| Author: | Nancy Reil Riojas | ISBN: | 9781466061385 |
| Publisher: | Nancy Reil Riojas | Publication: | May 7, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Nancy Reil Riojas |
| ISBN: | 9781466061385 |
| Publisher: | Nancy Reil Riojas |
| Publication: | May 7, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Rare books in Rabbi Stadt's office reveal Jewish Holocaust truths not taught in schools, and thirty years later she lives to see it happen.
Excerpt:
As I was greatly intrigued by the facts of the Holocaust for so many years, I waited for weeks, hoping for the right opportunity to ask the Rabbi my question, which surely he could satisfy. On this hot summer morning, the bright sun shined through his tall office window as he stood in the warmth of the sun rays. With hands behind his back, he stared out at the meticulously maintained lawn.
"Rabbi Stadt, I have a question for you."
He turned to look at me, "What is it?"
"Why did the Holocaust happen?"
The Rabbi's demeanor changed, folding his arms at his chest and lifting his glasses to rub his nose where they had rested. Moments were passing like minutes as I patiently sat at my desk, waiting. . . .
Rare books in Rabbi Stadt's office reveal Jewish Holocaust truths not taught in schools, and thirty years later she lives to see it happen.
Excerpt:
As I was greatly intrigued by the facts of the Holocaust for so many years, I waited for weeks, hoping for the right opportunity to ask the Rabbi my question, which surely he could satisfy. On this hot summer morning, the bright sun shined through his tall office window as he stood in the warmth of the sun rays. With hands behind his back, he stared out at the meticulously maintained lawn.
"Rabbi Stadt, I have a question for you."
He turned to look at me, "What is it?"
"Why did the Holocaust happen?"
The Rabbi's demeanor changed, folding his arms at his chest and lifting his glasses to rub his nose where they had rested. Moments were passing like minutes as I patiently sat at my desk, waiting. . . .
