“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?”
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