Of course, it was entirely my fault. I should have known what was likely to happen. I had seen this before. So, while innocent, I suppose I was really guilty.
I was in Philadelphia on a research trip to an archive that housed the papers of an eminent rabbi who had corresponded during the mid-nineteenth century with a Montrealer of importance in his city’s Jewish social and political affairs. I had spent two days going through the collection and that morning finished up by ordering photocopies that would be ready around two o’clock. After lunch I planned to review the rest of the rabbi’s letters to see if there were other items of interest. It was Thursday and the archives closed at four. I would then have just enough time to collect my stuff at the hotel and get to the airport for the flight home. Now I was on an extended lunch break walking around the historic Society Hill district which, years before, had been the home turf of many of the city’s Jews and their synagogues.
And it happened. I stopped in front of an imposing old synagogue and looked up at the inscription carved in the stone lintel above the entrance. It read “Rodeph Shalom” (People pursuing Peace). How fitting, I thought, in this city of brotherly love. The cornerstone’s Hebrew lettering read 1897.
I didn’t see him coming or I would have bolted. But I heard the words and I knew right away that I was done for.
“Du bist der tsenter.” He had come right out with it!
This expression literally means...
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