My Story 18

First, I want to reiterate that my purpose in writing this series is not to point out unpleasant things, but to explain why I take such a strong stance against charlatans, and anyone who twists Judaism for personal or political gain. I abhor those who use legitimate Torah principles in such a way as to protect the guilty. As long as these things are not in the open, nothing will change. 
When I lost my job as rabbi of the Northern Westchester synagogue, I was at a loss as to what to do and where to go. Our son, Nachman, was just under a year old. I had no savings, and clergy are not covered under the unemployment laws that normally support those out of work. Not too far from where we were living, was the community of Monsey, New York, with its largely Orthodox population. We had often gone there for shopping. I consulted a rabbi there, who advised me to take a job as a fundraiser on a commission basis, and find an apartment in Monsey. We were soon to learn that Monsey was a very divided community. There was "up the hill" Monsey. It was Modern Orthodox, led by a very prominent figure in that movement. It was affluent. It was separate in almost every way from "down the hill", which was Hareidi (ultra Orthodox),mostly poor, with both Yeshivish and Hasidic constituents, who cooperated with each other...most of the time. The "up the hill" community assuaged their consciences by donating to a communal charity which was supposed to help poor "down the hillers". Neither side respected the other's rabbis or policies. Down the hill Monsey was divided also, not so much by ideology, but by economics. Those with rich relatives bought homes, with basement apartments, mostly illegal, rented out to families without the "right connections", who would struggle to pay the exorbitant rents, which paid the mortgages of their landlords. I inquired what, if anything, the rabbis (including a Yeshivish, world-renowned so-called Gadol) were doing about the inequity. The answer was nothing. After all, there was a more important issue. It had been discovered that the community's swimming pool, despite having a wall around it for modestly, could nevertheless be peered into if one stood on an adjacent hill. The rabbis were very busy organizing the construction of a larger wall. There ended their activism. We rented a basement apartment. It was July, so it would be several months before I would find out that only part of the apartment got heat. When I asked the landlord for an explanation, he said "you never asked". I was a dismal failure as a fundraiser. What I brought in just barely covered the rent. I decided that I must swallow my pride, and apply for public assistance. The landlord's wife told us "You can't do that!" "What?!? Why not?" "Because it is an illegal apartment. You will be guilty of informing". It was then that I realized that these Torah laws were being exploited to protect the oppressors. I went to the charitable organization that was funded by "up the hill". "Yes, we can give you work!" I was elated. "You will work on a loading dock, putting refrigerators onto trucks". Now, I never was an athlete, and I knew I was not strong enough for that kind of work. "Don't you have anything else?" "No. If you decline our offer, all we can do is give you two loaves of Challah bread and a bottle of grape juice every Friday". I was broken. I fell into depression. I had no way of feeding my family. Sima even offered to go back to her parent's home so that she and the baby would not be a burden upon me. That made me feel much, much worse. Then, one Thursday night, I received a phone call. A man with a very thick Hungarian Yiddish accent was on the line. "Rabbi Siegel, this is so and so from the Satmar Hasidim. We have heard of your situation. We have spies in every synagogue to find out who is unemployed, or underemployed. Tonight, at 4 am, you will receive a shipment of food, enough to last for two weeks. It will come every two weeks until you no longer need it. At that point, let us know. It comes at 4 am so that no one will see who gets it, but rest assured, many of your neighbors get the same service. Please do not say no". In the package were fresh fish, meat, bread, fruit, vegetables, even candy, in abundance. As I'm writing this, I'm tearing up with feelings of gratitude. This would not be the last time that Satmar would come to my aid, while the "larger" Jewish community would let me down. Shortly afterward, I received a visit from a kindly man named Mendel Gertner. He was a member of the "Malachim" (the Angels), a small sect that had broken away from Chabad in about 1920. He said "forgive me, but being a rabbi is not a profession. You need a profession". He got me into a course for "Sofrim" (scribes), which was to sustain me for the next twenty years, Besides the advantage of having a profession, that course was to have a profound effect on my thinking. More about Satmar, and the Sofrim course, in my next post.