Friday The Rabbi Slept Late

that.'

'Sure, a couple of drops a week. That kind of leak wouldn't burn out a motor.'

'A couple of drops when she was standing still. But she must have been gushing when I drove. I put two quarts in on my way to New Hampshire. That's no couple of drops. Now that I know from my own knowledge.'

The door of Becker's office opened and his junior partner, Melvin Bronstein, came in. Bronstein was a youngish man of forty, tall and slim with wavy black hair just beginning to gray at the temples; deep, dark eyes, an aquiline nose, and sensitive lips.

'What's going on?' he asked. 'Is it a private argument, or can anyone join? I'll bet they could hear you guys down the block.'

'What's going on is that in our temple we've got ourselves a rabbi who can be depended on to do everything except what he's supposed to do,' said Becker.

Bronstein looked at Schwarz for enlightenment. Happy to have a somewhat less overpowering audience, Schwarz told his story while Becker rustled papers on his desk in elaborate unconcern.

Bronstein beckoned from the doorway of the office, and somewhat reluctantly Becker went over. Schwarz turned away so he would not appear to eavesdrop.

'Ben is a good customer of ours, Al,' whispered Bronstein. 'I don't think the company would question it.'

'Yeah? Well, I've had dealings with the Ford Company since before you got out of high school, Mel,' said Becker aloud.

But Bronstein knew his partner. He grinned at him. 'Look, Al, if you turn Ben down you'll only have Myra to deal with. Isn't she president of the temple Sisterhood this year?'

'And last year, too,' Ben could not help adding.

'It won't do our business any good to have her sore at us,' Bronstein said, once again lowering his voice.

'Well, the Sisterhood don't buy cars.'

'But the husbands of all the members do.'

'Goddammit, Mel, how am I going to explain that I want the company to put a new engine in a car because the rabbi of my temple decided they ought to?'

'You don't have to mention the rabbi at all. You don't even have to explain how it happened. You can just say that the seal let go while the car was being driven.'

'And what if the company sends down an investigator?'

'Have they ever done it to you, Al?'

'No, but they have with some other agencies.'

'All right,' said Bronstein with a grin, 'if he comes, you can introduce him to your rabbi.'

Suddenly Becker's mood changed. He chuckled deep in his throat and turned to Schwarz. 'All right, Ben, I'll write the company and see if they'll go along. I'm only doing it, you understand, because you sold Mel here a bill of goods. He's the original big-hearted kid, the softest touch in town.'

'Aw, you're just teed off because the rabbi was involved,' said Bronstein. He turned to Schwarz. 'Al would have gone along from the beginning, and glad of a chance to help out a customer, too, if you hadn't mentioned the rabbi.'

'What have you got against the rabbi, Al?' asked Ben.

'What have I got against the rabbi?' Becker removed the cigar from his mouth. 'I'll tell you what I've got against the rabbi. He's not the man for the job; that's what I've got against him. He's supposed to be our representative, yet would you hire him as a salesman for your company, Ben? Come on now, be truthful.'

'Sure, I'd hire him,' said Schwarz, but his tone did not carry conviction.

'Well, if you were fool enough to hire him, I hope you would be smart enough to fire him the first time he got out of line.'

'When has he got out of line?' demanded Schwarz.

'Oh, come on, Ben. How about the time we had the Fathers and Sons breakfast and we brought down Barney Gilligan of the Red Sox to talk to the kids. He gets up to introduce him and what does he say? He gives the kids a long spiel about how our heroes are scholars instead of athletes. I could've gone through the floor.'

'Well…'

'And how about the time your own wife had him come down to pep up the girls of the Sisterhood to put on a big campaign for a Chanukah gift for the temple, and he tells them that keeping Judaism in their hearts and a kosher home was more important for Jewish women than campaigning for gifts for the temple.'

'Just a minute, Al. Naturally I wouldn't say anything against my own wife, but right is right. That was a luncheon meeting, and Myra served shrimp cocktail, which ain't kosher-type food and which you couldn't blame a rabbi for being sore about.'

'And with all this in-fighting going on, you keep trying to get me to join the temple,' said Bronstein with a wink at Schwarz.

'Sure,' said his partner, 'because as a Jew and a resident of Barnard's Crossing you owe it to yourself and to your community to become a member. As for the rabbi, he won't be there forever, you know.'

3

The Board of Direstors were using one of the empty classrooms to hold their regular Sunday meeting. Jacob Wasserman, as the president of the temple and chairman of the board, sat at the teacher's desk. The rest, fifteen of them, had squeezed themselves into the pupils' seats, their legs stretched out uncomfortably in the aisles. A few in back were sitting on the desks themselves, their feet on the chairs in front. Except for Wasserman, the beard was composed of younger men, half still in their thirties and the rest in their forties and early fifties. Wasserman was dressed in a lightweight business suit, but the others wore the conventional costume in Barnard's Crossing for a warm Sunday in June-slacks, sport shirts, and jackets or golf sweaters.

Through the open windows came the roar of a power lawn mower operated by Stanley, the janitor. Through the open door came the shrill chanting of the children in the assembly down the hall. There was little formality to the proceedings, members speaking whenever they felt like it, and more often than not, as now, several at once.

The chairman rapped on the desk with a ruler. 'Gentlemen, one at a time. Now what were you saying, Joe?'

'What I was trying to say is that I don't see how we can transact business in all this noise. And I don't see why we don't use the small sanctuary for our regular meetings.'

'Out of order,' called another voice. 'That's Good and Welfare.'

'Why am I out of order?' demanded Joe belligerently. 'All right, I'll make a motion that all meetings be conducted in the small sanctuary from now on. That's New Business.'

'Gentlemen, gentlemen. As long as I'm chairman, anyone who has something important to say can say it any time. Our meetings aren't so complicated that we can't go out of order occasionally. The secretary can always set it right in his minutes. The only reason we aren't using the sanctuary, Joe, is that there's no place for the secretary to write on. However, if the members feel that a classroom like this is not a good place for a meeting, we could have Stanley set up a table in the sanctuary.'

'That brings up another point, Jacob. How about Stanley? I don't think it looks right to our Gentile neighbors for him to be out working in plain sight on Sunday, especially since he's a Gentile and it's his holiday as much as theirs.'

'What do you suppose they do on a Sunday? You walk along Vine Street and you'll see practically every one of them put cutting the lawn, trimming the hedge, or maybe painting their boat.'

'Still, Joe has a good point there,' said Wasserman. 'Of course, if Stanley objected we certainly wouldn't insist. He's got to work here Sundays because of the school, but maybe it would be better if he kept inside. On the other hand, nobody tells him to work outside. In that respect, he's his own boss. He can arrange his work any way he wants. He's outside now because he wants to be.'

'Yeah, but it doesn't look right.'