Monday the Rabbi Took Off

Chapter Four

He asked for three months' leave of absence and they gave him three months' leave." Harvey Kanter threw one leg over the arm of his chair, ran a hand through his brush of iron-gray hair and focused protruding blue eyes on his brother-in-law. Ben Gorfinkle. "So how do you figure they done him dirty?" Harvey was a good ten years older than Gorfinkle. in his fifties, and was married to the elder of the two sisters. He tended to patronize him just as his wife did her younger sister. As editor of the Lynn Times-Herald, a local newspaper which might dismiss news of the gravest national or international importance with a paragraph while devoting two columns to the installation of officers of the local Dorcas Society, his editorials expressed the hidebound conservative Republicanism of the owners, but in private life, he was radical, agnostic and generally irreverent— especially when it came to his brother-in-law's connection with the temple in Barnard's Crossing which he found highly amusing.

"But it's without pay, and the guy can't have much money saved up."

"But you said that was what the rabbi said he wanted."

"I said that was what Marty Drexler reported he wanted." Ben remarked.

"And you think this Drexler lied? That's the money-lender, isn't it?"

"Great Atlantic Finance. No, I don't think he lied. He couldn't; it would be bound to come out. But a guy like Marty Drexler could maneuver the rabbi into a position where he'd pretty much have to say it. You know. 'Are you suggesting, rabbi, that you take off for three months and we hire a substitute and pay you. too. for not doing anything?' That kind of thing."

"Well." Kanter said, "the rabbi is a big boy and ought to be able to take care of himself."

"He's actually pretty naive about money and business." Ben shook his head. "He could have had a life contract and a year's sabbatical. The board would have granted that if he had insisted."

"That's what you favored?" Harvey looked at his brother-in-law.

"That's what the board last year agreed to offer him." Ben said. "But it was at the end of the term, and on a lifetime contract we felt that the new board should pass on it. Naturally, we thought the new board wouldn't be much different from the old. You know, each year you drop some deadwood and pick up some new people, but from year to year it's pretty much the same. But the Raymond-Drexler crowd put up a full slate and they won."

"How'd they manage that?"

"Well." said Ben, "for one thing, the congregation was pretty much split down the middle last year. There was my bunch, and there was Meyer Paff s group. We had a majority, of course. That's how we got in. But it was a very slim majority, and after the trouble our kids got into, we were pretty disorganized, and frankly not too interested in campaigning for control of the temple. I guess a lot of us were feeling sort of disenchanted with the whole business. We didn't fight too hard."

Seeing his brother-in-law's skeptical look. Ben tried to explain more fully. "We figured we didn't have to fight too hard. We thought that since the Raymond-Drexler group were so young— under thirty-five— and since they were all relatively new to the temple— most of them had only been members two or three years— we figured they wouldn't get far. But over the years, that age group had been growing in numbers in the congregation, and right now. I guess there are more of them than there are of us older people. The kids grow up. people retire a lot earlier these days, there are a lot of reasons—"

Harvey still looked unconvinced. Ben elaborated:

"The temple was started by Jake Wasserman and Al Becker, people like that, well along in years. They had ties to the tradition which made a temple important to them. It certainly was to Wasserman. who is a deeply religious man. Besides, in those days, when the temple was just getting started, you needed men with money, and I mean a lot of money, like Wasserman and Becker, because they were expected to dig down every now and then to pay a fuel bill or a teacher's salary out of their own pocket when the treasury was empty. They took back notes from the temple organization, but I don't think they really expected that the temple would ever be able to make good on them. And I think some of them are still outstanding. Well, you had to be well along in years to accumulate that kind of money."

"That's true." acknowledged Harvey.

"And then when the temple began to stabilize. I mean when we were meeting current expenses, people like Mort Schwarz came into power. Somewhat younger men, but still pretty well-to-do, because in those days we were always having drives for funds and you couldn't urge someone to make a big donation or pledge if you hadn't made one vourself."

Harvey raised an eyebrow in exaggerated surprise. "Well, you don't have that kind of money. Or do you. Ben, and are keeping it secret?"

But Gorfinkle didn't react. "Oh, by the time my group came into power." he said seriously, "the temple was completely in the black. What they wanted was somebody who could run things efficiently, the administrative-executive type."

"What about Raymond and Drexler? Aren't they administrators, too?"

Ben shook his head. "No, they’re different. They're younger, for one thing. And they're all either in the professions or in business for themselves, and they're all doing pretty well. I guess, but of course they're still on the make. And if you're a lawyer like Bert Raymond or Paul Goodman, being a big shot in an organization like the temple is helpful. People get to know you who otherwise wouldn't. And it helps an accountant like Stanley Agranat and the doctors and dentists who are part of the group."

"You mean they're in it just for the publicity?" Harvey needled him gently. "Not like the rest of you."

"Well, no." said Ben. ignoring the jibe at himself, "that wouldn't be entirely fair. Let's just say that they're mindful of it. For the rest. I imagine that they feel their oats and want to run things. They're in town politics, too, and for the same reason or reasons."

"All right." said Harvey, getting serious at last, "so what have they got against the rabbi that makes you think they want to do him dirty?"

Gorfinkle thought for a moment. "It's a little hard to explain. For one thing, he's the same age. thirty-five, and yet he doesn't think the way they do at all. He's not particularly interested in money or in getting a bigger pulpit with more prestige. He's done some pretty spectacular things in the time he's been here, but he's never courted any publicity for them, not because he's modest, because he isn't, but because he doesn't think such things are important. Maybe they'd tolerate that in an older man, but not in a man their own age. You understand?"

Harvey nodded. "I think so."

"There's another thing: He knows exactly what he thinks and he doesn't hesitate to say it."

"You mean he's dogmatic? Opinionated? Stubborn?"

"No. although it might seem that way sometimes and maybe some people might think so." Ben laughed dryly."/ thought so at one time."

"I remember."

"But it's something different," Ben went on. "Old Jake Wasserman once said of him that he had a kind of radar beam of the Jewish tradition in his mind. When the congregation went off to one side or the other, he heard a beep that told him we were straying and he'd chivy us back on course. The kids, the young high school and college kids like my Stuie, go for him in a big way. I asked Stuie about it, and he said it was because they know exactly where they stand with him. As I got it, he doesn't play up to them and he doesn't talk down to them."

"I think I get the picture. So what are you worried about?"

"Well." said Ben. "for one thing, these kids don't vote."

"Oh, you're worried that this Drexler and his friends will maneuver him out?" said Harvey, trying to see what his brother-in-law was driving at.

"That, and— well"— Ben looked away— "I wouldn't like to see him hurt."

"Is that all?" Harvey laughed and got up from the armchair. "Forget it, Ben. People like that, people with personal integrity, people like Drexler can't hurt."