Friday the Rabbi Slept Late (15 page)

Abe Reich was recognized. “I just want to say this: I know exactly what Mr. Wasserman means when he says the rabbi is involved in a lot of other activities that most of us don’t realize. I myself had the privilege of seeing this side of the rabbi, and let me tell you it was an important matter to me and I have been full of admiration for the rabbi ever since. Maybe he’s no Fourth of July orator, but when he talks to us from the pulpit, he talks sense and he reaches me. I’d rather have that than someone who puts on an act and uses a bunch of ten-dollar words. When he talks I feel he’s sincere, and that’s more than I can say about a lot of high-powered rabbis I’ve heard.”

Dr. Pearlstein rose to support his friend, Al Becker. “A dozen times a week when I prescribe for a patient I am asked if they can use the same medicine I prescribed for them last year, or that I prescribed for someone they know who had the same symptoms. I have to explain that an ethical doctor prescribes for a particular person for a particular condition –”

“Nothing like getting a plug in, Doc,” someone shouted, and the doctor joined in the laughter.

“What I mean to say is that it’s like Al Becker said. No one claims that the rabbi is incapable or insincere. The question is, is he the rabbi that this congregation needs at this time? Is he what the doctor ordered for this particular patient in this particular condition?”

“Yeah, but maybe there’s more than one doctor.”

Several were shouting at the same time, and Wasserman banged on the desk for order.

One of those who had never attended a board meeting before raised his hand and was recognized. “Look fellows,” he said, “what’s the sense of our discussing this? When you talk about an idea or about some project, okay, so the more you talk, the clearer it gets. But when you talk about a person, you don’t get anywhere. You just get a lot of bad feeling. Now all of us know the rabbi and we know whether we want him or not. I say, let’s not discuss the matter any further and let’s vote.”

“That’s right!”

“Move the previous question!”

“Let’s vote.”

“Just a minute.” It was the roar that everyone recognized as belonging to Abe Casson, who had developed its raucousness and its volume at a thousand political meetings. “Before you move the previous question, I’d like to say a few words on the situation in general.” He left his seat and walked down the aisle to the front of the room to face them. “I’m not going to argue whether the rabbi is doing a good job or not. But I am going to say a few words on public relations, which my good friend Al Becker has brought up. As you all know, when a Catholic priest is assigned to a parish by his bishop, he stays there until the bishop reassigns him. And if any member of the parish doesn’t like him, he is free – to move out of the parish. It’s different with the different Protestant churches. They all have different ways of hiring a minister and of dropping him, but in general, they don’t fire a minister unless there’s something definite that he’s done, and it has to be something pretty God-awful definite.”

He lowered his voice to a more conversational tone. “Now I’ve been chairman of the Republican committee of the county for almost ten years now, so I guess I can lay claim to knowing about the way our non-Jewish friends and neighbors think. They don’t understand our method of engaging a rabbi or of firing him. They don’t understand that twenty minutes after a rabbi lands in town, there’s a pro-rabbi and an anti-rabbi party. They can’t understand how some members of the congregation can become anti-rabbi just because they don’t like the kind of hats his wife wears. It’s routine with us. As a man in politics all my life, I know all the goings-on in all the temples and synagogues in Lynn and Salem, yes and in most of the Boston ones too. When a rabbi takes over a new pulpit, there is a group made up of friends of the last rabbi that is automatically opposed to him. That’s the way it is with us Jews. Now the Gentiles don’t understand this, as I say. So when we fire the rabbi the first thing they’ll think is that there must have been some big reason. Now what reason is bound to occur to them? Let’s think about it. Just a few days ago, a young girl was found murdered in our backyard. As you know, at the time our rabbi was alone in the temple, in his study. His car was in the parking lot, and the girl’s handbag was found in his car. Now you and I know, and the police know too, that the rabbi could not have done it –”

“Why couldn’t the rabbi have done it?” asked a member.

There was dead silence at this open expression of what had not been entirely absent from the minds of many of them.

But Casson turned on them. “Whoever said that ought to be ashamed of himself. I know the men in this room and I’m sure that no one here really thinks the rabbi could have done this terrible thing. As the campaign manager of the present district attorney, I can tell you that I have some idea of what his thinking is and what the thinking of the police is. I tell you that they don’t for a minute think that the rabbi did this. But” – he leveled a forefinger at them for emphasis – “he has to be considered. If he weren’t a rabbi, he would be the A-number-one suspect.” He held up his hand and ticked off on his ringers the points as he made them. “Her bag was found in his car. He was there at the time. He is the only one we know for sure was there. We have only his word that he was in his study all the time. There is no other suspect.”

He looked around impressively. “And now, two days after the event you want to fire him. How’s that for public relations, Al? What are your Gentile friends going to think when they find out that two days after the rabbi becomes a suspect in a murder case, his congregation fired him? What are you going to say to them, Al? ‘Oh, we didn’t fire him for that. We fired him because his pants weren’t pressed.’ “

Al Becker rose. He was no longer quite so sure of himself. “Look, I have nothing against the rabbi personally. I want that distinctly understood. I am only thinking of what is best for the temple. Now if I thought that what our friend Abe Casson just told us might turn the scales against the rabbi, that as a result of our firing him he might get mixed up in this murder – more mixed up than he is right now, that is – I’d say, no. But you know and I know that the police can’t seriously connect him with this crime. You know that they’re not going to try to pin it on him because we drop him. And if we don’t, then we have him for all of next year.”

“Just a minute, Al.” It was Casson again. “I don’t think you get the point. I’m not concerned with the reaction to the rabbi. I’m concerned with the reaction to the temple, to the congregation. Some are going to say that we dropped him because we suspected he was guilty. And they’ll say we must have a fine bunch of men in the rabbinate if one of them could be so quickly suspected of murder. And there’ll be others who’ll think it absurd that the rabbi could be suspected. And all they’ll think is that we Jews don’t trust each other and are willing to fire our spiritual leader just on suspicion. In this country where a man is considered innocent until he’s proved guilty, that won’t sit so well. Do you get it, Al? It’s us I’m concerned about.”

“Well, I’m not voting another contract to the rabbi,” said Becker, and sat back with arms folded as if to show he wanted no further part in the proceedings.

“What are we fighting for?” It was another member whom Becker had induced to come vote against the rabbi. “I can see Abe Casson’s point of view, and I can see Al Becker’s point of view. But I can’t see why we have to make up our minds today. There’s another meeting next week. The police work fast these days. By the next meeting the whole thing may be all settled. I say, let’s lay the matter on the table until then. And if worst comes to worst, we can still have another meeting.”

“If the worst comes, you won’t have to bother about another meeting,” said Abe Casson grimly.

Wasserman had been so sure the rabbi would lose that his face could not help showing his relief.

“Believe me, rabbi,” he said, “the future looks brighter. Who can tell what will happen in the next week or two? Suppose the police don’t come up with the guilty man, then do you think we will permit another postponement? No, I’ll put my foot down. I’ll tell them that it isn’t fair to you to keep you waiting this way when you could be looking for another position. I’m sure they’ll see the justice of that. But even if thy police do find the man, do you think Al Becker will be able to rally the same number of people at the next meeting? Believe me, I know these people. I have tried to get them to come to meetings. Maybe he could turn the trick once, but he won’t be able to a second tune. And if we have the usual people present, I’m sure we’ll win.”

The rabbi was troubled. “I feel as if I’m forcing myself on them. Maybe what I ought to do is to resign. It’s not pleasant to hold a pulpit on sufferance. It’s not dignified.”

“Rabbi, rabbi. We’ve got over three hundred members. If it came to a vote of the entire membership, believe me you’d get a majority. I tell you, the great majority of the membership is with you. These board members – it’s not as if they were the representatives of the congregation. They were appointed. I appointed them, or at least I appointed the nominating committee that appointed the slate, and you know what happens – the membership endorse the slate as a whole. These board members, they’re people that we hoped would do some work for the temple or they’re people who are a little richer than the rest. But they represent only themselves. Becker reached them first so they voted his way. But if he asks them to come to the next meeting, he’ll find that they all have previous appointments.”

The rabbi laughed. “You know, Mr. Wasserman, at the seminary one of the favorite subjects of discussion in student bull sessions was what a rabbi could do to ensure his job. The best way is to marry a very rich girl. Then the congregation feels that it doesn’t make any difference to you whether you stay or leave. This gives you a tremendous psychological advantage. Then too, if she is indeed very rich, that gives her social position in the congregation, and this counts for a great deal with the wives of the members. Another way is to write and publish a popular book. The congregation then takes on prestige vicariously. Their rabbi is a famous author. A third way is to get into local politics so that the Gentiles speak well of you. If you develop a reputation in the community of being a ‘rabbi with guts,’ it’s practically impossible to fire you. But now I could offer still another way: become a suspect in a murder case. This is a fine way for a rabbi to ensure his position.”

But the rabbi returned from seeing Wasserman to his car much less light-heartedly. He watched gloomily as Miriam went through her usual ministrations after Sunday dinner, arranging the fruit bowl on the coffee table in the living room, puffing up the cushions on the couch and the easy chairs, giving a last-minute dusting to the tables and the lamps.

“Expecting someone?” he asked.

“No one in particular, but people always drop in Sunday afternoon, especially when it’s so nice out. Don’t you think you had better put on your jacket?”

“Frankly, right now I’m a little fed up with my congregation and my pastoral duties. Do you realize, Miriam, that we’ve been here in Barnard’s Crossing almost a year and we’ve never really explored the town? Let’s take a holiday. Suppose you change into some comfortable shoes and we’ll take a bus downtown and just wander around.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing, I hope. If you feel we really need an excuse, we can stop at the police station and recover the car. But I would just like to meander like a tourist through the narrow, crooked streets of Old Town. It’s a fascinating place, and has quite a history. Did you know that Barnard’s Crossing was originally settled by a bunch of roughnecks, sailors and fishermen for the most part, who didn’t care to live under the repression of the Puritan theocracy. Ever since Hugh Lanigan told me that I have done a little checking on my own. They didn’t observe the Sabbath too carefully here, or even have a church or a minister for years after the place was settled. And we thought it was a staid, stuffy, ultra-conservative community. Barnard’s Crossing breeds a special kind of independence that you don’t find in the average New England town. Most New England towns have a tradition of independence, but all it means is that they took an active part in the Revolution. Here there is also a tradition of independence against the rest of New England. It’s land’s end, so they tend to be suspicious of the rest of the world. Why don’t we look it over.”

They left the bus near the edge of Old Town and sauntered along, stopping whenever they saw anything of interest. They went into the town hall and gawked at the old battle flags that were mounted in glass cases along the walls. They read the bronze plaques that had been set up on the historic buildings. At one point they found themselves part of a crowd of sightseers who were being lectured by a guide, and they went along until the party returned to their bus. Then they walked along the main street looking at the windows of the antique shops, the gift shops, and the wonderful window of a ship chandler with its coils of rope, its brass ship fittings, compasses, and anchors. They found a little park that overlooked the harbor, and sat on one of the benches and just looked down at the water with its boats, some sailing along gracefully, others, motor-powered, scooting along the surface like water bugs. They did not talk but just drank in the peaceful scene.

Finally they set out to find the police garage to reclaim their car, and promptly got lost. For an hour or so, they wandered in and out of little blind alleys with sidewalks so narrow two could not walk abreast. They were flanked on either side by frame houses, often less than a foot apart, but they looked down these narrow slits to see, in back, tiny old-fashioned gardens with rock flowers and hollyhocks and sunflowers and little arbors covered with vines. They retraced their steps and wandered into another little private street where the few houses were of painted brick and had gardens enclosed by white picket fences; beyond, they could glimpse the water with a boat bobbing up and down beside a rickety landing that lurched under every movement of the waves. Occasionally, they caught sight of someone in a bathing suit lying on the landing, taking the sun, and they quickly averted their eyes as though they were intruding; unconsciously they found themselves lowering their voices.