Just a couple of weeks after returning to Miami, Rabbi Groh was already back in his routine. He didn’t want to admit it, but he missed the work. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed writing sermons, teaching classes, and visiting elderly congregants he had not seen in a while. He even missed the meetings with board members and his staff. It was his favorite time of year. The summer was coming to a close, which meant that soon enough the oppressive humidity of South Florida would give way to the winter months, with sunny days in the mid-seventies and a slight breeze. It also meant that the High Holy Days were approaching. Even after two decades on the pulpit, Rabbi Groh still got excited for his once a year opportunity to address the entire congregation. His sermons resonated deeply with his congregants, and many in the congregation eagerly awaited his spirited talks. After a couple of years of virtual services as a result of the pandemic, finally Rabbi Groh would have his congregation back together in the sanctuary. He hadn’t realized how much he valued it until it was gone.
It was just two weeks before Rosh Hashanah, and many members of the congregation were coming back from their summer homes in Colorado, New England, and the mountains of North Carolina. One such member, a hedge fund manager who spent his summers in the rustic luxury of the Berkshires, was back in town and eager to see his rabbi.
“Rabbi, your appointment is here,” the rabbi’s secretary announced at his door. “Shall I send him in?”
“Oh no, for Mr. Freiberg, I will come and get him myself.”
“Rabbi,” Jacob Freiberg said with a mixture of bluster and warmth in his tone. “How are you?”
“Great, Jacob, welcome home. Miami missed you,” Rabbi Groh said, extending his hand towards his gracious congregant.
Jacob Freiberg was a fabulously successful businessman who possessed a wealth of wisdom in nearly every facet of business and management, and he was not afraid to let you know it. He took pride in his unsolicited mentorship of everyone he dealt with, and his unwitting patrons learned that his advice was quite often helpful, and sometimes invaluable. In the rabbi’s early years navigating the politics of the Temple, he’d leaned on Jacob Freiberg for many of the most critical decisions. Jacob was not a tall man, and he was balding. But his rounded figure and big personality coupled with his kind smile and strong social skills made him a force in any room he entered. Everyone in Miami knew him. Either they did business with him, or they saw him in his courtside seats at the Miami Heat arena. The rabbi was always happy to see him. He valued his advice, and more and more over the years he came to see him first as a friend and a confidant.
Entering the rabbi’s expansive study, Jacob accepted a cup a coffee from the rabbi’s assistant and took a seat on the couch opposite the rabbi. When they were both seated, Jacob opened the conversation.
“So tell me, Rabbi, now that you are a famous Mossad agent and the Jews of the Ukraine are safe, what are you going to do for the Jews of this country?”
Rabbi Groh knew that Jacob never came to see him without a challenge, but he was surprised that Jacob was not asking about what he was going to do for his own Temple. While he assumed that Jacob was proud of what he’d accomplished in Europe, he thought that his visitor would want him to focus more on Temple affairs than world affairs.
“What do you mean, Jacob?”
“Charlottesville, Pittsburgh, Poway,” Jacob answered.
“It is definitely disturbing, but now with a new president, hopefully things will get better,” the rabbi said.
“It might, but it’s not. The president is different, and I believe he is a good man. Been great for Israel too. But the genie is out of the bottle,” Jacob persisted.
“The genie?”
“The last guy gave the green light to the extremists and the white supremacists, and you can’t just bottle them back up. Now with all their websites and chat groups, the fervor is not going away. It’s getting worse and worse. I saw the ADL Director on CNN last night wondering if we will ever be able to go back to normal,” Jacob argued.
“Yeah, a couple of people texted and asked if I saw that interview. I was here last night teaching the Confirmation class so I missed it,” the rabbi said.
“You might want to check it out. He said that he’d hoped things would improve when the new President moved into the White House. But he also said they’d recorded more anti-Semitic incidents this past year than ever. He sees things getting worse, not better.”
“I can tell you, what I saw in Ukraine was really scary. It was like going back in history to 1930s Germany. Jewish stores and synagogues attacked daily. I had a brush myself with a Molotov cocktail. It was not pleasant.”
“I’d hate to see it get to that point here, Rabbi,” Jacob responded.
“You really think that could happen? I mean, after all, this is not Eastern Europe,” the rabbi said.
“I don’t think it could happen. I think it is happening. It’s a new world out there. I thank God you had a place to send all those Ukrainian Jews. Just tell them to leave some apartments for us in case we are the next group to follow,” Jacob continued.
The rabbi nodded. This was a lot to digest. He was surprised that one of his most wise and trusted congregants was so pessimistic about the situation in their country. Perhaps things were even worse than the rabbi imagined. His mood had changed, and he felt a sudden need to consult with another trusted friend.
Both men recognized that the conversation had run its course when they saw the rabbi’s secretary at his door prepared to announce the arrival of his next appointment.
“Thank you for stopping by, Jacob. I will see you soon in Temple,” the rabbi said.
“Yes, you will. L’shanah Tovah, Rabbi. L’shanah Tovah.”