A month ago I attended four large events: a wedding reception, a funeral, and two shiva minyanim. Apparently, I got Covid at one of them. It took more than 3½ years for me to contract the virus which, given my success at avoiding it, came as a shock when I tested positive.
I have been exceptionally careful since the pandemic began. I isolated myself much of that period and I’ve worn a mask when I’ve been around people in closed spaces, most of the time – obviously not always or I wouldn’t have contracted Covid. It’s still very much out there, and for those who think we’re past the epidemic and can return to life as we once knew it – think again.
As I tested positive for 14 days (I’m negative now and recovering), I’ve thought anew about the millions of Americans and people worldwide that suffered, perished, and mourned their loved ones as a consequence of this horrendous plague. I am beyond grateful for the vaccine and boosters as they protected me, most likely, from a very serious illness. Though I was sick enough, many have had it far worse than me. There was a dimension to having the virus that I didn’t fully comprehend or appreciate until it hit me; namely, I thought about what it is that characterizes us as human beings.
Albert Camus described the emotional, psychological, and physical consequences of the plague in his prescient novel – The Plague – first published in 1947 two years after WWII and in the wake of the Shoah, suggesting that Camus was really writing about the worldwide devastation brought about by the evils of Nazi Germany and its allies:
“The plague had swallowed up everything and everyone. No longer were there individual destinies; only a collective destiny, made of plague and the emotions shared by all. Strongest of these emotions was the sense of exile and of deprivation…. The plague forced everyone to isolate as individuals from their loved ones…each…content to live only for the day, alone under the vast indifference of the sky.”
Though aloneness seems to be an existential truth about the human condition, it is really empathy that defines the human being, that ability to put ourselves in the shoes of the other, to allow our imagination to bridge the chasm of separation, alienation, and fragmentation, to hone our capacity to actively listen to the stories, pains, sufferings, and joys of others without self-referencing our own stories, pains, sufferings, and joys, to sympathize with the truths of others without comparing, contrasting, and judging our truths with theirs – that is what existentially makes us human beings. It’s all about empathy.
Note: I signed this open clergy letter to Israel’s government on the importance of the State of Israel maintaining its democracy and pluralistic tradition. Hundreds of American rabbis have signed the letter and it will be delivered to the Israeli government with the hopes that the ruling government coalition will cease all legislative steps to diminish the independence of the Israeli judiciary as a necessary check and balance against the total power of the executive-legislative combined branch of the government.
To the Honorable Members of the Israeli Government,
We, the undersigned Clergy and Jewish community leaders, write to you today to express our deep concern for the future of Israel’s democracy. As spiritual and community leaders of the American Jewish community, we believe it is our duty to speak out when we witness threats to the values and institutions that form the bedrock of the Jewish nation.
Our intention is not to align ourselves with any political party or agenda. Rather, we seek to address a matter of vital importance that transcends partisanship—the need to safeguard Israel’s democratic principles and maintain a system of checks and balances.
Israel, the state that has risen from the ashes, stands as the greatest and most successful project of the Jewish people. Israel has (rightfully) long prided itself as a beacon of democracy in the Middle East—a nation that cherishes the rule of law and upholds the rights and freedoms of its citizens, including minority populations. We are grateful for the progress Israel has made in building and nurturing a thriving democratic state over the past 75 years.
Moreover, we have witnessed firsthand the impact that Israel’s democratic ideals and accomplishments have had on Jewish communities worldwide. The State of Israel, with its commitment to pluralism, religious freedom, and equal rights for all citizens, serves as a model for the enduring values we hold dear. Israel’s success as a democratic nation sends a powerful message to the world, demonstrating the compatibility of Jewish values with the principles of democracy, justice, and human rights.
However, recent proposals for judicial reform have raised grave concerns among many Israelis, and among Israel’s friends around the world, including us. While we acknowledge the government’s prerogative to propose ways to improve the judicial system, we urge extreme caution in undertaking any changes that might compromise the delicate balance of power and erode the foundations of Israel’s democracy.
Our history has taught us the dangers of tyranny, oppression, and the erosion of democratic norms. As Jews, we carry the collective memory of countless struggles for freedom and justice. We have seen the devastating consequences of societies divided and polarized, where voices are silenced and dissent is stifled. We must not allow this to happen to our beloved Israel.
We stand united in our support for Israel’s democracy, irrespective of our physical location. We recognize the responsibility we share as Jewish leaders to advocate for the preservation of democratic principles in the land that holds such profound significance for our people. It is in this spirit that we implore you to reconsider the proposed judicial reform. We recognize that improvements can be made to any system, and we encourage constructive dialogue and debate to address concerns and find solutions. However, it is crucial that any reforms be carried out with the utmost respect for democratic principles and the preservation of the separation of powers.
We firmly believe that a united Israel, founded upon democratic values, is the best hope for its future. As you know, a democracy is judged not only on the principle of majority rule, but also on the principle that the fundamental rights of the minority are respected and protected.
Our diversity is our strength and it is through democratic means that we can ensure the fair and just representation of all Israelis, foster unity and solidarity, and make a home for the diversity of the Jewish people worldwide.
We ask you, the representatives of the Israeli people, to find common ground and protect the democratic foundations that our forebears fought so hard to establish.
Together, we can strive for a better future—a future where Israel continues to be a beacon of democracy, justice, and equality. Let us ensure that future generations inherit a nation that upholds the principles upon which it was founded—a democratic state with checks and balances, and a source of pride for the Jewish people worldwide.
After a week of devastating anti-democratic, racially blind, and homophobic rulings by the radically conservative activist US Supreme Court, Justice Thurgood Marshall speaks from the grave to remind Americans about what is our moral duty vis a vis all American citizens and our legal obligation to protect their rights and deliver justice to protected classes of citizens.
To the Supreme Court I say – בושה – Shame!
“We must dissent from the fear, the hatred, and the mistrust. We must dissent from a nation that buried its head in the sand waiting in vain for the needs of its poor, its elderly, and its sick to disappear and just blow away. We must dissent from a government that has left its young without jobs, education, or hope. We must dissent from the poverty of vision and timeless absence of moral leadership. We must dissent, because America can do better, because America has no choice but to do better.”
-Thurgood Marshall, US Supreme Court Justice (Born, 2 July 1908-1993)
Introductory Note: Not only was Kareem a great UCLA Basketball star and NBA super-star, but he has become in recent years a noted public intellectual, social justice activist and commentator. I subscribe to his Substack posts at kareem@substack.com and highly recommend it. He discusses intelligently anything and everything that catches his interests and that is part of the national conversation. This piece lays out the specific impact of the Supreme Court’s cancellation of Roe v Wade. After reading it, I wondered whether the ark of history bending towards justice is always true. Yet, I also recall Jiminy Cricket’s teaching of physics to us boomers in the 1950s Sunday night World of Disney that “to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” – meaning, that the 2024 election is coming and if the Democrats are clear about the consequences of the nation’s votes vis a vis first amendment rights, the viability of our constitutional system of government and many other issues, we will elect more Democrats to the House and Senate to fulfill Joe Biden’s promise to pass a national law allowing the right-to-choose across the country.
Here is a quick review of the Jewish position on abortion:
The life of the fetus is not equivalent to the life of the mother (Exodus 21:22-25 – “Should men brawl and collide with a pregnant woman and her fetus come out but there be no other mishap, he shall surely be punished according to what the woman’s husband imposes upon him, he shall pay by the reckoning” – Had the guilty party killed his adversary, he would forfeit his life (Exodus 21:12). The status of the fetus is clearly not equivalent to the status of an independent life (i.e. the mother) as the punishment was not life for life, but rather an economic penalty.
Judaism affirms that life begins at birth, not before. The Mishnah (Oholot 7:6 – 2nd century CE) states: “A woman who was having trouble giving birth, they abort the fetus inside her and take it out limb by limb, because her life comes before its life. If most of the head come out already they do not touch it because we do not push off one life for another.” Rashi (Commentary on Talmud, Sanhedrin 72b – 11th century) affirms as well that “whatever has not come forth into the light of the world is not a human life.” This is repeated in the Shulchan Arukh (Chosen Mishpat 425:2 – 16th century CE).
Abortion is permissible when the life of the mother is threatened should the fetus be carried to term (Rabbi Yechutiel Teitelbaum of Sziget, 1886)
Abortion is permissible when the mental and/or physical well-being of the mother is in question should the fetus be carried to term (Rabbi Ben Zion Uziel – 1880-1953, former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Palestine).
Conclusion – Abortion is permissible in Judaism. Further, in a democracy a woman must have the right to choose as a matter of conscience and liberty how to proceed concerning matters about her own body, her physical and mental health and well-being.
The following is Kareem’s most recent Substack post concerning the present state of America post Roe v Wade.
SUMMARY: In the year since Roe v. Wade was overturned, Americans have been forced to reckon with the utter disaster that’s been created in the 20 U.S. states that have banned or restricted abortion access.
And things are only getting worse, Mini Timmaraju, president of NARAL Pro-Choice America, reveals on this week’s episode of The New Abnormal.
…Yet despite polls showing that abortion access has become more popular than ever in the United States, the opposition to women’s health care continues.
“The states that were the quickest to enact abortion bans are the same states with the worst rates of maternal mortality,” Timmaraju explains.
Indiana–which has the third-highest maternal mortality rate among all reporting states–became the first state to pass an abortion ban after Roe v. Wade fell in late June 2022. Other states, including Missouri and Alabama, banned abortion through existing trigger laws that were set to take effect once a decision striking Roe came down.
Alabama’s most recent state-specific maternal mortality rate was 36.4 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2018—again, one of the highest in the country.
She adds that along with maternal mortality rates, the states also lack paid family leave and “have no childcare infrastructure that are generally terrible in terms of environmental protections and clean water and air. So these are not conditions in which anyone wants to choose to raise a family or has the conditions to have a family that would thrive.”
MY TAKE: In the year since Roe v. Wade was overturned, I’ve been living in a perpetual state of shock. May Gallup polls show 85% of Americans believe abortion should be legal in at least certain circumstances, and 69% believe abortion should broadly be legal in the first three months of a pregnancy, which is a record high. About 57% agree that the Court decision was “bad for the country.”
Yet, here we are. We have 20 states enacting severe abortion restrictions. We have presidential candidates wanting even stricter limitations. Candidate Mike Pence is proposing a national 15-week abortion ban (“Pence on abortion limits: ‘We just can’t rest or relent’”).
For those actually concerned about life: the rate of deaths from maternal causes has been steadily rising for years. In 2018, it was 658 women. In 2021, 1,205 women died. That’s nearly double the number of deaths in just three years. The US maternal death rate for 2021 was 32.9 deaths per 100,000 live births. The rate for Black women was 69.9 deaths per 100,000 live births, while the rate for White women was 26.6 per 100,000. That’s 2.6 times more likely to die if she’s Black. This racial disparity may be why certain states don’t seem to care as much.
Here are the states where women are more likely to die from childbirth (starting with the worst state): Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee, Alabama, Louisiana, Kentucky, Georgia, etc. (You can see the pattern: states with poor education, a weak economy, but strong racism have the highest death rates.) Florida’s maternal death rate is 26.30, while “woke” California is the safest state in the nation, with 10.10. Probably something DeSantis won’t mention in his stump speech.
The anti-abortion campaign is the largest suppression of civil rights in the nation’s history. Women make up 50.4% of the U.S. population and still face daily discrimination that can be life-threatening. This isn’t merely an “agree to disagree” issue or “a matter of opinion.” The antiabortion stance is not based on science or logic or even the history of human rights. It’s a position that lacks merit, consistency, or constitutional standing. I know proponents of banning abortion think they’re being moral, but they are actually the opposite. They think they’re strengthening the country, but they’re weakening it. Not one antiabortionist could stand up to any scrutiny of their arguments without, in the end, having to default to religious faith.
Our Constitution protects the practice of faith, not the forcing of faith on others. In fact, we are also protected from that. It is vital that in the next election, we make that irrevocably clear.
So many journalists, historians, psychologists, and the rest of us too have attempted to understand what’s behind the alternate reality that Trump created ever since he promoted “birtherism” (at Barack Obama’s expense), questioned John McCain’s patriotism, and demeaned everyone who ever critiqued or challenged him. His lying is legend.
The Washington Post said in January 2020 that Trump had made more than 16,241 false or misleading claims as president, an average of about 14.8 such statements per day. Of course, Trump didn’t start lying once he was elected nor has he ceased since he left office. The lying continues unabated and now millions of followers believe him and/or forgive him for his moral corruption.
There is a passage in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov that offers a measure of insight into Trump’s lies and the MAGA House members’ censure of Congressman Adam Schiff last week, as well as their insistent parroting of the Big Lie that Trump won the 2020 election and should never have been impeached twice, and that Joe Biden deserves to be impeached (for God knows what crime).
The wise Elder Zosima says to the father of the three brothers, Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov, the following:
“Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself. A man who lies to himself is often the first to take offense. It sometimes feels very good to take offense, doesn’t it? And surely he knows that no one has offended him, and that he himself has invented the offense and told lies just for the beauty of it, that he has exaggerated for the sake of effect, that he has picked on a word and made a mountain out of a pea – he knows all of that, and still he is the first to take offense, he likes feeling offended, it gives him great pleasure, and thus he reaches the point of real hostility.” The Brothers Karamazov, Bicentennial Edition p. 46-47
Fyodor Pavlovich responds in a way that Donald Trump and his most cultist followers are incapable of responding:
“Precisely, precisely, it feels good to be offended. You put it so well. I’ve never heard it before. Precisely, precisely, all my life I’ve been getting offended for the pleasure of it, for the aesthetics of it, because it’s not only a pleasure, sometimes it’s beautiful to be offended… I’ve lied, I’ve lied decidedly all my life, every day and every hour. Verily, I am a lie and the father of a lie!”
I have known Zev Yaroslavsky for more than 50 years since our days as fellow activists in the Soviet Jewry Movement. I was a bit player then in San Francisco, and he was a pioneering activist in Los Angeles and on college campuses across the nation.
Zev was impressive to me then and my respect for him has grown exponentially over the years. Among the finest public servants I have ever known, Zev is not only a pragmatic can-do politician but he bases everything he does in idealism and his vision of a better world. His record of accomplishment as a member of the Los Angeles City Council and then as a member of the powerful 5-member Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors, is second to none. Zev reminds me of New York’s Robert Moses who Joseph Caro immortalized in his seminal work Power Broker.
I have watched Zev work but until I read this memoir, I had no idea of the scope of his activism and the impact he has had on so many areas – on behalf of the homeless, the environment, health care, transit, policing, first amendment rights, the economy, the 1984 Olympic Games, LA’s culture and the arts, and development of a city that never had a master plan.
Zev just published his memoirs: Zev’s Los Angeles – A Political Memoir From Boyle Heights to the Halls of Power with Josh Getlin – and it is a fabulous and exciting read. It’s actually a page-turner. I read this 350-page tome in about four days (the print is small, btw) because I couldn’t put it down. It’s that good – personal, political in the best sense of its meaning, and a veritable history of the city over the past 100 years.
Zev’s origins are in Boyle Heights east of downtown Los Angeles as the son of Socialist Zionist immigrants from Ukraine. He lost his mother as a boy and his father as a young man, but those early years, his parents, older sister (who made Aliyah to Israel) and his education at Fairfax High School and UCLA where he earned a master’s degree in history, set the stage for his life of service. Among the most ethical of politicians (he gives the title “politician” a good name), Zev was motivated by a simple and compelling desire to make the city and the world better.
He was among the youngest city councilman ever elected in the history of LA at 26 years-old in 1975. He learned the ropes in how to gain and use political power not only through the tough-knocks of experience but by virtue of his keen intellect and insatiable curiosity about all things. Zev identifies as an outsider despite being an institutional leader. Following the principle “all politics is local” (per Speaker of the House Tip O’Neill), Zev loved engaging with people no matter their station, from the homeless to the high-and-mighty, and he was fearless in engaging with his political opponents for the sake of the common good. Smart and passionate, Zev’s combination of virtues and qualities made for a natural leader. There was never a difficult challenge he refused to take on if he thought he could address it effectively.
Zev could have been the Mayor of Los Angeles after Tom Bradley stepped down from power, but he chose to run for the Board of Supervisors instead when Ed Edelman stepped down in 1994. He was easily elected. He may have held more power to do good in the Hall of Administration than had he led the city. LA Mayors share authority with the City Council and often are frustrated as they strive to accomplish what they hope to do. All Zev had to do on the Board of Supervisors that represented 10 million constituents (larger than most states) was to persuade a majority of the five supervisors to agree and then be certain that whatever decisions the Board took were followed up by competent administration.
Over the course of his many years of service, Zev strategically and irrepressibly checked off the list of challenges facing the city and county. In so many areas he led the way to positive change. He was so respected as a local leader that he was invited to join the National Democratic Institute that nurtures emerging democracies around the globe and monitors elections, conducts seminars on local governance, and helps build democratic institutions in Eastern Europe, Africa, Latin America, and Asia.
Zev is also a life-long lover of classical music, and his engagement in reconstructing the famed Hollywood Bowl, helping to get Disney Hall built, and making LA a center for classical music and the arts is also part of his legacy.
The love of Zev’s life was his wife of more than 50 years, Barbara (née Edelston) who was a remarkable woman in her own right and to whom Zev dedicates this memoir. They adored each other, their children and grandchildren. He writes lovingly of her in the opening pages of the book. When she died tragically in December of 2018 from a mosquito bite that afflicted her with the West Nile Virus, Zev called me to ask if we could hold her funeral at Temple Israel of Hollywood. I said yes not only out of my respect and fondness for Barbara, but for Zev who I consider a cherished and life-long friend. It was the largest funeral I have ever officiated. 1100 mourners filled our sanctuary and was a who’s who in political, legal, cultural, and religious Los Angeles.
One more thing that I share with Zev – his earliest years as a left-wing Zionist and his life-long commitment to the people and State of Israel. Zev’s universalism and humanitarianism are rooted in his being a Jew and part of the peoplehood of Israel. He cares deeply about Jews as evidenced in his significant activism on behalf of Soviet Jewry so long ago, and for everyone with whom he engages regardless of ethnic, racial, national, and religious origins.
When talking with Zev in a crowded room, he never looked around to see who else was present. He was fully with whomever he was speaking. Zev is fundamentally a humble and modest man though he shares in this memoir his interaction with the rich and famous, from Neil Diamond to UCLA Coach John Wooden to Dodger Broadcaster Vin Scully and to President Bill Clinton, but while pinching himself and thinking, how did this Jewish boy from Boyle Heights end up here?
Zev’s intellect and curiosity are contagious, and his passion for everything decent and good is the mark of the man. Those virtues are revealed on every page of this memoir. I urge you to read it.
Congressman Adam Schiff is one of America’s great public servants. He is a man of principle, integrity, courage, and dignity, and he stands heads and shoulders above the small-minded Republican cult followers of the twice-impeached, convicted, indicted, and shameful ex-President Trump. Those who voted to censure him have debased the House of Representatives and shown the country and world that the MAGA Republican Party is unworthy of any kind of leadership. Yesterday’s vote is shameful, but Adam is unfazed. That’s who he is.
I have written in this blog before (September 23, 2022) the following about what constitutes great leadership, and Congressman Adam Schiff embodies my understanding:
“Great leadership requires not just vision and high moral rectitude, but the love of truth and a sacred commitment to further the common good. There are times when all leaders must stand up against the crowd, take a political risk knowing that they can lose everything, power, position, and the respect of their followers. Great leaders, however, bear the responsibility to act on behalf of the best interests of the public and to set a high moral standard for themselves and their colleagues.”
Adam Schiff has done this throughout his career as a dedicated public servant, and especially so during the Impeachment Trial. That he is condemned for that by moral cowards is a sign of their moral inadequacy. People attack what they don’t understand, refuse to know, and most fear – and that is what the Republicans did yesterday.
Liz Cheney, a Republican lion of courage and moral beacon light, had it exactly right when she said: “Tonight, I say this to my Republican colleagues who are defending the indefensible: There will come a day when Donald Trump is gone, but your dishonor will remain.” (June 9, 2022)
In striving to dishonor Congressman Adam Schiff for doing his duty as a Representative in the House, the Republican majority dishonored themselves once again.
I frequently read obituaries because I am fascinated by real-life stories, be they of the well-known or unknown. That’s the positive side of the matter. On the other side and as a rabbi who has eulogized hundreds of family, friends, and congregants over more than 40 years, I feel viscerally that each death is “like an iceberg between the shoulder blades.” (1)
In recent days, a friend and a leader in our synagogue community died at the young age of 61 following three excruciating months in the ICU from complications of pancreatitis. He was perfectly healthy before he entered the hospital. Not a few people asked me this past week after he died why such wonderful people like him die so young. I’m not new to loss, but I confess to having no answers. In my eulogy, I said (in part) the following in an attempt to make sense of the nonsensical:
“Sometimes I think the best thing any of us can hope for when we’re eulogized – after all the words and recitations and resumes are read – is just to say that someone was an ish tov, a good human being.
Our vows to the memory of the deceased ought to be that they will not have worked and dreamed and lived and loved in vain, that we can take their example and live our lives as they lived theirs, in the spirit of kindness, compassion, generosity, and righteousness.
Most of us yearn for a long life. After all, the eye never has its fill of seeing. The only antidote to the pain of loss of those we love at whatever age is to keep them before our eyes in the fullness of health as we wish to remember them.
The Psalmist wrote: “At evening one beds down weeping, and in the morning, glad song.” (2) During our throes of despair as we contemplate our lives without those we love, may we hold onto the faith that one morning there will be joy again in our lives. When we see a person doing good deeds, may our dear ones come back to us as fresh as the morning air. When we observe a kind gesture or witness a compassionate act, may we recall the departed and allow our memory of them to bring us joy, for those deeds sustain the world.
As the years unfold and we look back upon our saddest days, let our tears turn to smiles of warmth and memory so that the distress we feel today will remind us that we had the great fortune, even if for a little while, to have shared our lives with this kind and good human being.
Yehi zichro baruch – May our friend’s memory be blessed.”
Mary Oliver, “When Death Comes,” New and Selected Poems
This week marks the 56th anniversary of the 1967 Six-Day War, and with it, the beginning of Israel’s ongoing occupation of the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip.
If you are confused about the occupation, J Street’s Policy Center has written a concise background brief with key information to help clarify your confusion. The brief answers the following questions:
What is the definition of occupation under international law?
Does Israel occupy the West Bank? What about East Jerusalem?
Does Israel occupy the Gaza Strip, even after its unilateral disengagement in 2005?
Is there international consensus around the fact that Israel occupies the West Bank (including East Jerusalem) and Gaza?
What is the position of the US government on occupation?
What are Israel’s responsibilities as an occupying power under international law?
What are some activities that are illegal for Israel as occupying power?
How does Israel administer the occupation? Why does military or civilian control matter?
It has only happened two times before when I finished writing and editing a book (my first in 2017 and the second in 2019), or on a much smaller scale after I finished writing and editing a high holiday sermon (far more emotionally and spiritually taxing than anyone realizes except for fellow rabbis and their spouses who have to live with them during the run-up to the holidays), but the relief and void that come in the wake of finishing a book are like nothing else I’ve experienced – I suspect it’s the same for every writer.
I have been silent on this blog for a while now as I finish editing my Memoirs that I hope will appear in the next six months or so.
I was invited more than a year ago to write by a publisher who read my translation of my great-granduncle’s Hebrew biography (Avraham Shapira of Petach Tikvah, Israel – 1870-1965), liked my writing and thought I had a good story to tell. I’m calling it From the West to the East – The Memoir of a Liberal American Zionist Rabbi. The result is a mashup of my life in Berkeley, San Francisco, Washington, D.C., Los Angeles, and Israel that focuses on the most “cinematic experiences with broad shoulders” upon which I can hang other experiences and thoughts (my publisher suggested I write the book along these lines). This approach enabled me to focus upon those events, people, and values that made me who I am and drove me to do what I’ve done since I was a little boy, and that might be of interest to those beyond my family and friendship circles.
Revisiting the influence of a number of my most important mentors and models who inspired and touched me, as well as the events that shaped me was illuminating, to say the least, and was a journey into my memories that I believe we all ought to do for ourselves, the generations in our families, and anyone else who may be interested. Each of us has stories to tell, and they are far more interesting than we may think.
In my Introduction I quote from Simon Dubnov, an early 20th century Russian-Jewish historian who the Nazis murdered in the Latvian Ghetto of Riga. He said in his native Yiddish: “Yiddin, shreibt und farschreibt – Jews, write it down; write it all down;” also William Faulkner’s adage – “The past is never dead. It’s not even past;” and James Baldwin who wrote the same notion about history – “The great force of history comes from the fact that we carry it within us, are unconsciously controlled by it in many ways, and history is present in all that we do. It could scarcely be otherwise, since it is to history that we owe our frames of reference, our identities, and our aspirations.”
This blog is a teaser before the book is published. I’ll let you know when with hopes that you will consider reading it.
Rabbi John Rosove's Blog 