The Holocaust is not the only Jewish trauma of which we all must grieve, for we see many painful historical accounts and dramatic Hollywood productions about other historical persecutions of the Jews. Jews are victimized by Arab terrorists in the Mideast, by fascists in Europe, and even by Klansmen in the United States. There is a virtually inexhaustible supply of books, articles, movies and plays about individual Jews who have suffered from evil anti-Semites.

Each year, tens of thousands of stories about intelligent, compassionate, unselfish, creative, moral and courageous Jews fill two-foot TV screens and 30-foot movie screens; our newspapers, magazines, and books; our playhouses, pulpits and podiums; our radio waves and satellite transmissions. There are thousands of portrayals of persecuted Jews as innocent, noble and heroic; while their opponents are portrayed as the embodiment of evil. No group on Earth has better public relations than do the Jewish people.

Whether it is Pharaoh's army with swords unsheathed, chasing the Hebrews or the Czar with his anti-Semitic Cossacks, Hitler with his SS minions dressed in black, an unnamed Palestinian terrorist trying to kidnap Israeli schoolchildren, or the more intimate story of a sensitive Jew mistreated by an anti-Semitic businessman - we have all seen the anti-Semitic stereotype, seen the skeletal bodies, and we have all shared the Jewish pain. I know of this firsthand, for it was true for me as a young man.

At age 12, reading Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl in the school library, I recoiled from the inhumanity of anti-Semitism. By the time I had finished the book, I felt as if I had lost members of my own family. With my shirtsleeves, I covertly wiped away the moisture that had welled up in my eyes.

Only a few times did I have any discussion with my father about Jews, about whom he had only praise. He spoke about my great uncle Nathan, a Methodist minister who had converted from the Jewish faith and married my grandfather's sister, my great aunt Gussie. Father had enormous respect for Nathan and carried it over to the rest of the people he called the "Hebrews," thinking that his term carried more dignity than the word "Jews." At various times he described the "Hebrews" as hardworking, smart, thrifty, and accomplished. "Thrifty" was an accolade that made a distinct impression on me, because I knew that Father looked upon that particular trait as one of the most important. He hated waste of any kind. I learned that lesson at the dinner table a hundred times, having to eat every bite of my food before being excused. I thought thriftiness was as Scottish as the Duke family, but hearing that it was Jewish, impressed me.