A Jewish Tale from Lithuania.

Published: August 18, 2007, 1:38 pm

Tags: peoplehood, yiddish, people, diaspora, europe fsu

It happened yesterday: I set out from my apartment off the main street in the Old Town of Vilnius for the Choral Synagogue. It is the one synagogue that survives and is still in use in a city that once supported over two hundred houses of prayer. During the war the Nazi's used this synagogue, which was frequented by the Vilna Gaon, as an ammunition storehouse. Today, it is a beautifully restored building in the ubiquitous Moorish style. It's beige exterior glows at sunset. People wait for the bus on its corner. A man shlings some Brandy down his throat across the street. Passersby stare bamboozled at the small group of rugged men hobbling on canes towards the Synagogue's rusted gates. Inside, my friend Dovid is talking Yiddish to a very elderly man in the row across from me. Then Dovid gets up and says Eli, would you mind accompanying this man home with me? He says his heart hurts. Davening Mincha has not begun. I hop out of my seat and the old man wraps his left arm

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