“For a while it looked good. And then we sold out to a big outfit, one of the giants, and I was working for a big corporation again. So now, when I’m forty-five. I’m a section head, which means I’m middle management. And that’s what I’ll probably be until I retire. I admit that when I first threw myself into temple politics, it was because I felt I could do a better job. I still think that’s part of it. But I don’t kid myself. I know that a good part of it is just to be somebody, to have an influence on the people around me.”
“Aren’t you being overcynical and missing the main point, as cynicism usually does?” the rabbi asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you say that some do it by building big houses or other kinds of ostentation, while still others do it by contributing to good causes. That’s the major difference between people, isn’t it? Nowadays we’re all amateur psychologists and psychiatrists. We all presume to know the motives of men. But do we? In the last analysis, the only way you can judge by is results, and the man who uses his wealth for worthy causes, even ostentatiously, is better than the man who uses it only for ostentation. Yours is a very cynical view of the temple, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Gorfinkle. But cynicism is only disappointed idealism. We Jews speak of ourselves as a nation of priests, and it would follow that if we were completely true to our ideal, we would spend all our time in the temple in study and worship. We even tried it. In the small ghetto towns of Poland and Russia, there were those who did just that. But someone had to work, and it was usually the wives. I don’t think I care for that. It’s one of my objections to the monastery and the convent. I don’t think the best way to live in the world is to avoid it. Ours is a practical religion, in which parnossah, making a living, is as important as prayer, and the world as important as the temple.”
If he says something that you can show is similar to your position, point it out to him, even if you have to twist his words a little to make it fit. The psychology of that is that he’s anxious to get off the hook, and you’re giving him a face-saving out.
“Then why/ Gorfinkle interposed swiftly, “have you consistently objected to our program. Rabbi? It’s what we want, that the membership realize the temple is part of the world and has a role to play in the world.”
“I don’t object to your program as a program, although I think each individual should decide these things for himself. What concerns me is that it tends to antagonize the other party to the point where there is danger that they will actually leave the temple organization. I have seen signs of it for some time at the board meetings. In all fairness, the other side has been equally intemperate. There has been little or no discussion on the merits of issues these last few months. Rather, what your side has proposed the others have opposed, and when they made suggestions, they were similarly treated by your group and for the same reason. No organization can survive that kind of feuding. In the last few days, however, you have discarded what little propriety you have up till now maintained. Mr. Brennerman’s sermon—”
“What about his sermon?”
“He had no right to abuse the privilege of the pulpit in that way.”
“Just a minute, Rabbi. I heard that speech, and you didn’t. Taking it as a whole. I approved of it.” Gorfinkle’s lips turned up in his humorless smile.
“Then you are equally guilty, Mr. Gorfinkle.”
“You forget that I am the president—”
“Of the temple organization. Mr. Gorfinkle. The pulpit belongs to the rabbi.”
“I didn’t know that, Rabbi,” said Gorfinkle mildly. “Is that Jewish law?”
“It is the law of common courtesy! As rabbi. I am superintendent of the religious school. Would I presume to take over a class from one of the teachers without first asking his permission?”
It is sometimes worthwhile to yield a minor point.
“Well maybe Ted did get a little out of line. He’s enthusiastic and gets carried away.”
“And yesterday at the board meeting, you nominated Roger Epstein as chairman of the Ritual Committee.”
“What’s wrong with Roger Epstein?” Gorfinkle demanded indignantly.
“Nothing as a person. But he has had no temple background whatsoever and never attended one until coming here. The chairman of the Ritual Committee approves the order of the services. Under the circumstances. Mr. Paff s group, which tends toward Conservatism, might consider it a deliberate affront.”
“Now hold on. Rabbi. I picked Roger because the Ritual Committee is the most important and he’s my best friend. I’m not worried about his ignorance of the order of the service. I figure you and the cantor between you pretty much arrange that. But the chairman of the Ritual Committee distributes the honors on the holidays. Our people set great store by these honors and rightly so. I notice all the time Meyer Paff was chairman of the Ritual Committee he made political hay out of it. But while we’re speaking of impropriety. Rabbi, how about the impropriety of getting a bunch of kids together, including my own son, and lecturing them on these matters from the opposition point of view? Isn’t that abusing your privilege?”
“Kids? We accept the thirteen-year-old as a member of a minyan. He can be called to the reading of the Torah, which is instruction to the congregation. He can even lead the services. Can we say that bright young college people of eighteen and nineteen are too immature to understand what is going on in their temple community?”
“Look, Rabbi, I don’t want any of your Talmudic runaround. I consider that politics, and I’m telling you I want it stopped.”
The rabbi smiled. “You mean, you want me to stop talking to the young people?”
“I mean that you are not to talk to them about temple affairs. And I’m not asking you. I’m ordering you.”
“You can’t, /am the rabbi here, and it is for me to decide what I shall say to the members of the Jewish community.”
There comes a point in your discussion when you realize there’s no chance of an agreement or reconciliation. When you reach that point, don’t pussyfoot. Lower the boom and lower it all the way.
Gorfinkle nodded. “You’ve said enough, Rabbi, to prove to me that you’re part and parcel of Paff s apparatus. I’m not surprised. I suspected as much, as did the members of my group. We had a meeting last night, and I remind you that we represent a clear majority of the board. It was agreed that I was to talk to you and point out to you the impropriety of your behavior in the hope of bringing about a change. That’s what this little conference is all about. But when I give them the gist of this conversation, along with your cavalier attitude toward religion in general, which has just recently come to my attention. I am sure they will vote to terminate your association with us.
“Of course, you can fight it, but you’re a smart man, and I’m sure you realize that for a rabbi to fight for his job and lose is to jeopardize his chances of getting another. I can tell you now that you will lose and that after that meeting you won’t be rabbi any longer.” He rose to his feet in sign that the conference was over.
“I did not get my smicha from you.” said the rabbi, also rising, “and you can’t withdraw it. I am the rabbi of the Jewish community of Barnard’s Crossing. The temple pays me, but I am not the creature of the temple, and I do not need a temple or synagogue to fulfill my function.”
Outside there was the loud and persistent sound of an automobile horn.
Gorfinkle shrugged. “I’m sorry. Rabbi.” he said smoothly. “That’s Stu now, and I have to go.”