Dispatch | Daniel Gordis - Dispatches from an Anxious State - Part 2

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The House on Graetz Street

This may be the week to pick up a correspondence I inadvertently dropped.  It all started with a note from a friend who lives on Graetz street.  "This is probably up your alley," he wrote.  "If you want to answer him, you can."

Attached was a note from Munir K., who had written to my friend asking for information about his erstwhile home on Graetz.  Dr. K., now a physician in the States, had lived on Graetz Street in the 1930's and 40's, and was wondering what had happened to his house. (For the record, Dr. K. gave me explicit, written permission to use both his letter and his name any way I wished.  I've used only parts of the letter, ...

The Campaign that Lieberman Should Have Run

Dear Mr. Lieberman: Quite understandably, you didn't ask me to run your campaign. But now, in this extended hiatus between the campaign and a new government, I'd like to offer you some unsolicited advice about the next stage of the message you convey to the Israeli people. It's no secret that you've aroused the ire of many, from religious parties on the Right to those on the Left concerned about civil liberties. Ironically, though, your message could easily have appealed to many religious people and to some of those committed to civil liberties. To do that, you would simply have had to craft your message slightly differently, which you still can do. Let me explain. Ironically, of all the parties that received significant numbers of votes, ...

For These I Weep

I didn’t want to go to Theresienstadt, I told my wife. We would have only a few days in Prague, and for once, I wanted to walk the streets and see the museums without that seemingly inevitable dose of Jewish death that every visit to Europe seems to mandate. To my amazement, she agreed. We’d obviously see the Jewish quarter, with its famous cemetery, the Alt-Neu Shul and more, but we could let Theresienstadt pass this time. Yet, as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Mine started unraveling on Tisha B’Av. For years, we’ve been hearing Eichah, the Book of Lamentations, in our local synagogue. This year, though, we finally decided to join our friends who’ve been reading ...

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