It is the Jewish Sabbath, and so I do not phone my daughter in
My father, being of the tribe of Levi, took care to wash his hands on leaving a cemetery, lest he carry any of its contamination with him. After every funeral in the congregation, he would sigh and tell me, "And so it goes." And indeed it does, like life itself.
Don't get me wrong; Pa was a man who loved life with all its ups and downs and sidewayses. He even fancied himself something of a dancer, much to the embarrassment of his oh-so-sophisticated sons. There was a twinkle in his eye that would not be extinguished till he joined his beloved dead. For he was the head of his congregation's Chevrei Kadisha, literally Holy Gang, and would be dressed in complete Masonic regalia when he finally went to meet his maker.
You couldn't but love the man my favorite cousin called Uncle Benny, and while he did have feuds and fusses from time to time, he never met a stranger or a wayfarer who was not welcome in the house to spend Sabbath and enjoy a good meal of eastern European fare that, I learn from the
"More than
A good Sabbath to you, friend, on whatever day of the week yours falls. May you be well and strong. And may you avoid the contagious grip of today's ideological fashions. Writing in First Things, its editor
Strangely enough in this day and debased age, Christendom's required courses are intended to inspire a life of faith and reason rather than to join some meritocratic upper crust that's supposed to run
Brother Reno is scarcely enthusiastic about today's industrial-educational complex. He contrasts
Kids all over America doubtless dream of going to such a school some golden day. You might call it a feeder school, as Brother Reno indeed does. For the whole system in this country would seem to be dedicated to feeding the most talented of our young people into the maw of this modern-day Moloch, god of progress or what goes by that name.
Yet the little Christendom Colleges of the land proliferate like so many blessings, waiting only to be gathered up. There is no need to spy them out. They'e not hiding but are there in plain sight. Look around and you'll find one. Both you and your kid might be glad you did.
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Paul Greenberg is the Pulitzer-winning editorial page editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette.