That Day the Rabbi Left Town Read Free

Placement Office at the Seminary has the names of quite a few older, experienced men who want to change jobs for one reason or another,” said Bergson.
    â€œSo what do we do? Tell the Seminary to get in touch with us?”
    â€œWell, I’ve got to be in New York next week,” said Bergson. “I could drop in on them and talk to them about our needs. They would have those who might be interested send us resumes.”
    â€œNowadays, if you’re applying for a job, you might have a video made.”
    â€œYeah. They may even have some on file with the Placement Office. If they have, I’ll look at them.”
    â€œThen what do we do, Al? Have them come here and preach a sermon some Sabbath?”
    â€œOnly the finalists,” said Bergson.
    â€œThe finalists?”
    â€œSure. The Ritual Committee will check out all who apply. Maybe we’ll visit some congregations if they’re not too far away. We’ll narrow it down to a short list of three or four, and those we’ll invite to come here for a Sabbath. My guess is that as soon as our people hear that the rabbi has resigned, we’ll have a flood of applicants; relatives, friends of people in our congregation.”
    â€œCome to think of it, Al, I’ve got this uncle in Rhode Island who—”
    â€œSo tell him to apply if he’s interested.”
    â€œWhat kind of money will we be paying?”
    â€œSame as we’ve been paying Rabbi Small, I suppose.”
    â€œShouldn’t we start the new man lower and let him work up to what we’re paying Small? After all, he’s been with us for twenty-five years.”
    Bergson pursed his lips. “I don’t think so. The fact is, Rabbi Small’s salary is, has been, a little below the standard.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œI suppose because he would never ask for a raise, and he didn’t develop a clique who would do it for him,” said Bergson quietly.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t he ask for a raise if he thought he deserved one?”
    â€œAnd if we turned it down, what would it signify? That we’re willing to tolerate him at his present salary, but not at anything more.” Bergson shook his head. “No, no, the only way he could ask for a raise would be on an ‘or else’ basis. ‘Give me a raise or I leave.’ Just to ask with no indication of leaving if the request is not granted would be begging.”
    â€œThat’s right. A guy asks you for a raise, and you turn him down, you know he’s going to begin looking around for another job.”
    â€œAnd it would have been a lot lower if it hadn’t been for Howard Magnusson,” said Bergson. “When he became president, one of the first things he did was check salaries of temple personnel. As a big business tycoon, he knew you get what you pay for. And when he found the rabbi’s salary was low, he forced through a raise.”
    There was a moment of awkward silence, finally broken by Dr. Ross asking, “So if we’re paying below standard, why would anyone want to come to us?”
    â€œBecause the guy might be having trouble with his congregation, I suppose,” Ben Halprin suggested.
    â€œOr he might have a kid going to one of the colleges around here. He could save himself a lot of money having the kid live at home.”
    â€œFat chance, a kid in college willing to live at home.”
    â€œHe might just want to live near the ocean.”
    It was shortly after Miriam had finished with the dishes that the doorbell rang and she opened the door to Police Chief Lanigan, whose friendship with the rabbi and Miriam went back to the year of their arrival in Barnard’s Crossing. He was a stocky man with a square face surmounted by a brush of white hair cut so short that the pink of the scalp showed through. “I just happened to be passing,” he said, his usual formula when he appeared unexpectedly.
    â€œI hear