Two weeks ago I remembered him.
I was participating in a forum about the chareidi opposition to factory conversions while participants included the full spectrum of Israeli society from irreligious professors to people from the Eidah Chareidis and all the stripes in between. The tension in the room was soaring.
We were discussing approving conversions on candidates who have no sincere intention of accepting the yoke of mitzvos; in particular foreign soldiers mainly from the former Soviet Union who are serving in the Israel Defense Forces. This is currently a hot topic here in Israel. Of course most of the attacks were directed at us the chareidim. We were accused of having no sense of responsibility toward Am Yisrael and of being racists who turn away foreigners who wish to join the Jewish People.
And suddenly I thought of him. The image of his tall figure with its crop of blond hair appeared in my mind’s eye. How long ago had it been? Thirty years surely if not more.
He showed up one evening at our study group in the Na’aseh v’Nishma Center in Tel Aviv. My brother who was the director of the Center brought him over to me and introduced him whispering in my ear “He’s German the son of a Nazi.”
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