I remember these beautiful and singular moments of my youth, when at Friday evening just before the sunset, or the Saturday morning, just to make the quorum of maybe 10 men (I forgot the exact number) I frequented the old synagogue of Clermont-Fd, in France. I have sang aloud these ancient songs of Israel, swinging my body in unison with the others by my side, even if ignoring the meaning of the words. I started to learn Hebrew, and the dramatic history of this people of Israel, identifying the sources of my personal tragedies with those of them. I was (and still I am) a Christian, but I wished then to return to the faith of my grand-parents, of Jewish origin. They told me old stories, that they came from North europe, but unfortunately they forgot from exactly where. Maybe, in my incredulity, characteristic of the youth, I didn’t insist enough to clarify the question. But I had at the time very good friends, Palestinians and Arabs, and I was shocked by the tragic conditions in Palestine and then I decided to give up to be converted to Judaism. So, since then, I am in no man’s land… I must confess this before I die…

israel

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