“What do you mean, of course it is nice!” Morris gestures expansively with his hands, still holding his sandwich. “It is the oldest temple in the city, they made it a landmark for crying out loud.”
“It’s not the oldest temple, it’s just the oldest building anyone’s using as a temple,” Michael mumbles, sourly nitpicking at his father’s holier-than-thou boast.
“So what?” Morris says. “The congregation has been there a hundred years. That is not enough for you? It is important for our people to be somewhere a long time like this, to find somewhere to stay. You should not be so disrespectful.” Shaking his head disappointedly, he takes another bite, then nods toward Wolfgang. “Surely you understand the value of such a place. Making a home, this is the meaning of Israel.”