Harry Kemelman - Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home

“Some. Bill Jacobs, Sue Arons. Adam Sussman. But, then, a lot won’t be in until late tonight or sometime tomorrow. The chances are I’ll see most of them over at the rabbi’s house tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why?” asked Gorfinkle. “Is he holding some kind of a meeting?”

“Oh, all the kids from the post-confirmation class sort of drop in the first Sunday they get back for vacation. You know, it’s like an open house. They just talk, tell how things are going at school.”

“Hm—that’s interesting.” Gorfinkle was interested. “How come? I mean, how did this—this tradition start?”

“No tradition. Just that sometimes he held the confirmation class at his house, and we kind of got into the habit of going there—you know, every now and then.”

“And he’s popular with you kids? You all like him?”

She considered. The question struck her as requiring thought, not because she was unsure of her feelings, but because they were hard to frame in words. “He’s not fun, exactly,” she said tentatively, “and he doesn’t try to be pally or even friendly. He doesn’t try to be anything, I don’t think, but—”

“Yes?”

“An equal. I guess,” she said, finally finding the words. “When you’re with him, you don’t feel like a kid.”

The rabbi phoned Wasserman as soon as he arrived home Sunday. He caught him just returning from the board meeting.

“Mr. Wasserman? Rabbi Small. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get back in time. They had arranged for a party for me at the college for Saturday night. I didn’t know anything about it.”

“Nu, it happens, If the party was for you, you had to go.”

“Tell me, did anything happen at the meeting? Anything special?”

“Well. Gorfinkle announced the new committees, like I thought.”

“Yes? And how are they?”

“Well, if he appointed they should do a job. I guess it’s all right. After all, he didn’t appoint idiots. But if what he wanted is to start a fight, the appointments are good for that, too.”

“That bad, eh? And what did Paff say? Was he there?”

“Oh, he was there. And that’s the only nice part of it, because he didn’t say a word, not Paff, not Edelstein, not Kallen, none of them. So I guess they’re giving in, and for a while we’ll have a little peace. But how long it will keep up?”

But the rabbi was disturbed. “What do you mean, they didn’t say a word? Did they have a chance to? Was there time for discussion?”

“Oh, time, there was plenty, but no objections, no discussion, not one word, I tell you.”

The rabbi waited for Wasserman to say more, but nothing was forthcoming. “I don’t like it.” he said at last.

“Why not?” said Wasserman. “You remember I told you it was like a marriage. If an open break doesn’t develop, it can be fixed up.”

“Yes, but if they don’t talk at all, if the husband insults the wife and she doesn’t even bother to answer, then it can mean that she’s already made up her mind and it doesn’t make any difference anymore. It seems to me Paff should have reacted. And I don’t like the fact the others remained silent too.”

“You think they decided something already? Well, maybe. It’s possible. After what happened Friday night at the Brotherhood service…”

All right. Meyer,” said Dr. Edelstein as Paff wove his way through the traffic. “We sat tight like you asked us to, and Gorfinkle went ahead and nominated Roger Epstein as chairman of the Ritual Committee and Ted Brennerman as Chairman of the Seating Committee. After his talk Friday night, that was really rubbing it in. So what’s the big plan already?”

Right after the board meeting Paff had insisted he. Edelstein. Kallen, and Arons go for a ride in his car. “I promise to bring you back in half an hour, so you’ll have plenty of time to drive on home for lunch. I got something to show you boys.”

He put his foot on the brake and brought the car to a halt opposite Hillson House. All through the ride he had kept silent, refusing to be drawn, his only response to their questions a self-satisfied smirk. Now he said. “This is it, boys.”

They looked at one another questioningly and then at him. “This is what. Meyer? Have you gone crazy or something?”

He looked at Edelstein and then turned to the back, where Kallen and Arons were sitting. “What you’re looking at, gentlemen, is the site for the new temple. Prime shore front property. You said you’d pull out. Irving, and I told you there was no place else to go. Okay”—his hand swept out to encompass all before them—“here’s a place.”

No one said anything, but Paff seemed not in the least fazed by their silence, which made his deep rumble sound all the more booming. “All of us, we’ve all kicked in with big hunks of dough to the temple. Am I, are we going to let a bunch of Johnny-come-latelies push us around and tell us they’re taking over and we should go peddle our papers someplace else?”

“You mean you want to start a new temple, here on the site of this old ark?” said Edelstein, finally managing to put what they all felt into words.

“I mean I want to use this old ark, as you put it, for the new temple. She’s a hundred and fifty years old, but she’s sound, because that’s how they used to build in those days. Of course, it will cost some money to fix up—”

“Some money?” said Arons. “It’ll cost a fortune.”

“So what? I made my money too late to change my habits. My Laura is after me I should have my suits made to order. ‘You’ve got it now; spend it.’ But I can’t. I can’t get interested enough in clothes to bother. When I play poker, I play penny ante, and I notice that I get as much fun out of winning ninety cents as I would if it were ninety dollars. And Irving is just as sore at losing thirty-two cents.”

“Thirty-seven cents.”

“Right! Thirty-seven cents. See what I mean? None of us would ever think of gambling more than he could afford to lose, so it doesn’t make any difference if it’s pennies or dollars; we get the same kind of kick out of it. I used to trade my car every three or four years; now I trade every couple of years. Each time I come in to trade. Al Becker tries to get me to switch to a Lincoln. ‘A man like you,’ he says, ‘should drive a big car.’ What am I? A kid? A college boy? I got to ride around showing off in a big car to impress some dizzy little broad? For me, a car is just to get from one place to another, and I’m used to a small car. But the temple—that’s something else. I helped build it. Jake Wasserman started it, but I was right there behind him plunking down hard cash when it was needed. So now when Gorfinkle and his boys steal the place out from under our noses, do we just sit quiet and keep handing over money to them so they can spend it the way they like? What are we, a bunch of lousy Arabs we should steal away in our tents? I say, let’s give them a fight; let’s give them some competition.”

“But the money—”

“So what? If I’m not going to use my money for things I don’t care about, and I’m not going to use it for things I do care about, what am I going to use it for?”

“Just what do you have in mind?” asked Edelstein. “They’re asking eighty thousand—”

“Eighty thousand? For an old ark?”

“Shore front, Irv, shore front. And there’s a nice piece of land across the street that’s part of the deal. That would make a nice parking lot. Believe me, it’s a good investment even for a businessman.”

“You mean you want us to buy it outright, just like that with our own money?”