Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (28 page)

"I already told this Board how I intend to
remain in Washington and be available to respond to this suit."

"And we appreciate it," interrupted Sally
Medford-Quine, wife of Sylvan Quine, CEO of the cell-phone carrier,
IIC Communications in Tysons Corner, Virginia. "But unfortunately,
with what's on Rabbi Folkman's plate these days, we all agree that
it's necessary for you to be on the field, not in the dugout, if
you follow my metaphor."

Stan continued without waiting for her reply.
"Gabby, we looked at every alternative to satisfy your needs and
none work. While many in the congregation are fond of Rabbi
Folkman, none of us believes he has what it takes to fill in for
you during these critical months. Being the prime defendant in our
lawsuit adds additional pressures. While we have made no decisions
about his future, it may become necessary to buy out the remaining
years of this employment contract. That would be more difficult
were he acting senior rabbi and would cost the congregation a great
deal more money."

The notion appalled Gabby. For an instant she
feared the onset of trembling in her limbs, but mercifully it did
not occur. "I really can't believe this," she exclaimed. "Rabbi
Folkman is as good a rabbi as I know. Better than the vast
majority. He's got a heart as big as the moon. He's scholarly and
one of the most accomplished musicians ever to enter the
rabbinate."

"He didn't do us any good at his deposition,
Rabbi," trumpeted Harry Dealson, owner of racetracks in Delaware
and Pennsylvania, two of which had introduced slot-machines and
tripled his already substantial fortune. "There are many in the
congregation who believe that had he been more careful this tragedy
would have been avoided. And, I might add, you'd be able to take
your sabbatical as planned."

"Without you on the pulpit during the
difficult months ahead, it's very likely we'll lose members," Stan
added. "Opinion about the Morgenstern tragedy is mixed. But if only
a fraction of those who disagree with how we handle it terminate
their membership, we could be in big trouble. Some are already
threatening. The only thing that keeps them on board is you,
Gabby."

She offered in a conciliatory tone, "I'll be
happy to meet every family puzzled by the Morgenstern situation.
And since I'm going to remain in Washington I can handle problems
as they arise."

"We appreciate your loyalty to Rabbi
Folkman," Stan said. "That's admirable. Lawyers tend to support
each other, that is until they find themselves at each other's
throats in court." Mild chuckles rippled around the living room.
Dottie Meklin seized the opportunity to pass a thermos of hot
coffee, then retired to the kitchen to fetch after-dinner mints.
"But the truth is, Gabby," her husband continued, "we don't share
your confidence in Rabbi Folkman. And confidence is essential to a
spiritual leader. He has many admirable qualities, not to mention
his musical contributions to the liturgical life of the
congregation. Still, we sense a lack of dedication, which
incidentally showed up on his deposition, the transcript of which I
have taken the time to read carefully. Ohav Shalom cannot afford to
risk his leadership, even for an interim period."

Her eyes glanced around the room for support
and found none. A mild dizziness seemed to lodge in the frontal
lobes of her brain. How was it possible, she asked herself, for the
Board to evaluate Asa this way? Were they planning to fire him? And
if so, on exactly what grounds? "So," she said, hiding her
exasperation, "No sabbatical for the foreseeable future?"

"Hopefully not that long," Stan answered.
"But unfortunately, this brings us to an even more sensitive
problem – that of your candidacy in the race for Toby Ryles's
seat."

Several trustees improved their posture in
the cushions.

"Your intention to run is very painful for
Ohav Shalom," Stan continued. "My phone rings off the hook with
congregants asking what we would do if you were successful.
Shouldn't a search for your replacement be initiated immediately?
When Seth Greer left us, we learned that the hiring process is
complicated. Lots of egos involved. Everybody has a different idea
about the kind of rabbi he or she wants. But then, people started
confronting me with an even stickier matter. What happens if you
don't
win?"

"The most likely scenario," Gabby interjected
with her first lightness of the evening.

Stan didn't lose an instant. "To challenge
Toby Ryles will antagonize many members. We don't have to remind
you how popular she is around here. Whenever the Jews need a friend
in Congress, from issues dealing with Israel to anti-Semitism in
New Mexico, Toby is with us. Many members of the congregation
contribute to her campaigns. Several of our kids have worked in her
congressional office as interns? She's written hundreds of
recommendation letters to universities and the military academies
for them. When we require police protection for special events, a
phone call to her staff always does the trick. I think it fair to
warn you that running against Toby may hurt you. And it may not be
easy to return to this pulpit after a political campaign waged
against her."

Stan fell silent and no one filled the void.
Gabby let the silence enlarge. Eventually, she said in voice rich
with conviction, "Toby Ryles has held her seat for twelve years.
That's a long time. Where is it written that being elected to
Congress equates to a lifelong tenure? Last I heard, this republic
encourages a turnover of leadership."

"We're not going to argue political theory
with you, Rabbi," Sally Medford-Quine intoned. "I've worked with
Toby for five of her past campaigns. For the synagogue to run an
opponent against her is nothing short of gross disloyalty. She
deserves far better from those she's supported. And if she beats
you, how can Jews go back to her for future support? If I were her,
I would tell us all to go to hell. So, I ask myself, what's to be
gained?"

"The system." Gabby was curt, not expecting
to be understood.

"I'm sorry. Did I miss something?" Sally
Medford-Quine snapped. "Could you please enlighten us, Rabbi?"

"Despite all the wonderful things Toby Ryles
has done, she's still a member of the congressional incumbents
club, which opposes campaign finance reform. She condones practices
that make it almost impossible for challengers to compete on a
level playing field. The Incumbents Club has one purpose – to keep
newcomers out. Don't you see that what she benevolently bestows
upon the Jewish community from the taxpayers' exchequer is part and
parcel of the process of ensuring votes? You support the system and
it, in exchange, supports you. A Congressperson gives away the
taxpayers' money and is deemed a hero."

"What would make you any different from other
challengers?" asked Harry Dealson, ever pragmatic in his
approach.

"An excellent question, Harry. I'm different
because I won't need a lot of money," she declared. "My campaign
will cost a fraction of what it normally costs to run. The
important thing is not that I'm elected, but that others follow my
method."

"Could you let us know how this might
happen?" Harry pursued.

Gabby weighed the request before responding.
"I'm afraid I cannot be specific at this moment, Harry. It's just
too early. Am I to take from this meeting that you forbid me to run
against Toby?"

Stan interjected, "We can't do that. You're a
US citizen and have a constitutional right to run for office. But
we are the stewards of Ohav Shalom, responsible to promote its
health and longevity. If you run, Gabby, we must protect the
congregation and begin looking for your successor. That's only fair
play. It's our opinion that religion and politics don't mix. Good
politicians don't make good rabbis and, thank God, good rabbis
don't make good politicians. You're going to have to decide whether
you want to remain as our rabbi, which is our unanimous choice, or
go into politics. Please, think very seriously about this."

When the meeting ended, Gabby felt isolated.
In the vestibule, several trustees cordially helped her with her
overcoat but none accompanied her to her car parked up the street.
Just as well. She wanted to walk in the cold air and clear her
head. How naive she had been not to have foreseen this coming! Stan
was right about rabbis lacking political savvy.

Chuck Browner stood like a Roman statue at
his desk as Gabby approached, navigating by peering over the top
rim of reading glasses perched on her nose. Sometimes these
cheaters got shifted above her forehead into her short brunette
hair and sometimes were permitted to dangle from a thin silver
chain below her neck. That she was forced to make appropriate
concessions to the aging process appealed to him.

At the last moment, he declared in an
imperious tone, "A messenger just came by and asked for my
signature of receipt," he said raising a large gray envelope and
forcing her to halt.

"What court wants to subpoena me today?" she
often jested to illustrate her natural skepticism.

"Nothing illegal, for a change. I think it's
from an admirer."

"Right," she was sarcastic. "From the
President of the United States."

He made a smacking sound with his lips.
"Among other qualities, you're prophetic. You nailed it, Rabbi
Gabby."

"Okay, okay," she became impatient with the
banter. "Just tell me what it is, please."

"It's stamped with the presidential seal of
the United States of America," he said while withdrawing from the
large gray delivery container a smaller cream-colored letter-size
envelope.

Her eyes dropped in terror over the
presidential seal. "Get me a bottle of smelling-salts. God never
speaks to me from Mt. Zion and I never expected to get a letter
from the President."

The familiar blue seal of the Presidency with its
eagle wings was richly embossed on heavy cream-colored stationery,
though she noted it did not originate from the White House. The
signature of Cornell Lewis Talisman, President of the United
States, ended a perfectly spaced paragraph. Her eyes skimmed the
text as her lips mumbled. The second time her eyes covered the text
she read loud enough for Chuck to hear.

WASHINGTON D.C.

Rabbi Gabrielle Lewyn

Congregation Ohav Shalom

Washington, D.C. 20021

Dear Rabbi Lewyn:

It is with great pleasure that I learned from the
Democratic Party in Maryland of your interest to run for the Eighth
Congressional seat. We feel it is time for the citizens of the
Eighth District to send a devoted Democrat to the House of
Representatives.

I learned of your courageous testimony at the
Zentner Trial when I was a senator. It was a powerful statement for
justice. In addition, Vice President Giles now reminds me of your
sterling efforts to build a tennis facility for underprivileged
students at Anacostia High School here in the District of Columbia.
We have every assurance you would make a superb representative for
Maryland's Eighth District. I am aware that the Republican
incumbent is strongly entrenched. With your help, we hope to change
that. Please be assured that Vice President Giles and I will do
whatever is necessary to support your candidacy. It will be a
pleasure to stand beside you as soon as you're prepared to meet the
public.

The Very Best of Luck,

Cornell Lewis Talisman, President

When finished, Gabby moved toward her desk, her mind
miles away. Never in her wildest dreams had it occurred to her that
someday she would be recognized by an American president. True,
this recognition was self-serving since Cornell Talisman
desperately needed Democratic support in a Republican-controlled
Congress and he would have sent an identical letter to whomever his
party selected to challenge Toby Ryles. Nevertheless, she couldn't
resist feeling flattered. This merited a call to her father in Los
Angeles!

When she initially declared her intention to
become a rabbi, he had his doubts. Wow!

Chuck remained silent, viewing her
unabashedly and straining to contain a whooping cheer. When she
finally lifted her eyes he signaled victory with his fist and
blurted, "Woopee, Rabbi Gabby. Looks like we'll be leaving these
digs after all. I'm putting in my order right now. I want a big
paneled office in the Rayburn Building with lots of college interns
to help with the clerical work. I'm trying to imagine people
addressing you as Congresswoman Lewyn."

She waved the President's letter at him. "Now
just wait a minute. I've got to win a very tough election first. If
you want my advice, don't pack your bags just yet. All logic says
that you and I will probably be right here next year, that is if
Ohav Shalom doesn't turf me out first."

CHAPTER EIGHT

BANKCRUPTCY

Judge Julia Karston-King wrapped herself
lethargically in a black gown as though curling into a woolen
blanket on a bitter winter night. Heavy spectacles, which lawyers
said looked like two magnifying glasses wired together, enlarged
her eyes and had slipped to the tip of her nose, arrested there by
thick bovine nostrils. She wore no jewelry and employed no feminine
makeup. Her hair, gathered into a careless bun at the rear of her
head, was secured by a bone barrette. No one in the Bankruptcy
Court in Baltimore's Federal Building had ever heard her mention a
husband or children. She held the reputation of a fierce defender
of the Bankruptcy Reform Act of 1978, devised to help failing
businesses stave off their creditors while they returned to
financial solvency. She like to reminding those before her bench
that the state provided her significant discretion in resolving
financial disputes – and that she looked with disfavor upon
unnecessary disputation or delaying tactics. Personal vengeance
between creditors and borrowers had no place in her court.