Some years ago I visited the last synagogue in Cochin, in Kerala on the south coast of India. It was a tourist stop, but there were still a few families worshipping there on the Sabbath, remnants of a once thriving Jewish community. The sense of history went deep in this area: the first traders were the Phoenicians and their boat-building style was still visible in the fishing vessels bringing in the catch every day on the beaches. The synagogue was beautiful, in an eighteenth-century style as I remember; but what stayed with me was the old Indian Jew who showed us the building. He spoke with calm and seemed, unlike most guides, to be concerned with our reaction. He evidently carried sadness because the families of the synagogue were dying out or emigrating. To my eternal shame, I asked h