“It’s just not the sort of kiddush we’re used to here,” Reuven said, aiming for an amiable tone. He would be the reasonable leader, appealing to logic and not emotion
The first issue was a halachah question about a letter in the sefer Torah.
It began as a low rumble from the bimah making its way across the sun-filled expanse of Beis Medrash d’Alameda Gardens. There were a few bewildering minutes as the baal korei looked around for someone to decide. Finally, left with no choice, Rabbi Wolf, who had been a congregational rav in Philadelphia and written several halachah books — and had made it clear that he was retired and had no interest in any more pulpit responsibility — slowly made his way over to the bimah to pasken.
Reuven Stagler didn’t think he was imagining the eyes boring holes in his back, the quiet, simmering accusation that this was his fault, that this huge shul was leaderless.
But a week later, it got worse. Lupinsky was part of a chevreh from Flatbush who were on the younger end of the spectrum for Alameda, still under 65 and very much into the “savor your retirement” thing. They wore golf whites and made a big show of going to play, and one night, Reuven had heard Lupinsky exult as he came into Minchah, “Now that was a run, wow. Beat my personal best by a longshot and boy, does it feel good!”
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