"I see." Rabbi Deutch tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling as he pondered the matter. Finally, he lowered his head and said, "Still, the rabbinate is not a business. I can't take advantage of a colleague's absence to take over his pulpit as a businessman would take a customer away from a rival." He rose and began striding the room, their eyes following him like spectators at a tennis match. "I have been very happy here. I admit that. And I am happy to hear that my efforts have not been in vain. I am happy to hear from you that I am well thought of in the congregation. That makes me very happy indeed. Now suppose that as a result of my greater experience, some of you, even a majority of you. even the entire congregation"— he stopped in front of them and spread his arms as if physically to include the massed congregation—"felt that I was more attuned to your needs, and I put it that way advisedly, gentlemen, because I don't for a minute want to suggest the possibility that Rabbi Small might not be as effective in his own way as you gentlemen seem to think I am in mine, well, even then, it becomes a question of whether it is right, or at least proper, for me to take over this pulpit on a permanent basis when Rabbi Small left it expecting to come back after his vacation or leave of absence."
"But that's just the point." said Marty. "This wasn't just an ordinary vacation. I ought to know because I'm the guy that arranged it. And I came down ready to talk contract. And because he'd been here almost seven veers and hadn't taken off in all that time, we were ready to give him a sabbatical. But for a sabbatical, you know, you’ve got to have a contract. I mean, you can't give a guy a year's salary or half a year's salary so he can go to Israel and then afterward have him say, 'So sorry, boys, I'm taking a job with this other congregation.' And he wouldn't even discuss it." Marty could not keep the indignation out of his voice. "Absolutely refused to talk about it. So, okay, he doesn't want to talk contract, but what are your intentions, Rabbi? How long do you want? You want to go to Israel? You want to get it out of your system? Fine, I can understand that. I guess a rabbi has to go to Israel at least once to say he's been. You want to take off three weeks or a month even. I guess we could manage all right. But no, he wants an extended leave, three months, maybe more. Now you understand. I'm the treasurer of the temple. I'm the moneyman, and I'm responsible to the whole congregation how I spend the temple's money. It's not my money. It's theirs, the congregation's, so while I'm handling somebody else's money I got to be careful. I mean, suppose somebody in the congregation says to me what right have I got to give away the temple's money when I don't even know is the rabbi coming back or not. So I have to figure what the congregation can be legitimately asked to stand for. And I come up with a formula. I say, 'Okay, Rabbi, let's figure on a vacation basis. You been here six years and little more. All right, practically anybody got a right to two weeks' vacation a year. So that's six times two weeks is twelve weeks or three months. I figure anybody that asks, I could justify a three-month paid vacation.' And what do you suppose the rabbi says to that? He says he'd given the matter some thought, and he's decided that he shouldn't be paid while he's on leave. And to me that means he was practically resigning," said Drexler triumphantly.
"That's the way I see it," Bert Raymond chimed in.
A faraway look came over Rabbi Deutch's face, and when he spoke, his eyes were focused beyond them as if he were addressing an unseen audience. "The responsibility of the spiritual guidance of a congregation can constitute a great drain on one's nervous energies, gentlemen. I can remember when I was a young man in my first pulpit, on more than one occasion the thought came to me that for my own peace of mind I should throw the whole business up and go into some other line of endeavor. You may have approached him when he was tired, exhausted, drained. If he meant to resign, would he not have said so?"
"Well, we thought of that," said Bert Raymond, "and that's why we didn't approach you before. But just recently one of the members, V. S. Markevitch, I think you know him—"
"Yes, I know him."
"Well, V. S. may not be the biggest brain in the world, but he's no fool either. He's a successful businessman, which means he's had experience dealing with people. He saw Rabbi Small in Israel, and he reported that he got the feeling that Rabbi Small wasn't planning to come back. Maybe he was even thinking of leaving the rabbinate."
"Still, you can't tell about these things at second hand—"
"So we're not. Rabbi." said Marty Drexler. "If we were sure Rabbi Small was not coming back, we'd have voted on it in the board and then come to you with a definite offer. All we're asking is would you care to stay on here if the opportunity arose? I mean, if you thought you were going to be through here in a couple of weeks and were flirting with another congregation—"
"No. I haven't considered—"
"So. why not stay on here?"
"As I said. I'd have to think about it. I'd have to talk it over with Mrs. Deutch and see how she feels about it."
"Of course." said Raymond quickly. "By all means, talk it over with Mrs. Deutch. Then a little later we can talk again. Right now. all we're doing is what you might call hedging our bets."
Chapter Thirty-Six
In his talks with Roy, whenever the subject turned to politics. Abdul always couched his criticism of the government or of Israeli Jewish society in a teasing, half-humorous way so that it was hard to tell if he was serious or not.
"Today I went to the bank to cash a check. I stood in a long line, and when I got to the counter, the clerk told me I was in the wrong line. So I stood in another line. When I finally reached the counter, the clerk examined the check and the signature. He looked at the front of the check and then at the back, and then I had to identify myself. Then he looked through a long list to make sure that the one who had given me the check was a depositor and then to match signatures and then to see if there was enough money in his account to cover the check. Then he gave me something to sign and sent me to another clerk. Again I waited in line, and there, too, I had to sign, and only then did I get my money. This is Israeli system. And the check was for twenty lira."
"Less than six dollars American."
"That's right." said Abdul. "I could have earned more in the time it took me to cash the check."
"And is it more efficient in Arab banks," Roy asked.
"No, but with us efficiency is no virtue. You have work split between many people because it is efficient. With us. a job that can be done by one is split between two or three because we feel that they also have to make a living. And the cost is no greater because we do not pay them much, but everyone gets a little. And delay does not bother us because we expect it and are not in a hurry. Usually, it means that some official expects a bribe. We don't resent it because the poor man gets only a small salary and has a large family to feed and maybe a daughter for whom he has to have a dowry."
"And what if the man can't afford the bribe?"
"So perhaps he has a patron who helps him, or he waits and suffers a little. Is it different in America if a man can't afford a lawyer?"
Roy laughed. And then because he was uneasy and troubled and wanted to allay his fears, he decided to tell Abdul what had happened. Abdul would put the whole matter in proper perspective; he would cite similar cases he had known of police stupidity. "Well, maybe you're right. But let me tell you what happened to me." And he told the story from the beginning.
"Memavet?" Abdul interrupted. "You went to see Memavet at his apartment? But that was the place that—"
"Yeah. yeah. I know, but listen." When he told what his father had said about returning later that evening. Abdul smiled approvingly.