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Abraham Lincoln s greatest gift to the Jews – The Forward

Editor’s note: We have republished this story, originally published in 2015, for Presidents Day. “In central Jerusalem, close by streets named for the medieval Jewish luminary Moses Maimonides and the modern Hebrew writer Peretz Smolenskin, and abutting the American consulate, lies a crooked street named for Abraham Lincoln. When questioned about what he did for the Jewish people to merit a street named for him in Jerusalem, even those Jerusalemites familiar with Lincoln’s biography shake their heads and shrug.” So writes Jonathan D. Sarna in the introduction of his latest book, “Lincoln and the Jews: A History,” which he coauthored with Benjamin Shapell.

Moses Maimonides

Moses Maimonides, also known as Rambam, was a major medieval Jewish scholar, philosopher, and physician. Much of his writing is still popular and studied as an important contribution to Jewish thought. Maimonides was born in 1135 in the city of Cordoba, in what is modern Spain. At the time of his birth, Cordoba was under the political rule of the Islamic Almoravid dynasty. Relatively tolerant, the Almoravids allowed their citizens more tolerant religious freedom. Maimonides grew up in this culture for his first thirteen years of life. His life changed drastically when Cordoba was invaded and captured by the more fanatical Almohads in 1148. The Jewish community of Cordoba was faced with an ultimatum, submit to Islam or be expelled. Many Jews left, but Maimonides and his family decided to remain, outwardly complying with Muslim rules while privately practicing and studying Judaism.

Theory in particle physics: Theological speculation versus practical knowledge

Theory in particle physics: Theological speculation versus practical knowledge
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Morocco 1969

”Hey dude, you from the States?” Neal inquired. “Yeah man, I’m from San Francisco. My name is John. Where are you guys from?” “John, I’m  Mort and this is Neal. We’re from from upstate New York. Where did you get that awesome Arab robe?” I asked. John, a classic American hippie, was tall, blonde, skinny and stoned. The odor of hashish permeated his body–a smell our noses knew only too well. He was dressed in a hooded blue and white Arab robe that swept the station’s cement floor. In one long run-on sentence, John wowed us with tales of  Moroccan days and nights. “Man you got to go, the Moroccans are really nice folks, man dope is real cheap, it’s the best hash you’ll ever taste, man food is real cheap, in Tangiers you’ll blow your brains out, you won’t ever want to leave the place, it’s far-fucking out.”

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