In a reception hall of the Great Synagogue of Tel Aviv, usually given over to the festive clinking of brandy glasses toasting newlyweds, stood a long and sombre line of army cots. On them lay 51 men, mostly middleaged, skull caps on their heads, prayer shawls on their shoulders, lamenting and praying. They were fasting, not feasting. Occasionally, panting in Israel's worst heat wave in years, the men sipped weak tea; but they ate nothing. All were Rumanian Jews, onetime leaders in their communities, and they were on a hunger strike to...
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