she took a cup for herself and sat down.
“And what was decided about the contract?” asked the rabbi.
“We didn’t decide anything,” said Wasserman. “It was held over for the next meeting that is, for this coming Sunday.”
The rabbi studied his teacup, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then without looking up, as if thinking aloud, he said, “Tonight is Thursday, three days before the meeting. ? approval were certain and the vote only a matter of form, you would have waited until Sunday to tell me. ? approval were likely but not absolutely certain, you would probably mention it when next you happened to see me, which would be Friday evening at the services. But if it looked as though the vote were uncertain or even likely to go against me, you would not want to mention it Friday evening for fear of spoiling my Sabbath. So your coming tonight can only mean that you have reason to believe I will not be reappointed. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Wasserman shook his head in admiration. Then he turned to the rabbi’s wife and waggled an admonishing forefinger. “Don’t ever try to deceive your husband, Mrs. Small. He’ll find you out in a minute.” He turned back to the rabbi. “No, rabbi, that’s not it, at least not exactly. Let me explain. We have forty-five members on the board of directors. Think of it! It’s more than they have on the board of General Electric or United States Steel. But you know how it is, you put on the board anyone who is a little of a somebody; anyone who does a little work for the temple, or you think maybe he’ll do some work for the temple, you put him on the board. It’s an honor. Without meaning to, you usually end up with a board made up of the richer members of the congregation. Other temples and synagogues do the same thing. So of the forty-five, maybe fifteen come to every meeting. Then maybe ten more come every now and then. The rest, you don’t see them from one year to the next. If only the fifteen regulars were to show up, we would win by a large majority, maybe as much as four to one. To most of us, it was merely a matter of form. We would have voted the contract right then and there. But we couldn’t fight the motion to hold it over for a week. It seemed reasonable and it’s what we do in all important decisions. But the opposition, Al Becker and his group, evidently had something else in mind. He doesn’t like you, Al Becker. Just yesterday I found out that they went to work and phoned the thirty or so who don’t come regular. And from what I can see, they didn’t just argue the question with them. They put on whatever pressure they could. When I heard about it yesterday from Ben Schwarz, I began to contact these people myself, but I was too late, I found that most of them were already committed to Becker and his friends. That’s how matters stand now. If we have the usual meeting with the usual members present, we’ll have no trouble winning. But if he gets the whole board to attend…“He spread his hands, palms up, in token of defeat.
“I can’t say that this comes as a complete surprise to me,” the rabbi said ruefully. “My roots are in traditional Judaism, and when I entered the rabbinate, it was to become a rabbi of the sort my father was and my grandfather before him, to live the life of a scholar, not in seclusion, not in an ivory tower, but as part of the Jewish community, and somehow to influence it. But I’m beginning to think that there is no place for me or my kind in a modern American Jewish community. Congregations seem to want the rabbi to act as a kind of executive secretary, organizing clubs, making speeches, integrating the temple with the churches. Perhaps it’s a good thing, perhaps I’m hopelessly out of fashion, but it’s not for me. The tendency seems to be to emphasize our likeness to other denominations, whereas the whole weight of our tradition is to emphasize our differences. We are not merely another sect with
“And what was decided about the contract?” asked the rabbi.
“We didn’t decide anything,” said Wasserman. “It was held over for the next meeting that is, for this coming Sunday.”
The rabbi studied his teacup, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then without looking up, as if thinking aloud, he said, “Tonight is Thursday, three days before the meeting. ? approval were certain and the vote only a matter of form, you would have waited until Sunday to tell me. ? approval were likely but not absolutely certain, you would probably mention it when next you happened to see me, which would be Friday evening at the services. But if it looked as though the vote were uncertain or even likely to go against me, you would not want to mention it Friday evening for fear of spoiling my Sabbath. So your coming tonight can only mean that you have reason to believe I will not be reappointed. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Wasserman shook his head in admiration. Then he turned to the rabbi’s wife and waggled an admonishing forefinger. “Don’t ever try to deceive your husband, Mrs. Small. He’ll find you out in a minute.” He turned back to the rabbi. “No, rabbi, that’s not it, at least not exactly. Let me explain. We have forty-five members on the board of directors. Think of it! It’s more than they have on the board of General Electric or United States Steel. But you know how it is, you put on the board anyone who is a little of a somebody; anyone who does a little work for the temple, or you think maybe he’ll do some work for the temple, you put him on the board. It’s an honor. Without meaning to, you usually end up with a board made up of the richer members of the congregation. Other temples and synagogues do the same thing. So of the forty-five, maybe fifteen come to every meeting. Then maybe ten more come every now and then. The rest, you don’t see them from one year to the next. If only the fifteen regulars were to show up, we would win by a large majority, maybe as much as four to one. To most of us, it was merely a matter of form. We would have voted the contract right then and there. But we couldn’t fight the motion to hold it over for a week. It seemed reasonable and it’s what we do in all important decisions. But the opposition, Al Becker and his group, evidently had something else in mind. He doesn’t like you, Al Becker. Just yesterday I found out that they went to work and phoned the thirty or so who don’t come regular. And from what I can see, they didn’t just argue the question with them. They put on whatever pressure they could. When I heard about it yesterday from Ben Schwarz, I began to contact these people myself, but I was too late, I found that most of them were already committed to Becker and his friends. That’s how matters stand now. If we have the usual meeting with the usual members present, we’ll have no trouble winning. But if he gets the whole board to attend…“He spread his hands, palms up, in token of defeat.
“I can’t say that this comes as a complete surprise to me,” the rabbi said ruefully. “My roots are in traditional Judaism, and when I entered the rabbinate, it was to become a rabbi of the sort my father was and my grandfather before him, to live the life of a scholar, not in seclusion, not in an ivory tower, but as part of the Jewish community, and somehow to influence it. But I’m beginning to think that there is no place for me or my kind in a modern American Jewish community. Congregations seem to want the rabbi to act as a kind of executive secretary, organizing clubs, making speeches, integrating the temple with the churches. Perhaps it’s a good thing, perhaps I’m hopelessly out of fashion, but it’s not for me. The tendency seems to be to emphasize our likeness to other denominations, whereas the whole weight of our tradition is to emphasize our differences. We are not merely another sect with
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