The Rabbi and The Rebbetzin (5 page)

“God
was with you,” Adler said, “but when you didn’t schedule any meetings with Him,
He may have lost interest in your problems.”

“I
didn’t know that there were any synagogues in Taiwan.”

“One
can reach God outside the walls of a shul,” Aaron said, before the meeting
shifted back to regular business. The singing part was difficult for him, but
Aaron had practiced for a number of hours and acquitted himself passably.

The
request to deliver a sermon was not unexpected. In his pocket he had a full
text as well as an abridged set of notes. He kept the text in his pocket since
the chairman had requested an informal speech. It made no difference in the end
because he had memorized the entire address. He related how the varying shofar
tones paralleled the experiences of human life. In the lives of human beings,
there are periods of tranquility and periods of stress. The
Tekiah
notes
are symbolic of serenity, while the fragmented notes, the
Teruos
, are a
reminder of conflict. Peaceful periods are constructive, while conflict periods
are disruptive. We surround each broken note with a
Tekiah
so that the
sad notes should not diminish our achievements during periods of complacency or
discourage us from striving for peace in the future. If we make a determined
effort to do so, we will arrive at the lengthy
Tekiah
, which ends the shofar
sequence and symbolizes the time of Messianic redemption.

The
words flowed smoothly and the committee sat enthralled as they listened. They
were moved by Aaron’s sincerity and impressed by his obvious preparation.

When
Aaron left the room, he returned to the chapel to wait for the committee to
reach its decision. Almost an hour later, the Gabbai came out and asked Rabbi
Weiss to join him in the meeting room.

After
he was seated, Levine said to him, “Rabbi, you will be pleased to know that the
committee feels that yeshiva sent two fine young men to apply for the position.
We were gratified to discover that our local yeshiva produces students of such
high quality. It makes me feel that my donations to the yeshiva and the funds I
raise for you from others are not going to waste. Either of the men you sent
would be satisfactory, but after discussing the matter for a long period, we were
able to reach a decision as to our preference. The committee has chosen Aaron
Adler.”

“Adler?”
Rabbi Weiss asked, trying to hide his surprise and doing a poor job of it.                  

“Yes,
Adler
. You seem a little surprised. Why? Did the yeshiva think we would
choose differently?”

By
now Rabbi Weiss had adjusted to the situation. “Our faculty may have predicted
a different outcome, but it is not in any way relevant. Both candidates were
qualified and were presented to your congregation on an equal footing. Since I
too guessed wrong, it might be helpful in my work to learn how a synagogue
committee evaluates candidates. Perhaps you can take a few minutes to explain
the reasons for your choice.”

“We
would be glad to,” Levine answered. “But first let me arrange the
transportation. We will need about an hour to work things out with Rabbi Adler
and there is no point having your wife and Shalom wait around. If you drive
them back to Pittsburgh, one of us will drive Aaron back to the school when we
finish.”

“That’s
very kind of you,” Rabbi Weiss said.

“I’ll
tell you why I chose Aaron,” Levine continued. “The other committee members
will tell you how they arrived at their conclusions. There is no question that
Shalom has a more polished personality. If I were hiring a sales manager, I
would have chosen him. But what we are looking for here is a rabbi. Aaron has rabbinical
eyes, a certain mystery and a certain depth. He gives the impression of being a
scholar. I feel that he has great rabbinical potential.”

Mrs.
Farber spoke next. “I was impressed with the fact that Aaron did not run to the
Mashgiach for help in making up his mind about the job. A rabbi has to be able
to stand on his own two feet. I took Aaron’s actions as a sign of maturity. I
was also moved by his faith which appears to be very genuine.”

“I
went along with Abe,” the Gabbai said. “We already have one rabbi in town who
may be described as a social butterfly and who impresses no one with his piety
or scholarship. Things may be different all year round, but on the High
Holidays, we need the most religious rabbi we can find.”

Al
Goldstein spoke for himself and Reverend Martin. “There are many ways that we
attempt to reach God on the holidays, but prayer is the most significant. If we
were employing a full-time rabbi, we too would have chosen Adler, for he is
clearly the superior scholar. But what we need is someone who prays with warmth
and feeling. Shalom’s worship was heartfelt and inspiring. Even the younger
members will be moved by it.”

Rabbi
Weiss realized that the yeshiva faculty had underestimated the capacity of the
lay people to make spiritual judgments. He didn’t know whether he could change
the prevailing prejudices at the yeshiva, but he personally had learned
something of value. “I want to thank you again,” he said to the committee, “and
I am leaving Aaron Adler in your care.”

When
he returned to the chapel, he called Aaron out to speak privately with him in
the corridor. “I don’t know whether congratulations are in order, Aaron, but
the shul committee has selected you for the position.”

Aaron
turned pale and registered deep shock. “How could they choose me over Shalom?”
he wanted to know.

“They
told me why. I can’t explain it to you now because you have to go right into
the meeting room to negotiate. One of the committee members will drive you home
when it’s over. If you want more information, see me in the office tomorrow.”

With
Aaron walking to the room, Rabbi Weiss returned to the chapel to break the news
to Shalom. He could sense a certain amount of pain when Shalom gathered that he
had not succeeded. It was not that he wanted the position badly, but he was
somewhat unhappy that the committee judged that Aaron Adler was superior to
him. It must be that the Almighty simply did not want me to have this position.
In a chastened mood, he joined Rabbi and Mrs. Weiss for the ride back to the
yeshiva.

When
Aaron returned to the meeting room, the members of the committee congratulated
him upon his selection and wished him good fortune. Levine then asked the
Gabbai to outline the full scope of Aaron’s duties during the holiday season. There
were very few surprises in the summary, with the exception of the contents of
the Yom Kippur sermons. Aaron was now being introduced to the concept of a
motivational sermon.

“It
has long been our practice, Rabbi Adler,” Joe Feinberg said, “that in our shul,
we make two holiday appeals. The Kol Nidrei appeal is for the benefit of the
synagogue, while the Yizkor appeal goes for an outside cause, such as Bonds for
Israel or the UJA-Federation in Pittsburgh. This year, it has been decided to
appeal for the bonds. You do not make the actual appeal yourself because that
is the president’s privilege. Your sermon though, has to put the congregation
in a receptive mood. I am sure that you know the importance of our synagogue to
the Dunberg community and the need for a shul that is loyal to the traditions
of our people. We do have quite a struggle to keep the shul going, because our
membership is limited and the wealthier members of the community belong to the
Conservative synagogue. The Yizkor appeal, on the other hand, reflects our
relationship with the Jewish people as a whole. We support the State of Israel
to the best of our ability, and we feel that the cause is very important to our
membership.”

In
a way, Aaron was relieved that he would not be burdened with the problem of
choosing an appropriate theme for his Yom Kippur sermons. He also did not
foresee any difficulty with speaking about the importance of prayer and
worship. What troubled him was the speech dedicated to the support of Israel
Bonds. He was aware that bonds were a part of the life of modern Israel and
that the organization was representative of the Israeli government. He did not
indicate his misgivings at the meeting, but Aaron Adler was not a Zionist. In
his high school years, he had some contact with youth groups that had strong
leanings towards Israel. He occasionally attended meetings and activities of Bnei
Akiva and NCSY. He himself, however, did not become an active member of either
group, although they both met at his local synagogue in Queens.

Once
he started attending a higher yeshiva, any thought of Zionist activity was
quickly dismissed. The attitude of his rabbis towards modern Israel ranged from
general disapproval to outright hostility. Although there were many acceptable
institutions functioning in Israel, the rabbis made a clear distinction between
those that were
Charedi
(ultra-Orthodox), and those which supported the
State. None of them denied the holiness of the Land of Israel and its central
role in Jewish history. They cringed, however, at the thought of an independent
State, and decried the concept of military service with a standing army of men
and women.

Aaron
believed in the Messiah, but he saw nothing wrong with the attempts of the
Jewish people to determine their own fate in their own land. He was not moved
by the virulence of his rabbis, but he shared their abhorrence of secular Jews
who violated the Sabbath and indulged in non-kosher foods. He imagined that he
could find some good in the social and academic activities of the State, but he
was not too familiar with them. He knew right away that there would be no help
forthcoming in this area from any of the teachers at the yeshiva. He put this
problem aside as Levine continued further with the proceedings.

“Rabbi
Adler, your yeshiva seems unwilling to negotiate the fee for your services and
I doubt that they have even suggested the amount you should request. Our shul
is willing to suggest a fee based on our past experiences and our budgetary
resources. If you prefer to make a request, before you hear our offer, we are
willing to listen.”

Adler
had not given much thought to the problem because he had expected Rabbi Weiss
to indicate some figure for compensation. Rabbi Weiss had not done so, and left
the matter up to Aaron, himself. Afraid of asking too much and offending the
congregation, or asking too little and cheating himself of badly needed funds,
he decided to let the congregation make the offer. “I am perfectly happy,” he
said, “to rely on the fairness and generosity of the synagogue.”

Levine
discussed the rationale of the congregational offer, before he cited a figure. “We
paid Ilan Solomon a sizable fee, because he was with us for five years. He
performed extremely well and his efforts were well received. We also took into
consideration, since you raised the question of fairness, that he was a married
man with five children, who earned a very limited salary at the day school. I
know that we should look at the work of the rabbi, rather than his economic
circumstances, but things don’t work that way in Jewish life. Given that you
have very little experience, and that you are young and not burdened by a wife
and family, we cannot offer you the same salary that we gave to Solomon. You
realize, of course, that Solomon worked on an annual basis, and served as our rabbi
on other holidays and special occasions. What we are offering you only covers
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. If we were to invite you on other occasions, and
you could accept the offer, there will be additional compensation. With that in
mind, I am free to advise you that the congregation is ready to offer you
$1,800 for serving as our holiday rabbi.”

 Aaron
was stunned by the amount mentioned to him. Emerging from a background of
poverty, such sums were not realistic. He would be earning in three days what
his father earned for a full month at a grocery store. Nevertheless, he did not
lose control of the situation. “I am sure that the congregational offer is
fair, and reflects the judgment of experienced businessmen. I accept the offer
in principle, but I would like to point out that I have some special needs in
performing as a rabbi. I will need a
talis
, a
kittle
, and white yarmulkes
in order to perform. I will also need a number of books relating to the prayer
services and Torah readings. I would, therefore, ask the synagogue to add an
allowance for these supplies to the base offer.”

Levine
could not help but admire Adler’s wisdom. He knew that the man was afraid to
bargain about the basic fee, for fear of offending the committee. In his
sagacity, the candidate had found an inoffensive way to ask the committee for
more money. Under different circumstances, Levine might have been tempted to
ask Aaron to borrow a
talis
and
kittle
from the shul, but he felt
that that would not be appropriate. “I don’t think we should waste any time
worrying about a one-time fee. I know the committee well enough to be certain
that they will trust my judgment in this matter. We will not have to send you
out while we discuss the issue. On behalf of the shul, I am prepared to add to
our original offer, the sum of $500 for religious supplies. By the way, I might
add that some of our members make personal pledges to the rabbi and cantor when
they are called to the Torah. If this happens in your case, you are free to
keep the proceeds.”