Rabbi Gabrielle Commits a Felony

by Roger Herst

"Can you share your thoughts with us," Shenna queried, feeling uncomfortable with innuendo.

  "I prefer to think them through before I make an utter fool of myself," Gabby replied.

  When it was time for Gabby to return to the synagogue, Kyle tailed her to the door. "Rabbi, don't you think it was weird for the same Torah to be stolen on two different occasions?"

  "I think about that all the time. Maybe the two thefts are related."

  "How could that be?" he responded as they stepped into the research center corridor.

  "That's what I want to know."

  CHAPTER SIX

  The US Weather Service had been predicting snow for the mid-Atlantic states, but their predictions were twenty-four hours late. The storm that was supposed to strike Washington on Thursday lingered in the Alleghenies, then blew into town about three o'clock on Friday afternoon, the very worst time for commuters headed home to the suburbs. The Erev Shabbat service at Ohav Shalom which began punctually at 5:30 p.m. occurred when commuters were battling snow on the major thoroughfares and stalled traffic on the side streets. When Gabby and Cantor Blass entered the small sanctuary used for Erev Shabbat worship, she was not surprised to find less than a dozen and a half brave congregants in the pews. This condition, she immediately turned to her advantage, by requesting everyone to move down to the first two rows where close proximity promoted a feeling of Sabbath warm and camaraderie.

  Cantor Reuben Blass abandoned the pulpit microphone to lead chanting of the traditional Sabbath liturgy only a few feet from the pious. Gabby was moved by a sense of communal piety, something she intended to mention later in her Sabbath message. When they came to the seventh blessing, barucha, for peace in the Amidah sequence, she noticed that two additional men had entered the sanctuary from the rear and positioned themselves in the second to last row of empty seats.

  It was only when the worshipers in front of her sat down that she recognized Senator Arthur Zuckerman and his friend, Representative Damyon Tyler. Without drawing attention to their status, she asked them to come forward and join the others in the front rows. Both were initially reticent, but upon a second request, eased from the rear pew. Damyon Tyler took Zuckerman's arm to steady him as they hobbled forward. The Senator looked to have recovered, but walked on unsteady feet. It was the first time in Gabby's memory he had come to services other than the High Holidays.

  In Gabby's address, she pointed out how human emotions are contagious, passing from one individual to another. Human moods ebb and flow like reeds in the wind, working for both good and evil. She liked to point out how good Germans became good Nazis when they saw their countrymen committing atrocities that were hitherto unthinkable. Individuals seldom condone values of the mob, yet the mob is composed of individuals. By the same token, it was well documented how charities prosper when like-minded people occupy the same room. "We feel what others feel, love what they love, and hate what they hate," she said in closing. To make her point, she asked all to join hands while they recited the Aleyanu prayers.

  "May I speak with you privately for a few moments," Senator Zuckerman whispered in a weak voice after greeting Gabby in the foyer before the traditional blessing, bread and wine. "You probably remember my friend, Damyon."

  "Of course, We met in the hospital," she replied, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to see you both here."

  After the Oneg Shabbat, Gabby led Zuckerman and Damyon Tyler to the robing room where she removed her clerical gown and slipped into a suit jacket. They sat at a circular conference table around which Ohav Shalom's clergy often shared last minute changes in the liturgy.

  "Of course, Damyon is privy to everything I say," Zuckerman opened. "But I ask you to keep what I say absolutely confidential. I have great respect for your professional integrity, Rabbi, and in the realm of public life here in Washington that's a scarce commodity."

  "I must say that I was surprised to see you weather the blizzard to attend our service, Senator," she said.

  "You might see more of me in the future. While recovering from my heart attack, I concluded that it is about time to establish a relationship with God. The moment I'm out of office, and that won't be long now, my constituents will forget me. Those of us in high office know only too well that people idolize our positions far more than they do those of us who hold them. When another assumes my seat, their loyalties will suborn to another. No one is less admired than a politician out of office. Be that as it may, it's time for me to get to know my Maker and vice-versa." The Senator laughed at himself, his gaunt face becoming flushed with humor. "After all, Rabbi, I'm going to be with the Almighty far longer than with the people of Ohio."

  Gabby eased into her chair, grappling with the Senator's emotional journey. He was obviously a man who enjoyed being before the public, but at the same time, seemed aware how his career was in its twilight years.

  Zuckerman leaned across the small table in Gabby's direction as though prepared to whisper a great secret. "I need a small favor, Rabbi," he said, wiping his chin with thick fingers, a gold wedding band tying him to his deceased wife, Mildred, on the fourth. As far as Gabby could remember, he had been widowed for at least a decade.

  "I know from my sources that you're a good friend of Gideon Ganeden. That is true, isn't it?"

  Mention of Gideon's name startled her, though she rallied without revealing it. "Yes, of course. I've known him and his family for many years."

  "I would like you to convey a special message to him from me."

  That perplexed her. Why, with all the resources of the august US Senate, couldn't Zuckerman communicate directly with Gideon?

  "Will you?"

  "If you wish, but I don't understand why it's necessary."

  "And you won't," Zuckerman was quick, cutting off further inquiry. "Suffice it to say that even a senator should not have direct contact with people about certain political issues. I don't have to remind you how touchy politics can be. Your friend, Dr. Ganeden, is involved in a project in Cincinnati, which you probably know is my hometown. My official residence is Cleveland, but I was born in Cincinnati and took my undergraduate degree at the University of Cincinnati. I want you to tell Gideon how unhappy I am with his project and that I demand he cancel it immediately."

  "Wow, that's stern language, Senator. Can I ask what this is all about?"

  "You may ask, but believe me you don't want to know any details. I cannot think of a single reason why it would be of any advantage for you to know. And if anyone asks you about this conversation between us, please say nothing. I expect this to be covered by the clergy confidentiality rule."

  "Why not use a lawyer to speak with Gideon? Lawyers also enjoy this confidentiality," she sounded her confusion.

  "Because while lawyers make a big thing about confidentiality with their clients, they blab about everything to their attorney friends. Most lawyers probably remain silent, but it only takes one to leave the fence gate open, if you know what I'm talking about."

  "How soon should I speak with Gideon?"

  "As soon as possible," he responded. "And we needn't talk about this again between ourselves. One chat should be sufficient. Damyon and I will try to come back to the synagogue next week. And by the way, I enjoyed your remarks about the contagion of emotions. They say of politicians that they first herd their flocks and then dominate them. I think there's an element of truth in that observation."

  Saturday night Gabby spent making a lesson plan for the Sunday afternoon adult class on Orthodox practices. Cici Landau had made the curriculum at the beginning of the winter semester and left a copy when her physician recommended bed-rest for the duration of her pregnancy. It proved to be a great help when Carey Sylerman substituted the week before.

  Gabby's phone rang a few minutes past nine. She speculated that it was Kye with a change in travel plans. Instead, she immediately recognized the voice of Norma Sylerman. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Rabbi Lewyn, but I haven't heard from Carey and was wondering if she was coming home t
o teach tomorrow. Should I expect her?"

  Gabby bit her lip, holding back what she knew would be disappointing news. "You caught me in the act of preparing to teach the class myself. I would be very surprised if Carey showed up. You won't like what I'm about to say, but we must live with facts however much we detest them. Rabbi Olam v'Ed called me on Thursday to say he had learned about Carey's trip to Washington. He ordered me to discourage her from returning. He hinted that if she was determined to come anyway, it would hurt her chances of becoming a member of Sh'erit ha-Pletah and injure her relationship with Baruch Teitelbaum."

  "Good!" Norma censored nothing. "Anything to get her away from those disgusting people."

  "No, Norma. That's not good. If Carey wishes to join Sh'erit ha-Pletah, it would be wrong for Ohav Shalom to stand in her way. She has an electronic airline ticket waiting for her at LaGuardia if she wants to use it. Otherwise, I'm going to teach her class."

  "Could you telephone her?" Norma didn't seem to acknowledge Gabby's views.

  "I could, but that's not wise. Carey must work this out for herself. Since she hasn't called me, I presume that she's made her decision. Let's be grateful that we now have some communication."

  "That's easy for you to say, Rabbi. She isn't your daughter."

  Norma Sylerman's responses reminded Gabby of her own mother, who made a habit of making others feel uncomfortable, a fact she didn't wish to reveal. Instead, she said, "Just keep talking to Carey. Let her know how much you love her and respect her ability to make informed decisions for herself."

  "I'm not sure I do. She hasn't exhibited much talent in that department so far," Norma said with a hostile note.

  No sooner had Gabby hung up with Norma than Kye phoned from Monterey. The shuttle flight from Monterey to San Francisco for the cross-country United red-eye had been cancelled, so he was driving to the San Francisco International. That would put him on a later plane, expected to arrive at Dulles around noon on Sunday.

  "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was looking forward to private time with you, Gabrielle."

  "What did Gilda Radner say? 'If it isn't one thing, it's another.' It can't be helped. This bi-coastal commuting is already beginning to take its toll on us. You remember, Kye, I've got to teach the class on Orthodox practices. I've just finished my lesson plan."

  "Damn, I forgot. Well, then I'll drive directly from Dulles to Ohav Shalom and meet you there."

  She thought about the impracticality of having two cars at the synagogue, but allowed another feeling to take precedence. "I'd love that, Kye. There's a lot of snow on the ground here, but the roads are now clear."

  "I heard about the storm on television. It's bright and sunny in California, Love."

  "You know how to hurt a girl," she said with a raffish uptake in her voice.

  Despite the unpleasant weather conditions only three of twenty-seven students enrolled in the class on Orthodox Practices failed to attend. The class convened in the synagogue library where two oversized rectangular conference tables had been placed together. Gabby positioned herself midway along the narrow side in order to make eye contact with her pupils and, after passing out supplemental readings, introduced the subject from Cici Landau's curriculum, "The Role of Time and the Calendar on Jewish practice."

  "You all know about the 613 positive commandments in Orthodoxy," Gabby said by way of introduction, "but what might come as a surprise is that, with few exceptions, each commandment is qualified by a specific time in which it must be performed. You shouldn't circumcise a baby boy on the ninth day after birth, celebrate Yom Kippur in the Hebrew month of Heshvon, say Shabbat prayers on Monday, get married on Saturday, fast on the feasting days, or eat matzos on days other than Passover. And to do so would not only be disrespectful, but negate any possible reward, either psychic or divine, for the proper performance of the mistimed mitzvah."

  Gabby then referred to the reading she had just passed out, delineating a list of practices and citing the biblical or Talmudic passages where exact timing was proscribed. Students erupted with observations and questions. Gabby felt most comfortable when her students were personally engaged and jumped into the subject with enthusiasm. The timing of ritual performance was not a difficult concept to grasp, but gave rise to many philosophical questions. She was explaining how in Orthodox practice, such timing was different for males and females when she perceived the eyes of her students no longer focused forward.

  She turned to see Carey Sylerman standing in the doorway, wrapped in a loose black raincoat, her hair covered by a thick woolen beret. What struck Gabby were the tears that streamed from under Carey's round glasses, fogged with condensation from the difference in temperature between the outside and warm library. It looked as if Carey was wrestling to hold back a flood of additional tears.

  "The plane was held up at LaGuardia," Carey said. "I'm sorry I'm late."

  Gabby stood and stretched out her hands, welcoming her to the class. "Of course, nothing is lost. We were just discussing the element of time in Jewish practice. We have a list of mitzvoth and the passages where it states how they must be observed in a time sequence. Come, Carey, sit down here. This is your class…."

  To the students, Gabby said, "You all know Carey Sylerman from last week. She's one of our own, you know. The pride of our Bat Mitzvah program."

  "I need to speak with you, Rabbi Lewyn," Carey pleaded as she took the seat Gabby had vacated.

  "Yes, we'll talk when your class is over," Gabby said as she stepped away from the conference table. Her first impulse was to remain in the library to see if Carey could control her emotions and conduct the lesson. A second impulse dictated to demonstrate confidence in Carey by leaving her to her own resources. That was just as well because the moment she entered the corridor, Kye appeared, coming from the stairwell.

  "I was headed to your class," he said, just before drawing Gabby into a hug. "What happened?"

  "Carey Sylerman just showed up. She's in there right now."

  "Then we can go somewhere together?"

  "No, Kye, Carey asked to speak with me after the class. She must have come here by taxi, so I want to drive her to parents' home, or back to the airport – whichever she wishes."

  He didn't like what he heard and was about to say something sarcastic, but muzzled himself. "Where can we talk, Gabrielle? You know that big surprise I told you about?"

  She glanced down at her watch to judge how long they had before Carey's class was scheduled to end, then said to Kye, "My office. As long as I'm free by four o'clock."

  From the instant hot water tap in the synagogue kitchen, Gabby produced two cups of tea and led her husband to her office. Feeling excited by Carey's unexpected arrival, she spilled tea on the lacquered coffee table. "Clumsy me," she uttered, immediately rising to fetch a rag. When this housekeeping matter was completed, she stopped to study Kye's face. "You look ready to explode. What's on your mind, husband dear?"

  "Us," he blurted. "I know we've already discussed this at some length, but there's some urgency in it now. You know my new partners want us to live in the Carmel area and have made offers. Well, they just sweetened the deal a lot. You know the house we stayed at?"

  "Of course, where our baby was conceived."

  He stiffened on the sofa. "Really, Gabrielle? Are you sure?"

  "Oh no, I didn't mean it literally. I still have three days away from normal ovulation. It's too early to be sure. But I can tell you, Kye, I haven't had any of the normal swelling in my breasts. No premenstrual pains and no headaches. Wednesday is the critical day, but so far so good."

  "The house we stayed in, Gabrielle, is owned by John Stilweather, brother in law of my partner, Gillman Sing. If you'll agree to come to Carmel, the partnership has agreed to rent the home for us for a year. Mr. Stilweather's wife has a terrible case of arthritis which is acerbated by coastal dampness, so the family's moving to the Phoenix area. After one year, my partners have agreed to purchase the house in our name, and we'll pay
the business off like a fixed residential mortgage at the market interest rate. I never dreamed of living in such a beautiful house. It's got to be one of the most beautiful in the world."

  Gabby could barely believe what she was hearing. Like Kye, it was inconceivable to think of such a home. A trophy house like that appeared in architectural magazines for the mega-rich. For someone like herself, it seemed inaccessible. "I don't know what to say, Kye," she admitted. "Except that they must want you in California very badly. That's some bait. I'm very proud of you."

  "If nothing else, it makes our decision more rather than less difficult."

  She needed to ponder that for some time before agreeing with him. "After the ice and cold here, California sounds wonderful. No wonder so many people have migrated there."

  At four o'clock, Kye left the synagogue to go home, shower, and wait for Gabby. They talked about dinner in a Thai restaurant and perhaps a movie, if they could find something interesting to see. Gabby went to the library, delighted to learn that the students were still at the conference table, engaged in animated conversation with Carey, who was clearly enjoying the discussions. Gabby searched for tears and found none. For a moment, she was reminded that when she taught classes, her personal problems receded into the background. Teaching proved to be marvelous therapy for depression.

  After class, Carey was pumped up. Gabby didn't have to ask if the class went well. "You wanted to talk, Carey. Can I drive you back to the airport or your parents?"

  The suggestion of going back to the airport struck her as odd. "To my home, if you've got the time. Otherwise, I'll call my father and I'm sure he'll come to fetch me."

  While walking to the synagogue parking lot, they talked about material covered in the class, but once inside Gabby's Lexus, Gabby changed the subject. "You surprised me, Carey. I received a phone call from Rabbi Olam v'Ed and he made it clear he would forbid you from teaching here."

  The animation in Carey's voice died. Gabby could hear heavy breathing between her words. "Baruch asked me to talk with him at Beth Sh'erit ha-Pletah. He's been nominated to become a member of Z'chut-Avot and to study with the masters in the Chamber of Scholars. Rabbi Olam v'Ed told him that I had breached the community's rules and that I had put shame upon him. Gimme a break! The result is that I'm now under probation."