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Dec. 16, 2011
A Chanukah present
Shmeenie of Chelm learns what giving means.
MARK BINDER
“I want a Christmas present,” little Shmeenie Schlemiel said as she tugged on her father’s coat. Jacob Schlemiel, the carpenter, looked up from his Sabbath studies. “A what?”
“A Christmas present,” Shmeenie said firmly.
Jacob smiled. His daughter was almost five years old and already she had the determined look of her mother.
“And where is your mother?” he asked.
“Off with Abraham and Adam visiting friends.”
Jacob nodded and frowned. “Where did you hear about Christmas presents?”
“In Smyrna,” Shmeenie said. “I was playing in the market with a girl named Alexandra, and she told me about all the gifts she was going to get. You wouldn’t believe how many gifts she’s going to get! I don’t want that many presents, just one.”
“Just one?” Jacob scratched his head. “Sweet one, I don’t like to tell you things like this, but Jewish people don’t get Christmas presents.”
Shmeenie’s face wrinkled into a frown. She nodded, thought for a moment, and then said, “All right. I want a Chanukah present.”
“A Chanukah present you want?” Jacob was stunned. Who ever heard of such a thing! “My tiny one, Chanukah is not a holiday for presents. We Jews give gifts on Purim. Now, on a birthday, you might get a present, and your birthday is coming up on the last night of Chanukah.”
“I know,” Shmeenie nodded, “but I want a present before that. I want a Chanukah present.”
“No,” Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He returned to his reading.
“Christians get Christmas presents,” Shmeenie said. “Why can’t Jews get Chanukah presents?”
Jacob peered at his daughter. “If all the Christians jumped off a cliff, would you also jump off a cliff?
“No,” Shmeenie said. “But I don’t want to jump off a cliff. I want a Chanukah present.”
Jacob almost laughed. But this was serious.
“If we were wealthy, I would,” he said at last. “We are not. Where would the money for this gift come from? You want to eat less food?”
“What about the tzedakah box?” Shmeenie said, pointing. “You put money in there every day.”
“But that is for others who are less fortunate than us.”
“So they can buy presents instead of us?”
“No, no,” Jacob said. “For food and shelter. Some people aren’t as lucky as we are to have so much.”
Shmeenie stamped her foot. “This summer, I saw you give Reb Stern a whole bunch of money, and then I saw him buy a ball for his son.”
Jacob sighed. So young, so observant. “When I give money to Reb Stern, I don’t make conditions. It is up to him to use it however he thinks best.”
It was clear that this argument wasn’t holding water either.
“Besides, if I bought a gift for you, I would have to buy gifts for your twin brothers.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?” Shmeenie smiled brightly. “And Mama needs a new apron, too.”
“We don’t have enough money!” Jacob snapped. “No Chanukah presents! Enough! End of conversation.” Jacob slammed his book shut, stood up, and then sat back down. “You made me lose my place.”
He didn’t have to look to know that his daughter was crying. In fact, it was better that he didn’t look, because, if he saw her tears, he knew he would promise her anything. And he couldn’t. Already there wasn’t enough.
Shmeenie stood for a moment, the tears running down her cheeks, and then, when she saw her father wasn’t going to change his mind, she turned and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Jacob felt miserable. When Rebecca and the boys came home, he mumbled an apology and went to bed early.
But Shmeenie Schlemiel was persistent. She didn’t mention it again to her father, but she pestered her mother and her brothers with her idea that everyone in the family should get presents for Chanukah. They all just laughed and said no. Impossible!
“What’s so wrong with Chanukah presents?” she wondered aloud one day as she walked through the streets of Chelm. “Gifts are wonderful things!”
“Yes,” said a voice. “Gifts are wonderful things.”
Shmeenie looked up and saw Chaya Levitsky, the synagogue caretaker’s wife.
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell my family,” Shmeenie said. “But they don’t understand. They keep telling me that there is not enough money. Even worse, that nobody gives presents for Chanukah. I just want to know why!”
Chaya Levitsky nodded. “Does your family love you?”
“Yes.”
“And do you love them?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, who needs gifts?”
Shmeenie looked at Mrs. Levitsky and patiently explained. “People don’t need to give gifts. People want to give gifts.”
“So you should give gifts,” Mrs. Levitsky said.
“But I don’t have any money.” Shmeenie said, exasperated.
“Ahh. So now you know how your family feels.”
“But....” For a moment, the little girl looked as if she was going to cry. Then she composed herself. “Do you want to know the truth? I don’t really want to give gifts. I just want to get one. Just a little doll.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Levitsky said. “Do you know what they call a gift that is an obligation?”
Shmeenie shook her head.
“Taxes.” Mrs. Levitsky laughed, patted Shmeenie on the head, and walked off.
Frustrated, Shmeenie stomped her feet in the snow for a good five minutes, and then she had an idea....
On the first night of Chanukah, after the candles were lit, while the latkes were frying and Adam and Abraham were spinning their dreidels, Shmeenie sneaked off to her room. Jacob and Rebecca exchanged nervous looks, but neither said a word. A few moments later, the little girl came back with a small bag.
“Everyone, come here!” she said brightly. “I have presents for you.”
The family gathered around and, from the bag, Shmeenie took out four scrolls of paper and tied with hair ribbons. She solemnly handed them out.
As one, the Schlemiel family slipped off the ribbons, unrolled the papers and read:
My gift to you / Is love from me / It doesn’t cost much / And it’s given for free / It will never run out / Or go away / That is my gift / For you today.
You have never seen so many tears of joy in one room.
A moment later, Abraham and Adam and Jacob and Rebecca ran from the room. In another moment, they were back with little gifts of their own – small dolls made from scraps of cloth and pieces of wood. Even Jacob gave Shmeenie a small, seven-sided dollhouse with real windows and doors that opened. The laughter from the Schlemiel house that evening filled the entire village of Chelm with joy.
“Chanukah presents, who would have thought?” Jacob Schlemiel said to his wife just before bed. “Let’s just not make a habit of it....”
Mark Binder is an award-winning author and spoken-word storyteller. A Hanukkah Present! (Light Publications) was the finalist for the National Jewish Book Award for family literature. It is available in softcover for $14.95, $9.99 on iTunes and as a $4.99 e-book edition for the Kindle, Nook and iPad. Purchase it online, or get another story free at lightpublications.com/hanukkah.
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