Nous sommes tous Chabad de Mumbai!

Nous sommes tous Américains!” Thus the headline on September 12, 2001, Le Monde’s declaration of French solidarity with America in its time of wrenching agony. Our civilians had been hijacked, forced to become part of inhuman missiles. The World Trade Center had been converted into two dusty tombs for thousands of innocents and 10 demented mass murderers; the Pentagon was hit a glancing blow and brave passengers died having revolted in the air attempting to re-take a fourth pirated plane.

The comparisons to events in Mumbai are overt. Here parallel towers, there parallel hotels; here the financial capital of the United States, there the financial capital of India; here warnings were ignored, there warnings from us were ignored; here they flew in from the sky, there they sailed in on boats; here they were well organized Arabs, there they were (it would seem) well organized Pakistanis; here our response was poorly organized—and so was theirs; here president Bush’s term was beginning, now it is ending, bookending tragedy; here there was shock and anger, there there was shock and anger.

But there is one substantial difference. Jews. In the New York tragedy the murders let it be thought that the whole thing was an Israeli plot. Jews didn’t report to work that day, because they had been tipped off. Only the deliberately stupid believed the calumny. This time Jews were a target, perhaps for all we know the target, the other assaults mere diversions. Chabad Rabbi Gavriel Noach Holtzberg, 29, and his 28-year-old pregnant wife, Rivka, were killed, though the couple's son, Moshe survived after his nanny, Sandra Samuel escaped with him 10 hours after the hostage incident started. There is intense pressure to declare Miss Samuel a “righteous among the gentiles”. No less significant, though often over looked are 50-year-old Norma Shvarzblat Rabinovich of Mexico, Yocheved Orpaz, 60, who was traveling in India, Bentzion Chroman, 28, and 38-year-old Leibish Teitelbaum who were all killed as well—not in the cross fire, not with a spray of machine gun fire, but tortured to death in ways I cannot describe because I cannot know them. First the Indian coroner and later Israeli Zaka (Orthodox Jews who help to collect body parts after terrorist attacks in Israel) felt compelled to leave the room where the bodies were found, appalled by what they saw. As I write, two other Jews are in critical condition.

At about 2:00 on that pleasant Thanksgiving Day, Chabad rabbi Joshua Laufer called. He was trying to organize a prayer service for the hostages. I asked “What time?” and he said “4:40.” Our company was due at 4:30. But I said that we’d pray at home. As family and our guests sat at our groaning table, I distributed yarmulkes and asked my son, a fifth year cantorial student, to lead us in a prayer for hostages. He chanted Psalm 130 in Hebrew and then translated it: a truncated version follows:

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord!
Oh Lord, hear my cry!
Let Your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
It is He who will redeem Israel from all their iniquities.

But while I heard those words of supplication, I was thinking others about the Deccan Mujahideen or Lashkar-e-Taiba or whoever it was that decided to slaughter innocent men, women, and children. It’s from another Psalm, number 94, not one of my favorites, normally, but parts of it seemed more than appropriate at the time: “God of retribution, Lord, God of retribution, appear! Rise up, judge of the earth, give the arrogant their deserts! How long shall the wicked exult, shall they utter insolent speech, shall all evildoers vaunt themselves? They crush your people, O Lord, they afflict Your very own; they kill the widow and the stranger; they murder the fatherless, thinking, ‘The Lord does not see it, the God of Jacob does not pay heed.’ Take heed, you most brutish people; fools—when will you get wisdom? Shall He who implants the ear not hear, He who forms the eye not see?”

The previous Shabbat the young Mumbai rabbi had been talking about the humane slaughter of animals Jewish law demands. The irony? Jews slaughter animals humanely, but the animals of the Deccan Mujahideen slaughter Jewish human beings by torturing them to death. “God of retribution, Lord, God of retribution, appear! Rise up, Judge of the earth, give the arrogant their deserts!”

Nous sommes tous Chabad de Mumbai!

A History Lesson: One we hope won't be repeated

Last Shabbat I was reminded of how American and how Jewish I am. In schul we read of the death of Sarah, first of the matriarchs. We also commemorated the 45th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Ask any person of a certain age (my age) if they remember where they were and you will get a stream of reminiscence. I was just coming out of an art history exam, thinking about going home for Thanksgiving; I overheard a couple of other students talking about presidents elected in years ending in zero dying in office and wondered why they were bandying about that old chestnut. Moments later I knew.

In my lifetime’s memory, I can’t think of a better, certainly not a more inspiring president than JFK whose words were eloquent, whose public actions were on the mark, whose wife added grace and charm to the stodginess of Washington. If things work out as we hope they will, now my children will have the experience of a Kennedy-like president in the White House—a man whose words are eloquent, whose public actions are on the mark, whose wife will add grace and charm to the stodginess of Washington.

At our house we commemorate the mournful event in Dallas as we always do, with song and quotation. We began with a toast made over Jameson Irish whisky, and sang,

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must abide.

One guest rose to recite a line from Edward Everett, the other speaker at the dedication of the Gettysburg cemetery and now inscribed on the Rhode Island World War II monument. “No lapse of time, no distance of space, shall cause you to be forgotten.” Then, unbidden lines from a poem I’d memorized in 7th grade came to mind. It’s from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “Decoration Day” a stanza of which seemed appropriate. From Jameson affected mind to quivering lips it passed, including this stanza:

Rest, comrade, rest and sleep!
The thoughts of men shall be,
As sentinels to keep
Your rest, from danger, free.

I don’t know if this will resonate with many, but two historical events, I hope not precedents, intrude into my mind with nightmare vividness. Briefly in 1618 there was a king and queen of Bohemia, Frederick and his English wife Elizabeth who were of the same lofty plane as the Kennedys and the Obamas. So gracious were they, so open to the arts and sciences that this so-called Winter King—for so brief was his reign—was a foretaste of last century’s Prague Spring. But as in 1968, so in 1619 the forces of repressive reaction drove them from Prague and restored unimaginative conformity, while simultaneously ushering in the Thirty Years’ War. Another historical model: The Gracchi, two brothers in second century BCE Rome, children of wealth and privilege who objected to the outsourcing of jobs (importation of slaves) and importing of cheap products (grain which came virtually free into Rome from conquered provinces) and the displacement of the small farmers who could not compete, their lands snatched up by wealthy aristocrats for a song to grow not wheat but olives and grapes—and then when there was no Italian grain the price of the imported stuff went sky high. The Gracchi sought to curb these abuses by, yes, by spreading the wealth, by limiting the size of the great estates and restoring to the displaced farmers new lands confiscated from those who had taken advantage of their poverty in the first place. Naturally the forces of law and order (yes, Virginia, I am being sarcastic) took matters into their own hands and both brothers in their turn were brutally assassinated. John and Bobby were their modern day counterparts. Those who know me know that I don’t actually pray. Usually. But this I do pray—that the Secret Service does its job. The brothers Gracchi and Kennedy were sacrifices enough.

As you read this, Thanksgiving will have been and gone. I hope it, the quintessential New England holiday, the holiday that doesn’t exclude Jews was a joyous one. Already we are being bombarded with Christmas music and decorations, but with the economy so bad and getting worse, who can blame retailers for rushing the season. So, in that spirit, though to me as I write this it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, Happy Hannukah to all, and to all a good 2009.

The Party

On Tuesday we woke early hoping to beat the crowd at the Francis J. Varieur Elementary School where we vote. By the time I arrived it was necessary to stand beyond the outer door—on a beautiful autumn morning, chatting companionably with neighbors and strangers. Promptly at 7:00 we were allowed into the gym; I stood on the R-Z line, took my ballot, walked to an open booth and completed broken arrows with a felt-tipped pen. I voted for the Irish guy—O’Bama, (I was number 37 that morning to cast my vote) and left the building at 7:15. Feeling patriotically uplifted I drove to school where the pro-McCain people were dourly looking at the latest polls, wondering if they could hold the states W. took in ’04 while the pro-Barack throng nervously asked of each other, “How will they steal it from us this time?”

The rest of the day dragged on and on and on and on. Finally it was time to go home to the hopefully celebratory party we’d arranged for some friends, fifteen of us, armed with polling statistics and as each state was reported we checked to see if it was expected for this candidate or that. We ate and swigged and ate some more, occasionally engorging something recognizable as part of a legitimate food group other than chazerie. Swing states were coming in remarkably slowly. Finally Pennsylvania was awarded to Barack, greeted by whoops and a hollers and shouts of “That’s it, that’s it,” to which others said, nervously, “No, not yet, let’s not put a kenyna hura on this.” But then Ohio was reported solidly in Barack’s camp! By the time the networks proclaimed the winner, shortly after 11:00, we had just heard that Virginia, where my son Sam had been working on the campaign since the summer, had come in for Obama.

We cheered, popped the corks off bottles of champagne, and spontaneously burst into song—first “God Bless America/Land that I love/Stand beside her, and guide her/Thru the night with a light from above./From the mountains, to the prairies/To the oceans, white with foam…../God bless America/My home sweet home” and then a modified version of a song that had been going through my head all day—“We have overcome/We have overcome/We have overcome, today/Oh, deep in my heart/I did believe/We would overcome, someday.” We drank to our healths, and to Obama’s, and to the health of the United States. We felt as though America had done something good and noble that day. Tears flowed as freely as the bubbly. I called Sam and shouted into his voicemail, “You did it, you did it, you did it!” My wife and three others in the room took credit for New Hampshire, the swing state they drove up to last weekend to knock on doors and speak to undecideds. It was a wonderful night. Those of us who proudly call ourselves liberals know that we’ll face our comeupance in some future election, but tonight was ours and we savored the feeling of triumph.

McCain made a graciouis and conciliatory concession speech, but I was bothered by two things—while the Democrats had planned their victory party out in the park and open to all, the Republicans met in an exclusive hotel (I’ve seen it; it’s gorgeous) by invitation only. (Someone at my house commented that this was a microcosm of the difference between the parties.) The other grouse was in his reflection that “This is an historic election, and I recognize the special significance it has for African-Americans and for the special pride that must be theirs tonight.” But as I heard these words I immediately thought, “and white people too.” Without an overwhelming number of people of European descent voting for Obama, this political miracle could not have taken place. It was a multi-racial victory, a victory for America, not a victory for black people only. We did this thing also. My pro-McCain students are proud to have been alive when America broke the color barrier—they just wish the black man had different policies. I’m glad he doesn’t.

And so, we enter a new era. Both McCain and Obama made the same point. It’s time to put the bitterness behind and to work together instead to solve the myriad problems that confront the nation. In a way, winning the election was the easy part; now comes the tough work of reconstructing a viable economy and finding Osama bin Laden, hidden in his cave, so long ignored.

Election is not a choice between good and evil

In a few days we will have a choice between young and old; Keynesian trickle up, and supply side/trickle down; between a Harvard Law Magna Cum Laude and a Naval Academy legacy who graduated 894th out of a class of 899. One wants to discontinue the war in Iraq, the other wants to fight on (and on and on) until victory. Both men are honorable at their cores; this is not a Zoroastrian contest between good and evil; each has erred and is willing to admit it.

We have the opportunity, 45 years after Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech to put a black man in the White House. Just think of that. In August 1963 Dr. King referred to Negroes as victims of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality, their bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, not being able to gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. Their basic mobility could be only from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. Their children were stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating “For Whites Only”. “We will not be satisfied,” he thundered magisterially, “until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

That time is almost here. America now treats its African American citizens with the dignity they deserve. Hillary Clinton’s supporters were convinced that it was a woman’s turn to be president, and they were almost right. The representative of the other oppressed group won the day this time. There will be a woman president elected; it is a consummation devoutly to be wished—but apparently it’s the black man’s turn first. I can’t explain it; I don’t justify it, but it is. We cannot turn away from the opportunity to elevate America, to make King’s dream and ours, a reality.

Anticipating losing, McCain and his running mate Sarah Palin or their surrogates have begun to hurl charges at Obama. “He’s a Socialist!” In fact, he’s not, nor is it illegal. I’ve just checked the Constitution. “He’s a Muslim!” In fact, he’s not, and it’s not illegal. I’ve just checked the Constitution, again. “He attended Jeremiah Wright’s church for 20+ years!” Yes, that’s true, but it’s neither illegal nor relevant. McCain deserted his wife for his paramour 20 years ago. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the approach to the economy; what matters is inspiring hope in a forlorn nation. John McCain, for all his service to the nation, is of the past; he would have made a terrific candidate in 2000 but of the four candidates running, surely it will be he to whom America first tearfully bids heartfelt thanks for his life and career. And then we’d get Sarah Palin. She wasn’t McCane’s first choice; Lieberman was, but the party bosses reined in their maverick and so he picked Palin, a woman with whom he’d had a total of three hours of conversation. When he was forced to give in and accept the inevitable “he was furious,” according to one of his advisors as quoted in the October 27th New Yorker. “He was pissed. It wasn’t what he wanted.” It’s not what any reasonable person wants—just ask conservative columnists David Brooks, Charles Krauthammer and George Will, all of whom have rejected her as presidential. And yet if the old man wins and dies, she’s who we get.

McCain suffers from Stockholm Syndrome. In 1973 hostages taken in an aborted bank robbery, held captive for six days, actually tried to help the robbers when the police finally broke in and afterwards refused to testify against them. Back in 2000 McCain was running for the Republican Party’s nomination against Governor George Bush. After losing badly in Iowa he beat him in New Hampshire and Carl Rove’s gloves came off. The people of South Carolina were bombarded with innuendo and out-right lies that McCain had fathered an illegitimate black baby. Illogically enough he was simultaneously branded a “fag” in flyers sent to churches. In South Carolina, remember! He went down to defeat then, and what is he doing now? Adopting the techniques of his captors. Lies and innuendos, the same sort of thing that cost him 2000. A McCain rally in North Carolina began with this introduction—not by the candidate himself—“Liberals hate real Americans that work and accomplish and achieve and believe in God.” People in Ohio were told that Obama didn’t go to Hawaii to be with his ailing grandmother but to destroy evidence that he’s not really an American citizen. It’s a pity; McCain’s not a bad man; he’s just a man behaving badly. Desperation will do that to some people.

No-no's for nice Jewish boys

There are several things not suitable for nice Jewish boys. Somewhere on that list will be found becoming a tyrant, but even higher up is believing that the earth is the center of the universe because for thousands of years that’s what people knew to be true.

Take the first no-no. Americans (I use my students as exemplars) often conflate the words “tyrant” and “dictator,” an easy mistake as both are loathsome. But like so many things the terms (which go back to the ancient world) mean two very different things. Tyrant is the older term. In Ancient Athens, for example, democracy led to chaos. Parties could not agree, law and order broke down, the economy was in a state of collapse. Into this chaos emerged a man with the unfortunate name of Pisistratus (you can only begin to imagine how my students have mangled that moniker on their essay exams). He said, in effect, give me all power and I will resolve the crisis. No more duly elected officials. I will hold power indefinitely and promise that in return for you liberties I will restore law and order and improve the economy. And he came through. After seizing the reins of government he ordered building on a massive scale which beautified the city and employed the workers. His police enforced the law. Everybody was happy. Until they weren’t, and he was overthrown. But then, not content to retire to his estates, he hired a beautiful statuesque woman who rode into town on a magnificent chariot declaring herself to be the goddess Athena and demanded that Pisistratus be restored to power. Sigh; he was; the gullible were overawed, as often is the case.

A dictator does not seize power unlawfully, not in ancient Rome, anyway. There, when things were darkest, when the enemy was at the gates or the people were riotous, the Senate could appoint one person, called a dictator, to have all power for six months to resolve the crisis, at the end of which he would surrender his extraordinary power, be tried and either rewarded or punished. (In answer to your unstated question, yes, towards the end, dictators didn’t surrender their power and the Republic collapsed.)

In New York City, of which your faithful correspondent is a native son, the people voted for term limits a few years ago. Mayors could be elected twice, then no more. Now Mayor Michael Bloomberg has announced that he will propose that the law be amended to allow current incumbents (not future ones) to seek a third term. After all, the City and the nation are in economic crises. Who better than he, financial genius that he undoubtedly is, to resolve matters? But there’s that pesky term limits law. So… Change the rules! In this way tyrants are born. Not Bloomberg, but those who follow his example. Amazingly (to me) the liberal leaning Times, the conservative Daily News and the reactionary Post support the power grab. It’s as though the goddess Athena had descended on their board rooms and told them what to write.

As to the Jew who declares that the earth is the center of the universe and defends this by pointing to all the scientific texts and philosophers who ever since Aristotle have maintained the obvious truth of this, I must confess, I made him up. I do have a colleague, however, who has made the same sort of assertion about prayer. Those who know me know that I don’t pray, exactly; I go to schul and sometimes sing, and I begin Friday nights by saying Kiddush after my wife has lit candles, but prayer? No. I figure HaShem isn’t into hypocrisy and so those who don’t believe in the efficacy of prayer shouldn’t actually pray. But my colleague insists that in the High Holy Days season is a moment for prayer (OK, no problem there) but then he continues that we can be sure of this “because our forebears told us so.” Whoa! This is proof? He also contends that prayer matters. “How can we be sure…? Again, there is a simple answer: The Torah tell us so. God… taught us how to pray for repentance and forgiveness.” Very interesting. Athena taught the Athenians how to govern themselves. Do we believe that? Aristotle and all the wise men taught us that the sun revolves around the earth. Do we believe that? Hinduism is at least as old as Judaism and in the Bhagaved Gita (ca. 500 BCE) Krishna taught Arjuna (and by extension all of us) that reincarnation and caste are the ways of the gods. Do we believe that just because it’s in the ancient holy books and taught by the Brahmins?

Let us pray: “Dear Lord, give us wisdom and not reliance.”

On Bailing out Fat Cats and other atrocities

• Golly Gee Willikers, haverim, the investment bankers who have received such tax largesse from the Bush administration, who have misdirected our economy from one that’s productive into one service-based now need us little-folk to bail them out. If we don’t we are threatened with depression on world-wide scale. $700,000,000,000. For openers—and Congress can’t ask who is to get how much? This is supposed to save their hides after they’ve flayed ours. And the money is somehow going to trickle down to those of us who had nothing to do with the melt-down but are its victims. What a country!

•The Red Sox have the second highest payroll in Major League Baseball; no wonder they ended up second in the A.L. East. Ah, but the odd thing is that the team that wound up in first has the lowest payroll in the Majors. I root for the Red Sox with more fervor than for anything else secular, but as long as the team made the playoffs I’m not unhappy that the Rays finished first. It’s a tale out of a child’s morality story. If the Old Town Team doesn’t make it to the top, I’m rooting for them—and there are two Rhode Islanders on the team. (Jews? I’m thinking not, but maybe…)

• Seven-hundred-billion-dollars? For openers?

• How come when we have a leader whose poll numbers are lower than his shoe size, who gets us embroiled in a war-of-choice which is a no-winner, and racked with scandal, we can’t just get rid of him the way Israel disposed of Olmert. Oh, I remember, our founding fathers, the same bewigged, knickers-wearing elitists who allowed slavery to continue, who created equal senators for each state (California with its population in excess of thirty-six and a half million, and Wyoming—with its population of hardly anyone, each gets two) prevented that. They were a tad afraid of democracy, you see.

• Remember the halcyon days (pre-GWB) when we wondered how best to use the trillion or so that was a surplus in the treasury?

• In its time of crises, Britain had Churchill to rally the people. In my parents’ time of economic disaster the nation had Roosevelt to inspire it. In those days there was greatness. Who do we get? Bush? What did we do that was so wrong? Why are we being punished with such blatant mediocrity?

• Oh, and then there was GWB’s plan to privatize Social Security by allowing us to invest our portion of it in the stock market? Wow, whataguy!

• It’s Yom Kippur time again. If the postal service is on the ball you will receive this on the Sabbath of Repentance. We are told that on Rosh Hashanah God inscribes the names of those to be saved and that on Yom Kippur the book is sealed. We are enjoined to ask for forgiveness of sins. Every year I make a deal with Him. I pretend that I’ll really, really, really try to be a better person, and He pretends to believe me. At least that’s the way it’s been for the past several decades and if it’s OK with Him to continue the charade, it’s OK by me too.

• Not that I don’t think government intervention is necessary. Hey, if Republicans want to transform market driven Wall Street into a People’s Republic, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the spectacle. It’s that we’ve been rushed into things before by these guys. We must invade Iraq to get to the weapons of mass destruction! We must pass the Patriot Act! We must invest 700 billion dollars! The sky is falling, the sky is falling! (Oh? Democrats want to put a cap on CEO’s salaries? Why, that’s just class warfare!) The villain here? It’s not GWB; he’s merely the current marionette. The problem goes back to the handlers of Ronnie Reagan. Government isn’t the solution, government is the problem. We have to untie the fetters that bind capitalism! We must deregulate. Well, folks, how’s that working out, exactly?

• Each year on Yom Kippur I pray in my own fashion for two things—life and health for family, friends and myself, and for belief in prayer. So far, He has granted the former and spared me the latter, and if I’m lucky, He’ll spare me again.

• The purpose of these columns over the year has been to stimulate thought and to provoke discussion. If I’ve offended I apologize; it was never my intention, though it may have been my result. Please forgive. I’ll make my amends to Him on Thursday.

Kristallnacht, then and now

Seventy years ago calamity befell us. No, I wasn’t born yet, but still I include as part of “us” myself and my children and all who are Jewish; all who believe in the glories of Western Civilization, and all who advocate for human rights.

On November 7, 1938 a Jewish student, outraged by Nazi treatment of his parents held in a freezing no-man’s land between Germany and Poland, expelled by the former, rejected by the latter, hungry, deprived of sanitary facilities and hope, took it upon himself to seek revenge. He went to the German embassy in Paris, asked to speak to the Ambassador, was allowed to see a minor functionary named Ernst vom Rath and shot him. Hitler’s Propaganda Minister, Joseph Goebbles, who had long advocated one final devastating pogrom against the remaining Jews of Germany, seized this opportunity and suddenly vom Rath achieved the status of an Aryan hero. German newspapers and radio blared forth the news that the assassination attempt, so close in time to the 21st anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution in Russia was part of the international Judeo-Communist plot to take over the world. If vom Rath died, the Nazis warned, the Jews of Germany would pay a heavy price.

The world waited as surgeons tried to save the man’s life. When the announcement came, on November 9, that vom Rath had succumbed to his wounds, the stage was set for what has become known as Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass, the night of November 9-10 when the full savagery of Nazi furor was unleashed onto defenseless Jewish communities in Germany and Austria.

The Jews of Germany had achieved what Jews in America also had, an equality of status, if not of complete opportunity. They had served during the Great War; some had become internationally known scientists, physicians, businessmen and cultural leaders in music, literature, drama. They had built synagogues of great beauty and size; they lived in homes of middle class comfort; they were like us here, now; only they were them, there and then.

That night over 200 synagogues were destroyed by fire; Jewish homes were invaded and looted; whatever commercial property was still in Jewish ownership was attacked. Jews were beaten; some were arrested. Only synagogues immediately abutting “Aryan” property were spared. It was the Jewish community’s September 11, the day their world changed forever. And further indignities ensued. The following day German insurance companies approached Nazi officials and asked permission not to pay the Jews for the damage to their property and lives. Too smart for that the Nazis said, no, you must pay, but then we’ll fine the Jews, because the attack on them was their fault because of the attack on vom Rath, and we’ll return the money to you.

Seventy years ago. Three generations ago, and yet the memory lingers, the pain endures. Here in Providence a remarkable event is being planned. On November 9 at the Veteran’s Memorial Auditorium in Providence, eight adult choirs, four children’s choirs, four cantorial soloists, 40 members of the Rhode Island Philharmonic, in total about 320 people, will present a musical commemoration of Ashkenazi Jews on the anniversary of the Kristallnacht, but it will be about more than just the one horrifying event. In fact, the program’s driving force, cantor Brian Mayer of Temple Emanu-El emphasizes that it is not a holocaust program. It is not only to be a story about burning buildings and smashed glass but an attempt to bring to light the great culture the Nazis tried to eradicate and to honor the new realities in our world 70 years later—that with the rise of Eretz Yisrael Jews need no longer live in fear the way they did 70 years ago; that we in America have come a long way towards a much more tolerant society for Jews, and for people of color, though there is still a long way to go. “But look how far we’ve come since 1963, from Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a Dream’ speech to today, when Barack Obama is the presidential nominee of the Democratic Party. This is why the program has 5 scenes about the great Ashkenazi Jewish culture that developed over 1000 years before the kristallnacht. The sixth pays due homage to the events—kristallnacht and the holocaust; but the seventh emphasizes Psalm 133—‘How good & pleasant for brothers and sisters to dwell together in harmony.’ It is an historic concert of memory and hope.” On stage for that final number there will be as many Gentile as Jewish performers.

The narration, tying the 1000 years together, will be read by Leonard Nimoy. (Full disclosure: I am the principal author of the narration.)