Wednesday the Rabbi Got Wet (28 page)

“I phoned earlier and you weren’t in,” he explained, “but going by I saw your car.”

“Come in, Doctor.”

“Since you weren’t at the meeting” – he chuckled – “by invitation. Chester Kaplan thought you ought to be notified.”

“And he found it embarrassing to come in person because he had won and I had lost, so he sent you?”

Muntz laughed again. “Just about. Chet is a very sensitive guy, the vote was fifteen to five.”

The rabbi nodded. “That’s better than I expected.”

“With some, maybe most, it was because they felt the sale was a good deal for the temple and they didn’t want to lose it.”

“A vote to reconsider didn’t necessarily mean that the property could not then be sold, only that Aptaker would have been considered.”

“Well.” Al Muntz said, “there were others who felt that there was no consideration due him since he wasn’t a member of the temple and hardly had any connection with the Jewish community, he doesn’t care anything about us, so why should we go to any trouble about him, that was the attitude of some of the members. Even from your point of view, Rabbi, I don’t think you should worry too much about Aptaker, the chances are he’d have to give up his store sooner or later anyway, he was getting mighty careless in filling out prescriptions, he balled one up for a patient of mine only a couple of days ago. Luckily., no harm was done, but there have been other cases. Now, how long before that gets around? Then who’ll come to him to have a prescription filled, even if his license isn’t revoked?”

“How could he have made a mistake in the last couple of days when he’s been in the hospital for the last couple of weeks?” the rabbi protested.

“I mean I heard of it a couple of days ago,” said the doctor. “It actually happened when Marcus Aptaker was still in his store.” He recounted the events on the night of the big storm.

“And there was something the matter with those pills?”

“No, no, the pills Safferstein obtained the next day to replace the ones that had been in his coat pocket were all right, and his wife got better. But a couple of days ago he found the original bottle of pills, and he noticed they didn’t look the same as the others, they were a different color from the refill pills. So naturally he was a little concerned. Which were the right ones? If his wife took the wrong pills was there danger of some aftereffect? You know how your mind runs on. So he called me, and I stopped off on my way home to look at them.” Dr. Muntz paused to give dramatic effect to his words. “Rabbi, they were the wrong pills, they weren’t what I’d ordered at all, the label was right, but the pills were wrong.”

“And if Mrs. Safferstein had taken those pills?”

“Well, it so happens that nothing would have happened. But that’s not the point, the point is that they were the wrong pills. Now, how many times can a druggist pull a stunt like that and continue to stay in business?”

“You told this to the board?” the rabbi asked.

“Oh no. If I told them, it would be all over town by the next day. I’m telling you because – well, because I know you won’t spread it around, for one thing, and because you were so upset at the raw deal Aptaker got and kind of hinted you might resign. I thought you ought to have all the facts before you made up your mind, about resigning, I mean.”

The rabbi looked at him in surprise. “Are you concerned whether I –”

“I wouldn’t want you to resign.”

“Strange.” the rabbi mused. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as –”

“As being on your side?” Muntz chuckled. “It’s like this, Rabbi. Chet Kaplan is a good friend of mine, but on certain matters, he’s a damn fool, he’s so caught up with the retreat and religion that he can’t think straight, well, I think the congregation needs you to counterbalance him.”

“I see.” The rabbi smiled. “You’d like me to continue as rabbi here because you’re afraid I’d be replaced by a religious rabbi.”

The doctor laughed. “It sounds funny put that way, but I think you know what I mean.”

“Yes. I do. I just wonder if you do.”

“I don’t understand.” said Muntz.

“Well, most Jews, like people generally nowadays, have given very little thought to their religion. Nevertheless, they have a subconscious feeling for it, and sometimes, when they go at it with great enthusiasm, it is with little discrimination, and they’re apt to get it all wrong, like Mr. Kaplan. So you’re likely to find that his Judaism doesn’t square with what you feel subconsciously. You see. Doctor, ours is an ethical religion, a way of life.”

“Aren’t they all?”

The rabbi pursed his lips. “Why, no. Christianity, for example, is a mystical religion.”

“You mean that Christians are not ethical?”

The rabbi made a gesture of impatience. “Of course they are. But it is a secondary thing with them. What is enjoined on them primarily is faith in the Man-God Jesus, and their ethics are derived from the principle that if they believe in Jesus as the Son of God and their Saviour, then they will try to emulate him and hence will behave ethically, there is also the belief, common among the evangelical sects, that if you truly believe, ‘if you let Jesus come into your life’ is the usual formula, ethical behavior will come automatically, and sometimes it works.” He cocked his head to one side and considered, then he nodded vigorously. “Sure. If you have your thoughts on heaven, you are less likely to covet the things of this world. Your foot may slip occasionally, of course, but not as much as it would if that were all you had to think about. On the other hand, you might get to thinking that any fancy that flits through your mind is the word of God.

“With us, however, faith in the Christian sense is almost meaningless, since God is by definition unknowable. What does it mean to say I believe in what I don’t know and can’t know? Theoretically, Christianity has the same view of God, which is why His Son was born on earth and lived as a man. Because being a man, he could be known. But we don’t share this belief. Our religion is a code of ethical behavior, the code of Moses, the Torah, is a set of rules and laws governing behavior, the prophets preached ethical behavior, and the rabbis whose discussion and debates form the Talmud were concerned with spelling out in meticulous detail just how the general rules of behavior were to be implemented. I might mention in passing, that’s why we have done so little proselytizing over the years. Because we have nothing to sell; no secrets, no magic formula, no ceremonial initiation that will open the gates of heaven. When a Christian comes to me for conversion, as they do now and again, that’s what I tell them, because, of course, we have nothing to offer except our ethics and our way of life, and if he says that’s what he’s interested in, that he’d like to share it, I tell him to go ahead, there’s nothing to prevent him, that with us the ethical Gentile stands as high before God as does the High Priest of Israel.”

“You mean that’s all there is to our religion? Only ethics?”

“That would be all if we were robots with minds programmed by a computer. But since we are human, with all the normal human failings and imperfections, we need rites and symbols and ceremonials to remind us and to combine us into a cohesive group, also, some of us learn better that way, and because we remember, our history and our traditions take on importance. But it is our ethics that is the basis of our religion.”

“But you do convert sometimes, don’t you?”

The rabbi nodded. “Yes. Conversion usually is involved with marriage to a Jew, there are practices and ceremonials, tribal customs really, which implement and ingrain our ethical ideas, and conversion is largely adoption into the tribe, the convert takes a new name and it is as though he were born a Jew. But that’s quite different from conversion to one of the mystical religions.”

“But there have been Jewish mystics, haven’t there?” Muntz objected. “I was reading –”

“Oh yes.” the rabbi interrupted impatiently. “The Essenes, the Dead Sea community, the Kabbalists, the Sabbatean movement, and I might add. Christianity, all were mystical movements in Judaism. But we sloughed them off, because from the point of view of traditional, central Judaism, they are errors. Only Chasidism has persisted, and that’s because their mysticism is in addition to their adherence to traditional ethics and the Jewish customs which reflect and symbolize them, the chasidic legends of wonder-working rebbes are so much superstitious nonsense. But the chasidic rebbe who is most revered is the one whose charitable way of life, whose concern for people, made him a saint.”

Rabbi Small leaned forward. “I don’t deny the validity of mystical experience. It’s just that my bent is not in that direction. Perhaps it is a failing in me. But in the present case, we are breaking a Talmudic law which is clearly ethical, and peculiarly Jewish, I might add, in order to promote not religion but religiosity. You suggest that Mr. aptaker is not worthy of our concern. But how about Mr. Goralsky?”

The phone rang, and the rabbi picked up the receiver, as he listened his face grew grave. Finally, he said, “All right, I’ll be right down.” He turned to the doctor. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me.”

When he arrived at the police station, the rabbi found Akiva sitting on a bench in front of the sergeant’s desk in the outer room. His eyes were closed, and there was a little smile on his face as though he were having a pleasant dream, the rabbi went over to the sergeant and nodded questioningly at the young man.

“He’s been like that for the last ten or fifteen minutes,” the sergeant explained in a whisper. “He comes out of the chiefs office and he says he’s going to wait here for you, he asks me which way is east and he goes into the comer and just stands there like a kid in school, then he starts swaying and twisting and bending back and forth like he was doing exercises or maybe having a fit, and he’s whispering to himself all the time. I couldn’t hear him but I could see his lips moving.”

“It’s his way of praying.” the rabbi explained with a smile.

“Is it now? Well, after a while he sits down and just closes his eyes. But I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

When the rabbi sat down beside him, Akiva opened his eyes, and with a broad smile said. “Hello. Rabbi. I sure appreciate your coming.”

“The sergeant tells me you were praying.”

“That’s right. I recited the Shema over and over again.”

“Why the Shema?”

“Because it’s the only prayer I know by heart,” he said simply.

“Why are you here, Akiva?”

The young man shook his head, but he did not appear in the least upset, he even smiled.

“You certainly look a lot different from the way you sounded over the phone,” the rabbi remarked.

“When I called, I was really freaked out,” Akiva explained. “I just didn’t know what was happening. It was like a nightmare, like everything was closing in on me, and then I made contact with my rebbe.”

“What do you mean, you made contact with him?”

“I called to him and he appeared. I saw him as clearly as I see you now, he told me to pray and that everything would be all right. So I prayed and I feel fine now.”

“Well, that’s good. Now suppose you tell me just what they want of you. Over the phone you said –”

Akiva shook his head. “I don’t know what they want, the chief had me come down and we just talked.”

“Does he think you know something or did something?”

“He don’t say, he asked me about my leaving town to go home after the big storm, and he asked me about a man named Kestler. I’m sure he’s got me mixed up with somebody else. But don’t you worry, Rabbi, everything is going to be all right.”

“Because your rebbe said so?” Rabbi Small asked sourly. “That’s right.”

They talked for a while, the rabbi was unable to learn anything specific from Akiva, but as he began to understand what had happened, he grew indignant. Finally, he rose and strode into Lanigan’s office.

“That’s not like you, Chief,” he said.

“Sit down. David. Now what is it that isn’t like me?”

“This fishing expedition. If you’ve got something against Arnold Aptaker, tell him and then he can explain. If you think you have evidence of some crime, charge him so that he can set about defending himself. But just asking him to talk on the chance that he might say something that might incriminate him, that’s not fair and I don’t think it’s even legal.”

“I haven’t arrested him and I’m not holding him. Believe me, David. I’m just trying to help him.”

“But he doesn’t know what it is you think he did.”

“Oh, I believe he knows what he’s done all right,” said Lanigan confidently. “There’s a chance, about one in a hundred, that it was an accident or an understandable mistake, well, let him level with me and I’ll try to see it his way if lean.”

“Then why not tell him outright and –”

“And let him start rigging explanations?” the chief said.

“No, sir. If he’s innocent, if he did it without malice, if –” He broke off suddenly and looked sharply at his visitor from under bushy eyebrows. “You mean to say he has no idea of what I was driving at? No idea at all?”

The rabbi shook his head. “Was it some sort of highway accident the last time he was here? Does it have something to do with Kestler?”

Lanigan stared. “That’s what he thinks? That’s what he told you?” He smiled broadly. “He’s putting you on.”

“All right, then suppose you put me off.”

“It has to do with Kestler all right, with the old man who died,” Lanigan said. “Remember my coming to see you about it because the son, Joe, claimed it was the medicine that killed him? Well, he was right. But it wasn’t Dr. Cohen’s fault, he prescribed something called Limpidine.” He pulled open a drawer and brought forth a bottle. “Here it is, that’s what it says on the label, right? But what’s in the bottle is not Limpidine. It’s a form of penicillin, and the old man was allergic to it, which is why Cohen prescribed the Limpidine in the first place. So the mistake was made in the drugstore by the pharmacist.”

Lanigan sat back and let his visitor digest the information. “All right, mistakes happen,” he went on. “But when I inquired around I found that a mistake like that was all but impossible. It’s about as unlikely as a housewife making the mistake of using the salt for the sugar in baking a cake, and why couldn’t she make a mistake like that? Because for all that the two look alike, they come in different type packages and they’re kept in totally different type containers, that’s the kind of mistake she wouldn’t make even if she were blindfolded, all right, so if it’s not a mistake, it must have been done on purpose. Or can you think of a third possibility?”