My Story 50

We returned happy from our trip down South. The next day, I was contacted by one of the members of our synagogue's three man executive board. He came over and announced "I've got great news! The Beth Shalom Synagogue from Long Beach is prepared to merge with us!" It was a scenario that had been discussed for years. The entire South Shore of Long Island; indeed, many parts in the New York Metropolitan area, had declined Jewishly. There were many socio-economic reasons for this, but the basic reality was that synagogues that had ten years earlier boasted of five hundred families, now were lucky to have one hundred. Conservative and Reform synagogues, could no longer afford membership in their respective organizational affiliations, and were going independent. This also meant the hiring of rabbis outside their denominational framework, often charlatans. Why should a Reform congregation give a Reform rabbi a $250,000 salary, when they could get someone for $50,000, with a smattering of training, who either purchased an ordination, or got one as a favor? This had actually worked to my benefit when I was hired at Island Park, as I was a "refugee", and willing to accept a subsistence wage, grateful to have a roof over my family's head. However, in the case of a merger, the standard procedure is to initially keep both synagogues' rabbis, and, after a period of transition, fire them both and hire one new rabbi. The man who came to speak with me assured me that this was not the case here. Our membership would double. My salary would go up. Now that there was another rabbi, I could have off every other week. Anyway, I need not worry, as the other rabbi was resigning shortly, and I would be the sole rabbi. In this case, the other rabbi was actually a cantor, whose primary income was from his own recording company. His knowledge of Judaism was meager.In fact, even Fr. Tutone, upon hearing this man speak, was astonished by his lack of learning. The "rabbi" admitted having purchased his rabbinic ordination. He would visit his mother in another city one hundred miles distant most Friday nights, and return Saturday morning to conduct services. He was not personally observant. The thought of sharing a pulpit with this man was frightening to me. Until now, I had carefully weighed and examined each issue, so as to accommodate a non-observant constituency, and yet remain within the bounds of halacha. Now I would need to deal with one who cared little for those concerns. But the man who came to speak with me had said that the other rabbi was resigning. On the other hand, I was also told that I could now have every other week off, because he was there. I went to speak with another member of the executive board, who "explained" that the one who came to speak to me was not qualified to understand what was discussed. I had nothing to fear. Thus began a year of lies and deception. Every week, I was given a different explanation of what was happening. Guarantees in my contract must be forfeited, so as not to violate "written agreements" with Beth Shalom. I went to speak with the officers of Beth Shalom, who assured me that there were no such agreements, written or otherwise. The U.S. Supreme Court had recently issued a ruling that clergy contracts were not enforceable, due to separation of Church and State considerations. In short, my lifetime contract wasn't worth the paper it was written on. Moreover, clergy are not eligible for unemployment insurance payments! One week I was told that both I and the other rabbi would be fired in a year, unless there was a unanimous vote of both boards to the contrary. Another week, the figure was two years. I went before the full synagogue board, and informed them of what was happening. The executive board told them that I "didn't understand". There were several members who assured me that they "had my back", but later acknowledged that they could do nothing. I was in an emotional tailspin. I first went down twenty pounds, and then went up fifty pounds. I could hardly sleep. Many people told me that I looked like I was dying. Actually, inside, I was. I knew that if this were to continue, I would not survive. I sent out resumes to places as far-flung as Hong Kong. It was no use. I was simply too old, and lacking in connections. A hopelessness descended upon me such as I had never known. After a year of this, I reviled the President of the congregation about the unethical, inhuman, and certainly un-Jewish treatment I was being subjected to. He said "suck it up". For the first and only time in my life, I "dropped an F-Bomb". I do not regret that one bit. I resigned. The congregation was (mis)- informed that I had demanded a huge raise in salary. This was not true at all. We were given a month to vacate our home. After ten years of sharing the joys and grief of these people, I was being cheated over the additional revenue the merger would bring. Most had no idea of what had happened. Still, I believe they should have made the effort to find out. I regretted not heeding the advice of colleagues who had years ago warned me "you're congregants are not your friends". I was later informed that shortly after this, at a Sunday breakfast at the synagogue, one of the members of the executive board said "Ah, Siegel; he had no courage to deal with this." One of my main supporters answered him "No. He was the only one in this with courage". I make it a habit to keep up with old friends. But the blatant betrayal and deception of that last year in Island Park, left Sima and me incapable of maintaining a relationship with them. Some people from the synagogue later took Sima and me out to lunch. They informed us that the other "rabbi" had quit, and not a single person from Beth Shalom attended services anymore.It had all been for naught. I knew it was the end of my career. I feared the prospect of being homeless. I was greatly encouraged when I made comments online, and had total strangers, in other parts of the country, invite us to move in with them (!!!). We knew that G-d had plans for everyone. But we could not see our next steps. The month of grace in our house was quickly passing. The mental picture of living on the street kept looming larger and larger. Worst of all, I believed that G-d had given me knowledge and talents that could, and should, be used in His service. I knew that few American rabbis had as much to give as I did. Would it all go to waste? Well, largely yes. But Rabbi Nachman teaches that we must be thankful for even a little, as Jacob had said, went confronting Esau, and dividing his family into two camps "If Esau comes, and attacks both mothers and children, there will still be a remaining camp". I did not know what that remaining camp would look like. Our next steps will be described in my coming installment.