Miracle

Hope, Leitner was fond of saying, is the greatest gift.

He thought of song as an expression of belief in the greatest moment of doubt

but he refused to shy away from existential questions. He had convinced himself, if no one else, that he was unafraid of death. He insisted it intrigued him rather than intimidated him. He wanted to live but was content to surrender to fate and his faith in a higher power. He refused to despair.

Eventually, they sailed from northern France to the port of Dover with the speech of a rabbi ringing in their ears: “The world discovered socialism and communism, but we know how it ended, with barbarism. Have the courage to carry on the old traditions.”

History is an echo chamber that can be soothing or discordant, according to mood or timing.

The Jewish people have been called am k’shei oref, a stiff-necked nation. It was not necessarily a compliment. But perhaps it was always a necessity. Only a stiff-necked people could continue to believe in God after Auschwitz. Only a people this impossibly stubborn could see their loved ones consumed by fire and yet survive to raise families, build schools, dance again with a Torah scroll. Only a stiff-necked people could transform pain into purpose