Gittel pushed her plate aside, planted her elbows on the table, and leaned forward, the light of battle in her eyes. "David, you are a rabbi, but you don't know what you're talking about. It's not your fault." she added magnanimously, "you haven't lived here long enough to know what's going on. It's not only in the restrictions they impose on the rest of us on the Sabbath, but there are whole areas in which they have complete control. They control marriage; they control who is a Jew. They practically control our hotels and restaurants. And all on the basis of ancient regulations that have no bearing in a modern society. Because a man's name happens to be Cohen, they refuse him permission to marry a divorced woman on the grounds that he is of the family of Cohanim or priests, and according to Leviticus or Deuteronomy or someplace, the priest must not marry a divorcee. A woman suffers all kinds of cruelty and abuse from her husband, and she cannot get a divorce because only the husband may grant a divorce."
"The husband can be ordered by the rabbinical court to grant a divorce." said Uri. "and they can even put him in jail if he refuses."
"And what if he is already in jail?" his mother demanded. "And how about the children of Jewish fathers and non-Jewish mothers who have been declared by the courts to be non- Jews—"
"But if she converted—"
"But they decide if it's a proper conversion," she ended triumphantly.
The rabbi leaned back in his chair. "And what law. anywhere, has ever affected everyone exactly the same? There are always exceptional cases which are unfair to the individual. But society tolerates them because a perfect law is impossible and life without law is unthinkable. If there are too many such exceptional cases— that is. if the cases stop being exceptional and become the rule— then either changes are made in the law. or it is bent a little. reinterpreted, to accommodate to the new situation. And that's what's happened here in the matter of mixed marriages. But if there were not a group of zealots dedicated to the preservation of the strict interpretation of the law on this matter of who is a Jew and who isn't, say, how long do you suppose Israel would remain a Jewish state? How soon before it became completely cosmopolitan? And then what justification would there be for having it a separate state?"
Jonathan yawned prodigiously, instantly drawing all attention to him.
"The poor child." said Gittel. "our talk has tired him."
"It's past his bedtime." said Miriam. "Come. Jonathan, kiss Daddy and Aunt Gittel and Uri and say good night."
Jonathan dutifully made the rounds, ending in front of Uri. "Are you going away tonight?" he asked wistfully.
"Uri will sleep here tonight." said Miriam, "and if you go to sleep right away, you can be up bright and early and go to shut with him."
Much later, when the adults finally decided to retire for the night. Gittel announced that she would sleep on the sofa so that Uri could have the bed in Jonathan's room. He protested, but Gittel insisted that she preferred the sofa. To Miriam, she explained. "I'd like him to have a comfortable bed for one night at least. Besides. Jonathan will like seeing him in the room with him when he wakes up."
As she helped Miriam make up the sofa, she said. "Your friend, this Stedman, has he gone back to America yet?"
"No. I'm sure he hasn't. I'm sure he'd call us to say goodbye before he left."
"His son, he's in real trouble?"
"I don't know," said Miriam. "We’ve been worrying about it. We haven't heard a word from Dan since that night at the King David. He's probably in Tel Aviv seeing what he can do at the embassy."
"Too bad, he is a nice man."
"Maybe he'll drop by tomorrow for kiddush. He usually does."
"So maybe I'll see him. Maybe I can help. I know lots of people."
Chapter Forty-Eight
It was no accident that Marty Drexler and Bert Raymond stopped in at the Deutch house Saturday morning; they knew the rabbi would be at the temple, and it was the rebbitzin they wanted to see.
She came to the door in response to their ring. "Oh, Mr. Raymond— and Mr. Drexler. The rabbi is in the temple."
"Oh, Yes, I guess he would be. wouldn't he?" Raymond sounded disappointed, but he did not turn away.
There was an awkward pause, and then to fill it. Mrs. Deutch said. "Won't you come in? Was it something urgent?" She stood aside for them. "I'm just having a second cup of coffee. Would you care to join me?"
"That would be very nice. Mrs. Deutch." said Marty.
She motioned them to the table and brought cups for them. They sat and chatted as they sipped their coffee. They both refused a second cup. Marty held up his hands to emphasize his refusal and said. "It's good coffee, but one's enough for me. What we wanted to see the rabbi about is if he'd come to any decision on a matter we talked to him last week. Did he tell you about it?"
"Yes, he mentioned it." she said cautiously.
"I guess you're concerned as much as he is. How do you feel about staying on here, Mrs. Deutch?" asked Raymond.
"The decision rests with Hugo." She removed the cups. "I'm sure you understand that, Mr. Raymond."
"Sure," said Marty. "I make the decisions in my house, but my wife tells me what to decide. I got an idea it's the same in most households. Now I got an idea that the rabbi listens and sets store by what you got to say."
"Well, of course—"
"I mean, that if you don't like the idea, if you think the rabbi is too old to undertake a new job or you got it in your head to retire to Florida, then we're barking up the wrong tree, and the sooner we know it, the quicker we can start making some alternate plans."
"As far as I'm concerned, I like it here. And I know Hugo does. Whether he's too old is up to you and your board to decide. I know he doesn't think so. And I don't think so. As for retiring to Florida. I'm sure it's the farthest thing from his mind."
"Well, if we've got you in our corner—"
"But I can tell you that what concerns him most." she went on. "is whether there is really a job here."
"I know what you mean." said Raymond earnestly, "and of course. I explained to Rabbi Deutch that we were approaching him because we had reason to believe that there is a job here."
"Look. Mrs. Deutch," said Marty Drexler impulsively. "Let me lay it on the line. When Rabbi Small took a leave of absence, and I mean took it, because Lord knows it wasn't offered, as far as I was concerned, the job was available right then and there. If it had been in my office, I would have had a replacement before the guy had cleared his whiskey bottle out of the desk drawer. And I don't think I'm tough; I'm just fair. I don't mind giving the other guy what's coming to him so long as I get what's coming to me. But a lot of guys on the board, they took the view that it was different with rabbis. So all right we agree to hire somebody temporary, namely, your good husband, while Small takes off for three months or so. But in all that time, we haven't heard a word from him. Not one word. Not so much as a line saying. 'Be seeing you soon.' Let alone any letter asking for what's happening here. So now a lot more guys have come around to my way of thinking— that there is a job here, and that we can take a hint that's like a knock on the head with a hammer as good as the next guy."
"Have you written him?"
"No. we haven't, and if somebody suggested it in the board. I'd get up on my hind legs and holler loud and clear, because I don't think it's dignified for us to write him and beg him to tell us what his plans are."
"And on top of that, Mrs. Deutch." Raymond added, "a couple of our members were in Israel and spent a day with Rabbi Small, and they got the impression— I want to be fair— that he wasn't coming back, and might even leave the rabbinate altogether."