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The chassid hurried through the streets of Karlin, heading to the home of Rabbi Aharon. Suddenly a Russian policeman stood before him, blocking his path. Immediately the chassid’s hands were bound . . .
In the gas chambers, one boy shouted: "Brothers! Today is the holiday of Simchat Torah. We do not have clothes to cover us, nor a Torah scroll with which to dance. So let us dance with G‑d Himself—who is surely here among us."
I've been a committed student of a Middle Eastern Dance class that meets every Wednesday night, and even though my mind was begging to differ, I knew my body would thank me later. But all I could see was a postpartum pooch shimmying in a baggy tee-shirt.....
How did the shoemaker lay his hands on the precious artifact? No one knew.
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