"If you're referring to the clause that says we should use it for a school or for a permanent residence for the rabbi—"
"No. Mr. Kaplan. I'm not concerned with that clause. I recognize that Mr. Goralsky probably would not have wanted the use of the property to be restricted that way. But to make sure, I took the trouble to see his son. Ben, he confirmed my opinion, there's no problem on that score. I'm referring to Mr. Goralsky's wishes with respect to Aptaker and the store he occupies."
"Aptaker? Who's he?" asked Goodman.
"He's the guy that runs the drugstore in the block."
"That's right, Mr. Reinhardt," said the rabbi. "He got a heart attack the same day that he received a letter from Mr. Kaplan telling him that the block was being sold and that he should apply to the new owner for the renewal of the lease he had requested. His wife thinks that's what triggered the attack."
"Oh, but you can't blame the temple for that." Paul Goodman was shocked.
"That's right," said Dr. Muntz. "You can't tell how a man is going to react to bad news— or good news either. I had a patient who had a heart attack when he heard he'd won the state lottery."
"I'm not blaming you for Mr. aptaker's heart attack." the rabbi replied. "I'm blaming you for disregarding Mr. Goralsky's wishes and not renewing Aptaker's lease."
"When that property came into our hands, it became our property," said Kaplan, "and we were free to manage and develop it as we saw fit. Since we were going to sell it, naturally I wouldn't renew Aptaker's lease, because that could kill the sale. When the board voted to sell, I wrote to Aptaker, told him that there was a new owner, or that there would be as soon as papers were passed and suggested he apply to him for renewal on his lease. I can't be responsible for what Safferstein does once he takes over. It's a straight business deal."
"Yes, I suppose it is," the rabbi said sadly. "The temple sells the property because it is good business, and a small man like Aptaker who spent his life building up a business is tossed out on the street, and it's all right because it's business."
"It happens all the time, Rabbi," Kaplan pointed out. "You can't stand in the way of progress."
"Progress!"
Kaplan grinned. "All right, then change. You can't stand in the way of change, either."
The rabbi nodded. "Yes, in the face of change, the individual sometimes gets run over. It's all a matter of business, as you say. But is this the sort of business the temple should be engaged in? Ours is an ethical religion. Is this what an institution dedicated to that religion should do?"
"Well, speaking as a lawyer," Goodman said, "I say if it's legal, it's ethical."
"All right, Mr. Goodman, so let's consider if it's legal." The rabbi stopped and picked up a briefcase from the floor and set it on the table in front of him. "I have here the correspondence of Mr. aptaker on the matter of the renewal of his lease, first with Mr. Goralsky and then with Mr. Kaplan. I'll pass it around later if you like, but I can summarize it for you." He drew a sheaf of papers from the case. "Here is Mr. aptaker's request for a renewal of his lease which is due to expire in a few months, and here is Mr. Goralsky's reply." He read the letter to them. "Notice the wording; not the usual business style, is it? I asked his secretary about it, she remembered it very well because she had had to do the letter twice, the first time, she edited his dictation as she usually did to conform to normal business usage. But this time Mr. Goralsky was annoyed with her for it and insisted she should write it the way he dictated it because he wanted to show Aptaker that he appreciated the way he had dealt with him over the years. So she rewrote the letter and, perhaps a little spitefully, worded it pretty much as he gave it to her, that letter he signed, and the lawyers were notified accordingly and prepared the leases."
"Yeah, but then Aptaker got greedy," Kaplan said. "He wanted to have one of the clauses struck out, as I recall."
"That's right," the rabbi agreed. "He wrote back to say that the clause calling for him to insure his plate glass had been crossed out in the previous lease and that he'd like to have it left out of this one as well."
"And what did Goralsky say to that?" demanded Goodman. "He didn't, he died."
"Well, I guess that was Aptaker's tough luck then," said Goodman.
"The letter to Aptaker was written after Mr. Goralsky took to his bed in the illness that finally carried him off, that's when he wrote his will, too," the rabbi pointed out.
Goodman shrugged. "So what? No mention was made of it in the will and it's what's in the will that counts."
"Not in Jewish law," said the rabbi.
"What's that?"
"What do you mean?" Kaplan demanded. "Who says so?"
"The Talmudic tractate Gittin says so, as well as the Shulchan Arnch. In Jewish law, that is to say in Talmudic law, a distinction is made in the matter of wills on the basis of the physical condition of the testator. If the testator is bari, that is, healthy, then the law is as the secular law: only what is in the will counts. But if the testator is shechiv me-ra, that is, seriously sick and confined to his bed, and even more if it is a terminal illness as in Mr. Goralsky's case, then the law requires that his wishes are to be carried out even if not stated in the will, the reason for this special exception to the law is that it serves to give the dying man peace of mind in his last days. Now, it was clearly Mr. Goralsky's wish that Aptaker be permitted to renew his lease, so according to Jewish law, it has the same force as though it were so stated in the will."
"Yeah, but how were we expected to know that?" Goodman asked.
"You are not, which is why you are expected to consult with the rabbi of the congregation." said the rabbi sweetly.
"No. I mean what Goralsky intended for Aptaker."
"Ah, because Aptaker mentioned it in his letter to the temple. Let me read it." He selected a paper from the folder and then pushed his eyeglasses up on his forehead to see more clearly. "Here it is. 'Shortly before his death Mr. Goralsky agreed to renew my lease on the same terms and was kind enough to say that he was glad to do it because he considered me a good tenant as per enclosed letter.' And that's a copy of the letter I just read you."
The board members stirred uneasily in their seats, casting glances at Kaplan as though looking to him for direction. Dr. Muntz spoke for the first time. "Then are you saying, Rabbi, that the temple is bound by Talmudic law to honor Aptaker's request for renewal because that's what Mr. Goralsky wanted?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Doctor." The rabbi looked about him triumphantly.
Kaplan bestirred himself. "Just a minute. Rabbi. I'm no Talmudist, but my father-in-law was, and Edie and I lived with him for a few years when we were first married and I was going to law school, we had a lot of discussions about law in general, and as I recall, he said that where there was a difference between Talmudic law and the law of the country, it was the country law that applied."
The rabbi nodded. "Dina de-malchuta, dina, the law of the land is the law."
"Well then..." Kaplan sat back in his chair, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.
"But the principle is severely restricted," said the rabbi with a smile. "Some rabbis hold that it should be applied only in those matters where the administration of the country alone is concerned, as in taxation. Obviously, it could not have complete application or the Talmud, the Oral Law, which like the Written Law, the Torah, we believe to be the word of God, would be completely invalidated. No, no, it's only where our law runs counter to the secular law, where it is in actual disagreement with it, where something we consider legal is actually illegal according to secular law, that the principle applies, and that for obviously purely practical purposes."