One Fine Day the Rabbi Bought a Cross by Harry Kemelman Page B

himself, but Rabbi Small saw that the brass name-plate on the desk bore the name Joseph Kahn.
    There were a number of ledgers on the only visitor’s chair in the room, so Rabbi Small remained standing. For a moment or two Kahn surveyed him, his gray flannels and seersucker jacket, his linen cap, the fact that he was beardless, and then said patronizingly, almost insolently, “Ah, a Reform rabbi.”
    â€œNo, Conservative.”
    â€œSame thing.” Kahn sat down and pulled the ledger he had been working on toward him, as though in dismissal. Then he turned his head to Rabbi Small and said, “I don’t think Ish-Tov would be particularly interested in talking to you.”
    â€œNot even if I bring greetings from his parents?”
    â€œThey are well?”
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œThen I will convey it to him.”
    The angry retort that came to mind, Rabbi Small suppressed. He even managed to achieve a smile. “It seems curious,” he said, “that here in a yeshiva you would want to prevent one of your students from performing a mitzvah.”
    Kahn glared. “And what mitzvah is that?”
    â€œHonor your mother and father.”
    Kahn drummed nervously on his desktop as he took thought. Then he rose swiftly to his feet and said, “Perhaps you had better talk to Rabbi Karpis, our director,” and circling the desk, left the room. He was back after a minute or two and nodded for Rabbi Small to follow him. He led him down the corridor to a door marked “Director.” He knocked, opened the door, and stood aside for Rabbi Small to enter. Then he withdrew and closed the door behind him.
    The director was a large, fleshy man with a square gray beard. He sat behind an ornate teakwood desk that was clear except for a chessboard with a few pieces in place, which he had evidently been studying and which he pushed aside just as his visitor entered.
    Rabbi Small glanced at the board and immediately recognized the position of the pieces as a problem that had appeared in the newspaper a few days before.
    Rabbi Karpis caught the glance and asked, “You play chess? It’s a problem. White to move and mate in three. I’ll admit I’m baffled by it.” He spoke in English with a trace of a British accent.
    â€œYes, I saw it in the newspaper. You move the knight.”
    â€œWhy move the knight?”
    â€œJust to get it out of the way and clear the file.”
    â€œBut then black takes the queen.”
    â€œLet him. You move your other knight to bishop eight, which cuts off the black king from—”
    â€œAh, yes, I see. Of course. How stupid of me!” And then, “How long did it take you?”
    â€œA couple of days,” Rabbi Small lied. “And then it was mostly a matter of luck.”
    â€œHm.” Rabbi Karpis sat back and surveyed his visitor suspiciously from under lidded eyes. Then he said, “My colleague tells me you are a Conservative rabbi.”
    â€œYes, and he seemed to disapprove.”
    Rabbi Karpis smiled. “Mr. Kahn is”—he fished for a word and settled on—“young. Young men have strong convictions. While I am myself opposed to these experiments—Conservatism, Reform, Reconstructionism—with God’s commandments, nevertheless from time to time we have received support, financial support, for our work here from Jews of those persuasions.”
    â€œIndeed!” said Rabbi Small politely.
    â€œDoes it surprise you, Rabbi? Consider. Why do our students come to us? Because they wish to return to the beliefs and practices of their fathers. And why? Because while some of them have led perfectly normal, commonplace lives and found them unsatisfactory, others have experimented with strange religions, with drugs, with exotic life-styles. Some of them have even gotten in trouble with the secular authorities. And how do their parents feel about their coming to us, about their