointed toward him.
Aviasar grabbed his son and flattened them both against the dirt as the sword whooshed over their heads. The soldiers laughed and galloped away with their Jewish victim.
Aviasar lifted himself slowly from the mud, wiping dirt from his face.
“Listen to me, Avraham.” Aviasar grabbed Avraham by his sleeve.
But Aviasar could not speak any more. Hot tears poured from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and onto the plants he had been pruning. His son cried with him, their tears joining with those of countless other Jews suffering under the evil rule of the Inquisition.
The sun suddenly broke out from behind the clouds, a small ray of warmth spread across the ground.
“Today is the 15th of Shevat, did you know?” Aviasar’s red-rimmed eyes met his son’s. “On this day, Tu B’Shevat, we begin counting the tithing cycle for the fruits that will be produced, maaser sheini, maaser ani on years three and six, and so on…. Though we cannot see yet how these barren trees can bear fruit, Chazal tell us they are indeed beginning to come, on the special day of Tu B’Shevat when change is in the air, even though the cold still forges on….
“And man is compared to a tree. At this time of year, there is a stirring within all of us. We can already begin to smell the redemption, the freedom of Pesach, the warmth of sunnier, gladder days…. In the very midst of winter, we have begun the journey of growth, of hope….”
Aviasar stood up and led Avraham to the row of trees just beyond their house. He knelt down next to one tree, running his fingers through the soil at its roots.
“Buried here, my son, is a great treasure.” Aviasar lowered his voice to barely a whisper. His eyes darted around in fear, lest the winds carry his words. “One day, you will return to this place and dig here and take the treasure. Even if on that day, I am no longer around to witness it.”
