Read Online Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry by Harry Kemelman - Free Book Online
Authors: Harry Kemelman
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Checkerboard for a bite after the movie, I got to say, Fine swell idea, because if I mention someplace where you can get a hamburg and coffee for under a buck, that means I’m cheap.”
“So? That’s gracious living. You’re in Barnard’s Crossing now. When in Rome you got to do like the Romans. We got a responsibility to the kids, and that’s why you joined the temple. But now that you’re a member in good standing, you got rights like anybody else. So stop stalling and call the rabbi.”
“But, Liz, he’s just got back from the temple. He’s probably at dinner and must be starved. Besides, there’s more involved than you realize. The bylaws say you got to be a bona fide member to be buried in the cemetery. Now you want me to ask the rabbi to forget the bylaws and make an exception for a friend of mine whose wife isn’t even Jewish. That’s what I mean I’m a new member. To ask a favor like this, you got to be one of the big shots. If it were a relative of mine, that’s one thing. But this guy Hirsh, I hardly knew him. Maybe all the time we’ve been living here I’ve said Hello to him three times. I say we shouldn’t get involved.”
“But we are involved. Patricia Hirsh was right here in this house taking care of your kids while her husband was dying in his garage not a hundred feet away. Besides, didn’t we tell her to have him buried by Jewish law?”
“You did; I didn’t. As a matter of fact, seems to me she was already planning to anyway before we even got there. You just said, the way I remember, you thought it was a wonderful idea and we could talk to the rabbi. And she said that this Dr. Sykes, her husband’s boss, was going to make all the arrangements, he planned to call the rabbi himself. If he’s going to, why do we have to?”
“You keep forgetting I am practically her best friend around here and she was baby-sitting for us. It was all I could do to get you to go over to see her when we heard.”
He had indeed been reluctant. He dreaded the weeping, the depressing conversation he associated with a house of mourning. But it turned out to be not so bad. Except for the Levensons across the street, the others present had all been Gentiles. Dr. Sykes, Hirsh’s section head, seemed to be in charge. At least, he had come to the door and introduced them around. There was someone in a gray suit and Roman collar, the Reverend Peter Dodge, who seemed to know the family because he and Hirsh were both active in the Civil Rights movement. The MacCarthys who lived down the street were just going when they came in. Liz ran over and threw her arms around Mrs. Hirsh, and both of them had been teary for a minute, but then Mrs. Hirsh got control of herself. When the question of a Jewish ceremony came up, Dodge had even got her to smile when after saying he knew Rabbi Small well, they were both in the Ministers’ Association, he added: “But I don’t think it would be proper for me to ask him to officiate at the burial, Pat, not where we’re business competitors, so to speak.” And that’s when Dr. Sykes said he was going to arrange everything.
Once outside, Jordon told his wife he had to hand it to her. “I was afraid we’d be stuck there all morning.”
“When I saw what the situation was, I wasn’t going to hang around,” she answered primly. “This Dodge fellow, Pat knew him from South Bend where she came from. You notice he called her by her first name? He’s not married. You notice how he was looking at her?”
“How was he looking at her?”
“You know, kind of hungry.”
“Oh, Jesus. You dames, all you got on your minds. The guy isn’t even buried yet, and you’re already trying to marry her off.”
As he dialed he rehearsed in his mind what he would say to the rabbi. “Rabbi Small?… Oh, Mrs. Small? Am I disturbing your dinner?”
“Is that the rabbi’s wife?” Liz took the instrument from him. “Mrs. Small? This is Liz Marcus. I sat right behind you at the
“So? That’s gracious living. You’re in Barnard’s Crossing now. When in Rome you got to do like the Romans. We got a responsibility to the kids, and that’s why you joined the temple. But now that you’re a member in good standing, you got rights like anybody else. So stop stalling and call the rabbi.”
“But, Liz, he’s just got back from the temple. He’s probably at dinner and must be starved. Besides, there’s more involved than you realize. The bylaws say you got to be a bona fide member to be buried in the cemetery. Now you want me to ask the rabbi to forget the bylaws and make an exception for a friend of mine whose wife isn’t even Jewish. That’s what I mean I’m a new member. To ask a favor like this, you got to be one of the big shots. If it were a relative of mine, that’s one thing. But this guy Hirsh, I hardly knew him. Maybe all the time we’ve been living here I’ve said Hello to him three times. I say we shouldn’t get involved.”
“But we are involved. Patricia Hirsh was right here in this house taking care of your kids while her husband was dying in his garage not a hundred feet away. Besides, didn’t we tell her to have him buried by Jewish law?”
“You did; I didn’t. As a matter of fact, seems to me she was already planning to anyway before we even got there. You just said, the way I remember, you thought it was a wonderful idea and we could talk to the rabbi. And she said that this Dr. Sykes, her husband’s boss, was going to make all the arrangements, he planned to call the rabbi himself. If he’s going to, why do we have to?”
“You keep forgetting I am practically her best friend around here and she was baby-sitting for us. It was all I could do to get you to go over to see her when we heard.”
He had indeed been reluctant. He dreaded the weeping, the depressing conversation he associated with a house of mourning. But it turned out to be not so bad. Except for the Levensons across the street, the others present had all been Gentiles. Dr. Sykes, Hirsh’s section head, seemed to be in charge. At least, he had come to the door and introduced them around. There was someone in a gray suit and Roman collar, the Reverend Peter Dodge, who seemed to know the family because he and Hirsh were both active in the Civil Rights movement. The MacCarthys who lived down the street were just going when they came in. Liz ran over and threw her arms around Mrs. Hirsh, and both of them had been teary for a minute, but then Mrs. Hirsh got control of herself. When the question of a Jewish ceremony came up, Dodge had even got her to smile when after saying he knew Rabbi Small well, they were both in the Ministers’ Association, he added: “But I don’t think it would be proper for me to ask him to officiate at the burial, Pat, not where we’re business competitors, so to speak.” And that’s when Dr. Sykes said he was going to arrange everything.
Once outside, Jordon told his wife he had to hand it to her. “I was afraid we’d be stuck there all morning.”
“When I saw what the situation was, I wasn’t going to hang around,” she answered primly. “This Dodge fellow, Pat knew him from South Bend where she came from. You notice he called her by her first name? He’s not married. You notice how he was looking at her?”
“How was he looking at her?”
“You know, kind of hungry.”
“Oh, Jesus. You dames, all you got on your minds. The guy isn’t even buried yet, and you’re already trying to marry her off.”
As he dialed he rehearsed in his mind what he would say to the rabbi. “Rabbi Small?… Oh, Mrs. Small? Am I disturbing your dinner?”
“Is that the rabbi’s wife?” Liz took the instrument from him. “Mrs. Small? This is Liz Marcus. I sat right behind you at the
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