Moshe: The Hannukah Moose

The story of a Jewish moose who wants to be part of Santa's sleigh team.

  Moshe was tired. It had been a long trip. He had gone most of the way by train, but got off at the wrong stop and had to walk the rest of the way to the North Pole. By the time he reached the hotel, his feet were tired and the cold, wet snow was seeping in through his thick, winter coat.

Moshe opened the door to the hotel. He was instantly greeted by warm air, and two elves who each shook one of of his hooves.

“Welcome to the North Pole Inn,” said one of the elves, in a high, squeaky voice.

“What's your name?” asked the other.

“Moshe,”

The two elves turned to look at each other.

“'Ive never heard that name before.”

“Is it French?”

Moshe looked back and forth between them. It was oftly overwhelming getting bombarded by all these questions.

“It's Hebrew.”

“Hebrew? What's that?”

Moshe stifled a yawn while he tried to explain Hebrew to the elves. “It's a language.”

“Ah. I think I've heard of it. They speak it in a country in Africa. But come, Moshe, you must be tired.”

He was tired�"too tired to explain that Hebrew was not a language spoken in Africa. The elves went behind the desk and fished out a key.

“Here you go. And if you need anything, just ask. We're here all night.”

“Can you believe they made us work all night? Not half a night--a whole night!”

“Now, now Bumble,” said the first elf, “not in front of the guests.”

“Why not? It's despicable, really. The way they make us work all day and all ni--”

While the elves continued to argue, Moshe walked to his room and opened the door. The bed looked so inviting that he curled up, right then and there, and went to sleep.

Moshe woke up drowsily after a long night's sleep. He opened the curtains and was astonished by how beautiful the North Pole was. Snow was falling, and the houses and trees were covered with thick, white layers of it. He started to get dressed. He pulled on a nice suit and tie. He wanted to look his best for the interview.

The interview! Moshe had forgotten to set his alarm. He glanced at the clock, and gasped. He only had thirty minutes�"there was no time to shower, and barely any time to eat breakfast. Well maybe just enough time to eat a bagel with lox.

Moshe hurried into the hotel lobby. The breakfast display was fabulous. There were muffins, and pancakes, waffles, and scones. There was fruit and buttered toast and�"hang on, where were the bagels? Where was the lox?

Moshe tapped a waiter on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he asked, “where are the bagels and lox?”

“I”m sorry,” said the elf, “I don't speak Scandinavian.” And with that, the waiter hurried back into the kitchen.

Moshe stood in the middle of all the hustle and bustle with a confused look on his face.

“Are you okay?” a reindeer with a red nose asked Moshe.

“I'm okay,” Moshe said, “But if I stand here any longer I'll be late.”

“Where are you going?” asked the reindeer.

“Santa's Workshop.”

“What do you know! I'm headed there now. I'll walk with you there.”

“That's very nice of you,” said Moshe. And so the reindeer and Moshe walked side by side out into the gorgeous day.

“What's your name?” asked the reindeer.

Uh oh, thought Moshe, here we go again.

“My name is Moshe.”

“Moshe....it has a nice ring to it,” said the reindeer approvingly.

“Thanks. And what's your name?”

“I'm Rudolph.”

Rudolph and Moshe talked all the way to Santa's Workshop. They talked about their favorite places to visit, their families, their favorite foods and games.

“So, what brings you here?” Rudolph asked Moshe.

“I've always wanted to help pull Santa's sleigh,” Moshe admitted.

“Good luck Moshe.”

“Thanks.”

And before they could say anymore, an elf pulled Rudolph away.

“Name?”

Moshe looked down to see an elf with a clipboard.

“Moshe.”

“Ah. You're here right on time. Come this way.” Moshe followed the elf to a cheerful, little hut. The elf opened the red door, and Moshe had to duck so as not to hit his head when he walked in.

“Make yourself comfortable,” said the elf, “Santa will be right in.” With a nod, the elf turned around and went back outside.

Moshe seated himself in a comfy, red armchair and waited nervously for the brass knob on the door to turn.

He twiddled his thumbs.

He tapped his foot.

And while he was making shadow puppets with his antlers, a big, jolly man, with a white beard, in a red suit walked in.

Moshe stood up immediately, slightly embarrassed. “Santa,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, erm--”

“Moshe.”

“Moshe, that's right. Come this way.”

Moshe followed Santa through a green door and into a room with a fire place, decorated with a beautiful Christmas tree.
“Take a seat,” said Santa, gesturing to a red, satin chair. Moshe couldn't help but note that he had encountered a very many red chairs. Santa, himself, sat across from Moshe in another red armchair.

“So, I see here,” said Santa, looking at Moshe's application, “that you want to be a member of my sleigh team.”

“Yes. I do very much.”

“And your qualifications include that you are a fast runner and that you have antlers.”

“Yes.”

“Can you fly?”

“Excuse me?” asked Moshe.

“Can you fly?”

“I always assumed that you mavitamin string quartetde the reindeer fly.”

“Well...yes and no. You see, I can only make reindeer fly, and it says here that you are a moose. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” said Moshe. He didn't much like where this was going.

“I'm very sorry, Moshe. You seem like a nice Moose. But I'm not sure this is the best fit for you.”

Moshe wanted to argue. But he knew that nobody argued with Santa Clause, and he didn't want to be the first.

“Thanks anyways, Santa.”

“Your welcome.”

Moshe opened the door to the lobby, and the stepped out into the cold.

The snow no longer shined like it had before. In fact, it looked rather dirty. Feeling dejected and sad, Moshe felt a lump in his throat.

Oh no, he thought, I can't cry now. Not in front of all the elves.

Besides, everyone was singing merry songs, and throwing merry (dirty) snowballs. It was not the time to cry. But Moshe couldn't help but let one tear trickle down his cheek.

“Moshe!”

He turned around to see Rudolph shaking hands with a bunch of elves.

“Rudolph,” said Moshe, trying to look happy.

“How did your interview go?” asked Rudolph.

“Not well,” Moshe admitted.

“That's too bad.”

“What's with all the elves?” Moshe asked.

“I'm the new sleigh reindeer.”

“Congratulations. I'm happy for you.” But in fact, Moshe didn't feel happy at all. He waved goodbye to Rudolph and started on the long journey home.

His nose is red, thought Moshe, who wants a reindeer with a red nose?

But alas, Moshe knew that a reindeer with a red nose was better for the job than a moose. What would he tell his family? His friends?

On his way to the train station, Moshe spotted a very old man lugging a heavy suitcase with no wheels.

“Can I help you?” asked Moshe.

“Why yes,” said the man, “I'm looking for Santa Clause. We're supposed to coordinate the Hannukah-Christmas celbration.”

“He's that way,” said Moshe, pointing in the direction he had come from.

“Thank you,” said the man, “do you, by any chance, know where I can find some bagels and lox?”

“I couldn't find any,” said Moshe.

“Latkes, then?”

“Didn't see any.”

“You know, you're the first person I've asked that who didn't think I was speaking another language. What's your name?”

“Moshe.”

“Ah. That explains it. You're Jewish! What's a young, Jewish moose doing in the North Pole, anyway?”

“I wanted to be a member of Santa's sleigh team.”

“And you couldn't do it?”

“Nah. He said that he could only make reindeer fly.”

“That's meshugenah, if you ask me. Why, I've been alive since the second temple�"that's before old St. Nic was born mind you�"and I have never heard that.”

“You've been alive since the second temple?”

“Yeah. The old man flashed Moshe a toothless grin, “I'm Judah Macabee. I fought the Greeks, most notably--”

“Of course I know who you are! My mom told me stories about you when I was a kid.”

Moshe could not believe what he was seeing. He felt he must do a nice thing for a such an old man.

“Here, let me take your suitcase.”

“Why, thank you, Moshe.”

“And you can ride on my back.”

The old man smiled. “You know,” he said, “even if Santa can't make you fly, you've got a better heart than half those reindeer.”

Moshe nodded his thanks. But deep down, he still wished he could help deliver presents to children and watch through the window as they gleefully tore the wrapping paper off of their presents. And then, he got an idea.

“What's in this suitcase?”

“Presents. For the children in the Jewish orphanages. Santa may not go there, but somebody's got to, eh?”

“But how do you deliver them?”

“I use public transportation. Not ideal, I know, but it gets me around fast.”

“Well...what if I took you around to the orphanages? I'm much fast than a train, and I'm a lot cleaner,” added Moshe.

“Well well well, what a splendid idea!”

Moshe and Judah Macabee walked in a cheerful silence the rest of the way.

When they got to the doorstop of the small house Judah said, “this'll only take a minute.”

And indeed it did. Judah was out of there in a jiffy. H

He hopped on to Moshe. “Giddyup Moshe!”

And Moshe galloped to the train station with Judah Macabee and a load of presents on his back.