Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home
“Mr. Wasserman is an old man; he’s practical. I know how you feel, but sometimes you have to compromise. You yourself have said that parnossah is necessary for a good life, that you can’t have a good life unless you’re making a living.” She had fussed over him like a mother hen, bringing him his slippers and pouring him a cup of hot tea liberally laced with whisky and lemon. “Drink it; it will ward off a cold.”
“Making a living is a necessity,” he said through her ministrations. “Making a good l...iving is a luxury. I don’t need luxury for a good life. I don’t reject it, of course; I am not ascetic. But I don’t need it.”
“But wherever you go, except in small towns like Barnard’s Crossing, there will be more than one temple. And that will mean competition.”
He shook his head wearily. “You don’t understand, Miriam. In the nature of things the rabbi is paid by a temple or synagogue because here in America it’s the most practical way of compensating him for his work.MoreLess
“Making a living is a necessity,” he said through her ministrations. “Making a good l...iving is a luxury. I don’t need luxury for a good life. I don’t reject it, of course; I am not ascetic. But I don’t need it.”
“But wherever you go, except in small towns like Barnard’s Crossing, there will be more than one temple. And that will mean competition.”
He shook his head wearily. “You don’t understand, Miriam. In the nature of things the rabbi is paid by a temple or synagogue because here in America it’s the most practical way of compensating him for his work.MoreLess
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