Free Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry by Harry Kemelman Page B

experiences.”
    “I’m afraid, Ethel,” said Schwarz with a bitter smile, “our rabbi is not too enthusiastic about our project.”
    The rabbi colored. “It would be hypocritical of me if I were to say I had no interest in the appearance and size of the synagogue where I was serving. The physical plant is a rough indication of the size and importance of the community, and naturally as a young man not without ambition I prefer to be associated with a large, growing, vigorous community rather than one on the decline. When friends of mine, former classmates at the seminary, come to visit me, I am not unmindful of their appreciation of our synagogue with all that implies. But size for the sake of size? When there is no need? Not even in the foreseeable future? Barnard’s Crossing is a small community, and even at Kol Nidre, when temples and synagogues are traditionally crowded, we have empty seats. And that is only one night in the year.
    “That you want to perform an act of spititual dedication does you great credit, Mr. Schwarz, but it is only fair to point out that what you propose is not in the general direction of our tradition. Those churches, full of marvelous statues and paintings – to the worshipers they are holy. The buildings themselves are holy. The ground on which they stand is hallowed ground. But this is not our way. We are subject to the commandment, Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image. Our synagogues and temples – the piles of masonry, I mean – are not in themselves holy, only the words that are said there. For a long time, we got along very well housing the Ark of the Lord in only a tent.”
    “I’m not interested in sermons, Rabbi,” said Schwarz coldly. “Are you trying to tell me that you plan to tout Goralsky off the project?”
    “I certainly have no intention of seeking him out, but if he were to ask my opinion I would have to be candid with him.”
    “You’d say you were opposed to it?”
    The rabbi temporized. “It would depend on what he asked.”
    “And what do you mean by that?”
    “If he were to ask if I had any objection to the new chapel I would tell him, of course, that adding it to the main structure is not contrary to either our doctrine or our tradition.” He shrugged. “If, however, he were to ask if I thought it necessary, I could not in all conscience say I did. And if he were to ask if I thought it was a worthy project, a worthy use of the money, I would have to tell him that I could think of dozens of uses to which the money could be better put.”
     
    “Of all the smug, sanctimonious! –” Schwarz shook his head angrily. “You know, that’s what comes of giving a man too much security. When they first proposed giving him a five-year contract, I opposed it, and by God I knew what I was doing.”
    “He doesn’t mince words, our rabbi,” said Ethel as she loaded the dishwasher. “What I don’t understand is that it’s all meant for him. I mean, that sanctuary would really be his – I’d think he’d like his own chapel instead of the public auditorium.”
    “That’s just the point. In a sense I was doing it for him. At least, he’s the one who will benefit most from it. Why wouldn’t he want it? I’ll tell you why – it’s just to defy me. There can’t be any other reason.”
    “Well, I don’t know what he had in mind, but it seems pretty bad manners on his part. I mean, as our guest, the least he could have done was say it was nice. Even if he didn’t like it, he could have been sort of noncommittal.”
    “That’s what I’m telling you. That’s just my point. He went out of his way to be unnecessarily unpleasant. And that can only mean that he was opposing me on personal grounds. Maybe he’s sore about my voting against him on the new contract, and is trying to get back at me.”
    “Do you think he’ll talk to Goralsky about it?”
    “He’d better not, that’s all I can say. He’d better not. Because if he does, then