Christmas for Joshua - A Novel (20 page)

“You better watch out,” Aaron said, slapping my shoulder, “way things are going, we’ll appoint you president for life.”

Another car came up the hill. The dust from our arrival still lingered in its headlights. It was Mat Warnick’s service van, which must have been a real challenge to drive up here. When the doors opened, the interior lights showed Rabbi Rachel in the passenger seat. They spoke for a few minutes while we waited, then joined us. We said hello, and I was relieved to be in a group, giving me time to figure out what to say to the rabbi. It had been my fault that Rebecca was fuming to the point of insulting her. Should I have discussed my Christmas tree idea before bringing it into the house? Most likely Rebecca’s crying would have dissuaded me. But facing Rabbi Rachel, I wanted to apologize to her on behalf of both Rebecca and myself, but the truth was that I hadn’t spoken with my angry wife since the rabbi had stormed out, and not because I didn’t try. Somehow, the presence of that tree in our living room had pushed Rebecca over the edge of rational discussion and made her treat me with open hostility, which had never happened before in all our years together. It was as if she stopped loving me, though I knew it couldn’t be the case. Had she been so infuriated because of the combination of a Christmas tree and my insistence on being called Christian? Or the risk of alienation from Debra unless I converted in accordance with the Orthodox rabbis’ requirements? Whatever it was, Rebecca had hurt Rabbi Rachel’s feelings, and I had caused it.

But the rabbi didn’t wait for me to break the ice. She pulled me down to peck my cheek. “I was wrong to leave your home in anger. Please forgive me. Rebecca already has.”

“You spoke with her?”

“Of course. She was right. My understanding of parents’ anxieties about their children is limited to theory. It wasn’t my place to patronize her. Debra is the most important person in the world for your wife.”

“For me too, which is why I want to protect Debra from the Orthodox fundamentalist misinterpretation of Judaism and show her
and
Mordechai that—”

“Look at those suckers!” Mat Warnick pointed to Judy’s front door handles. “They look alive!”

The intertwined rattlesnakes did appear alive, their sparkling scales giving an illusion of movement, which Judy had probably intended. Only a closer look in the dim light revealed the mounting hardware and the thin coat of hardened silicon over the open jaws and sharp fangs.

“
Ring the bell,” Aaron urged Mat, who was the newest board member and had never been to Judy’s place.

Before I managed to yell a warning, Mat complied, only to find his finger pressing on the arched spine of a black scorpion. The dangling stinger sprung up when the body was pressed in, stinging his finger. Mat cursed and fell backward, where Aaron was ready to catch him.

We all had a big laugh, and Judy opened the door. “Who’s the sucker now?”

“
You’re a sick human being!” Mat walked in with his hand in the air, examining it against the foyer light. “It stung me!”

“
It’s dead,” Aaron said, still laughing.

“
So what?” Mat was panicking. “The venom stays active! They can sting after they’re dead!”

“
It’s fake,” Judy said. “I made it out of rubber, paperclips, and foil.” She took his stung hand and led him back to the door. “Look at it. The stinger is dull, won’t penetrate the skin. It’s just for fun.”

“
Some fun,” Mat said. “I see them every day on the AC machines, inside electrical boxes, in the attics. Scorpions, black widows, rattlesnakes. I hate them!”

Aaron put his arm around Mat’s shoulder. “Don’t pout. It’s a big night, ten million greenbacks, all because of you!”

“
It’s my brother’s money, not mine.” Mat rubbed his hand, still unsure about the scorpion. “And anyway, as I wrote in my e-mail, Jonathan is giving the money because of Dr. Dinwall.”

We entered Judy’s living room, and Rabbi Rachel said, “A lot of patients are grateful to their doctors, but they don’t give away millions of dollars to an institution unless they believe in its strength and future.”

Mat checked the armchair before sitting in it. “He’s not giving the money out of gratitude to his doctor.”

Judy, who was carrying a refreshments tray, stopped midway from the open kitchen. “You’re not making sense. He’s giving it because of Dr. Dinwall, but not out of gratitude?”

“
Correct,” Mat said.

Rabbi Rachel carried a straight, carved-wood chair from a dining table and positioned it across from the sofa. “Can you explain?”

“
Jonathan told me that Dr. Dinwall inspired him, not only because of how he cares for his patients, but also because he has served the synagogue for so long as a volunteer president, managed the affairs of the congregation, and worked so hard without asking for anything in return.” Mat glanced at the rabbi. “He’s the hardest-working employee, but we don’t pay him a salary.”

I sighed inwardly. She was being talked down to again because of me.

“
My brother,” Mat continued, “started VetBestMate.com in the hospital, working on his laptop in bed, because he wanted to help people. He learned it from Dr. Dinwall. And the business success was only a byproduct of Jonathan’s dedication to helping single veterans find love. It’s still the company’s slogan:
Be Good For Goodness Sake!”

“
Then how come I didn’t get any shares?” I spoke casually, as if I didn’t really believe Mat. “Or would this defeat the whole idea?”

“
It’s never too late,” Aaron said.

We laughed and sat down to start our business. Judy phoned Larry Emanuel, who was at the hospital, and we heard his voice on the speaker. “I’m at work,” Larry said, “unlike some other doctors.”

“
That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” I said.

“
Yeah, right!” He blew air into the phone, which on our end sounded like spitting.

“
Let’s start.” Judy picked up her drawing pad, which she also used to take notes. “This is the annual meeting of the board of trustees of the King Solomon Synagogue. We have all the trustees present in person or by phone, so we have a quorum for valid voting. I’m chairing the meeting as secretary. The agenda includes two items: Financial reports and the Warnick offer. But first, the rabbi will open with a word from the Torah.”

“
Thank you.” Rabbi Rachel was sitting on the straight chair, which placed her at an elevated position to the rest of us. She opened a book. “Let me quote from Deuteronomy: ‘
And God elevated you today to be His chosen nation, as He had promised, and entrust his laws to you, to make you supreme among all the gentiles, for His glory.
”

She looked up and met my eyes. “But who does God speak to? Who are the ‘Chosen People,’ the beneficiaries of His divine promise of supremacy above all others?” She flipped through the pages to another spot. “The earliest mention of this promise appears in Genesis, chapter seventeen, where God promises Abraham the land of Canaan: ‘
And you shall honor my Covenant, and your seed after you for all future generations.
’ The question is: Did God limit the Covenant to the biological descendants of Abraham?”

No one tried to answer.

“
The solution,” she continued, “appears in the next sentence, when God explains that the Covenant shall be open not only to Abraham’s seed, but also for newcomers to the faith: ‘
The sons of gentiles who are not from your seed.
’ In other words, we, the Jewish people, are not a defined ethnic group or a race, but an open faith to all those who join in the Covenant. By adopting the faith in Adonai our God, Adonai the one and only, they too become chosen. Unfortunately, some so-called rabbis have erected artificial, technical barriers to prevent righteous gentiles from joining the Jewish faith. I believe those rabbis are violating the divine Covenant, which they pretend to protect.”

“
Well put,” Aaron said and winked at me.

“
Let us pray,” the rabbi concluded, “that the God of Abraham, the Almighty, who can see into human hearts and tell good from evil, that He shall bless us and the rest of the people of Israel, and we say, Amen.”

“
Amen,” Judy Levy said, and raised a glass of lemonade. “To the open Covenant!”

Everyone sipped lemonade, and I smiled at Rabbi Rachel, wishing things were that simple.

Larry Emanuel, who served as treasurer, had e-mailed Judy a summary of the financial report. She handed it out. It showed the synagogue operating on the brink of insolvency. But it seemed clear to everyone that the second item on the agenda made any further discussion of the financial report superfluous. Cantor Bentov made a motion to approve the report, I seconded the motion, and we voted unanimously to approve it.

“About the offer from Jonathan Warnick.” I looked around. “The only thing we are asked to do in exchange for the money is to adopt a new name, which shall be ‘Golda and Leo Warnick Synagogue.’ Are there any questions before we vote?”

Rabbi Rachel looked at Aaron, and he said, “No doubt that this is a wonderful opportunity. The main concern is that the congregation has been known by its current name for so long. People have donated money over the years to King Solomon, a name that connotes communal ownership. The new name might imply a private ownership.”

The rabbi nodded and smiled at Aaron. He glanced at me and shrugged.

“
That’s a ridiculous concern,” Judy said. “No one would think that a synagogue is a private enterprise owned by Jonathan’s dead parents. Lots of public institutions carry names of private donors.”

“
They’re my parents too,” Mat said, “and I feel awkward about this, almost like being pretentious, even though it’s not my money. I won’t say anything to Jonathan because I don’t want to spoil the deal, but a person who wants to give to charity should do it because it’s the right thing to do, because God will reward his righteousness in the next world. Charity loses its virtue when it’s given in exchange for personal benefits in this world.”

From the way Rabbi Rachel watched Mat speak, I suspected he was repeating what she had told him in the van on the way up the mountain. Also, the words he used did not sound like Mat’s words.

“
That’s Jonathan’s prerogative,” Aaron said. “As Judy said, naming rights are often given to donors. But there could be resentment among our congregants if we completely dispose of King Solomon.” He glanced up at Rabbi Rachel, perched high on her chair.

“
A few grumblings,” Larry said, “are a small price to pay for this huge donation.”

“
Mat and Aaron” the rabbi said, “raised important issues. I am deeply concerned about the demand to change the name of our synagogue.”

“
Better to shut it down altogether?” Judy picked up a fistful of nuts. “I can make a beautiful plaque that will say:
On this spot until recently stood the King Solomon Synagogue
. I’ll use singed brass. It’s very commemorative.”

“
What are we talking about here?” Larry’s voice creaked from the speakerphone. “We have no choice. We need the money ASAP. Desperate situations require drastic solutions.”

“
We’re not desperate, and we’re not shutting down.” Rabbi Rachel held up the book. “As Mat has said, the Torah is clear that charity should be given without conditions or worldly rewards.”

“
Jonathan was very clear,” I said. “He wants the new name of the synagogue to replace King Solomon everywhere. He was specific—put the new name on the building, the Hebrew school, the website, and so on.”

“
That’s correct,” Mat said. “He wants our parents’ names to become known in association with a successful institution, and he’s willing to spend the money to make it successful.”

“
Make
it successful?” The rabbi’s voice was sharp, almost angry. “Why? Isn’t it successful already?”

No one responded.

“
Let there be no question,” Rabbi Rachel said, “That the King Solomon Synagogue is a beautiful community of faith and learning, which I’ve built from nothing over a lifetime of dedicated labor of love. Don’t you agree? Isn’t our congregation successful already—in every respect other than money?”

On the speakerphone, Larry chuckled. “It’s like the dying man in the desert telling his camel, ‘Don’t we have everything we need—other than water?’”

“
Jonathan wants to make it
more
successful,” Mat clarified.

Rabbi Rachel didn’t seem convinced. “In what way? We’re entitled to know what changes he has in mind, what other demands he might raise later on.”

“
The name change,” I said, “was the only condition.”

“
For now. But what’s coming next?” The rabbi looked from face to face. “A wealthy person giving such a sum isn’t going to sit back and let us do as we like, correct? Money talks—and talks and talks and talks!”

“
Money is good,” Judy said. “We’ll have funds to renovate the building, put in a proper sound system, add educational programs. Look at the Gathering Hall, for example. It’s musty!”

“
Hey!” I shook a finger at her. “We’re having a Sheva Brachot dinner there tomorrow!”

“
Who cares,” Larry said, “about future demands? We’ll have the money in the bank, and if Jonathan has ideas about improving the synagogue, we’ll hear him respectfully and decide then.”