I\’m reluctant to draw lessons from the hurricane, even if the High Holidays are a time of stock taking, and even if Jewish tradition suggests that calamities are \”heavenly alarms\” meant to arouse repentance.
Coming to terms with someone else\’s anguish is one subject of \”Call Waiting,\” a new film about the bedridden daughter of Holocaust survivors. The film stars Caroline Aaron, who recreates her successful turn from the stage version. Aaron can relate to the material, both because she is Jewish and because her family has its own significant pain.
It\’s hard for Gideon Daneshrad to imagine himself on the receiving end of tzedakah (charitable giving). In the 30 years since he arrived from Iran to study computer science at North Louisiana University in Monroe, Daneshrad, 56, has built himself a full life — with four children, a lakefront home and New Orleans\’ only kosher restaurant.
\”Just close your eyes and imagine that you wake up in the morning and you are stripped of your identity,\” Daneshrad says. \”You are nobody. You are nothing. You have no money coming in. You don\’t have clothes. You don\’t have food. And all the people you knew are scattered around the world.\”
Daneshrad and his family have been in Los Angeles for more than a week, and he still finds himself imagining this is all a nightmare.
Recently, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) issued an apology for its Holocaust on Your Plate campaign and exhibit, which showed concentration camp images next to photos of animal abuse on factory farms. The comparison was extraordinarily tasteless, and widely condemned. PETA expressed surprise at the negative reaction, and while they should have known better, their campaign has thankfully ended.
By the time he had reached the fourth grade, Josh\’s dystonia caused his right hand to involuntarily clench into a fist so tight that he could only open it by force. His feet turned inward, requiring him to wear braces. The symptoms had forced Josh to quit his baseball and basketball teams after six years of playing, leaving him depressed and angry.
Natan Sharansky\’s attitude is as old as the Bible. This week\’s Torah portion began with a description of the olah, the obligatory burnt offering that was brought twice a day — morning and afternoon — to the Holy Temple.
It is quite painful for a proud, practicing pro-Zionist Jew, who was bar mitzvahed, educated in Israel, lights candles on Shabbat, attends shul regularly, contributes to The Forward and educates his own child into the religious tradition, to be accused publicly of anti-Semitism (\”When Jews Wax Anti-Semitic,\” Feb. 18).
\”A man sat opposite me in my study one evening: \’Two weeks ago, for the first time in my life I went to the funeral of a man my own age…. He died suddenly over the weekend…. That was two weeks ago.
Inside the Mnaje Mojo hospital — \”one coconut\” in Swahili — it was absolute chaos. The place was teeming with people and I had to push my way through what seemed a never-ending crowd to get to the small room at the end of the corridor.
I am sitting in Adam\’s living room — a carpet on a dirt patio. On one side is a small tent for his five children, as well as two nephews and a niece who have been orphaned.
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