The story of Phil, Jan and Max Littman
"I have bad news," my mother-in-law said to us as Jan and I returned from an early morning walk. "Your synagogue has been torched. The Rabbi left his cell phone number. Call him right away."
Our son Max's bar mitzvah was to be held the next morning. One hundred and sixty friends and family were either already at the hotel or arriving within the next few hours to celebrate this milestone in our lives. You would think we'd be overcome with tears, but there wasn't time, no time even to go into shock. We had to immediately start thinking about notifying our guests, caterer, and florist. But we had no idea what to tell them. Where, when, and especially how were complete unknowns...
