The Rabbi

I was hired as the director for a Jewish Temple Day camp in Los Angeles when I was 21.  Some of the campers were Jewish, and most were something else.  The 65 campers ranged in age from 6 to 14. 

I got to hire the 10 women and men counselors, and I was also the driver of the 65 passenger bus that took them to the beach, and all kinds of interesting places around Southern California.  I loved it.  All the counselors I hired were people-people. 

At the end of one day, before dropping the young people off at their homes  I first stopped by to see the Rabbi at the Temple to check on the schedule for the next day.  I left the bus waiting at the curb with the 65 campers plus 10 counselors.   "Bruce," the rabbi began, "When you drop off the seven-year old negro boy, tell him he cannot come back any more. Don't tell him why." 

”Tell me why,” I asked. 

"Because some of the parents said they did not want their children around negros, and

would withdraw their children." 
"No," I replied, "I will not do that." 
"It's a business decision," he said.  "We have to stay in business."
"I will not do that.  I will quit now if you ask again, and you can drive the children home and find another director.  With our history of being discriminated against and killed because we are Jewish, how could you even ask that?"

Instinctively, he replied with a standard business  response.  I was silent. He paused, and looked into my eyes.  In silence, he withdrew his request. 

I drove the "campers" home and the "negro" child got to return, and no parents removed their children over the rest of the summer. 

For me, I got to remove the pedestal  I carried about men and women of God   More importantly,I discovered a bit more awareness, and natural instinct to stand for, and with everyone, including the Rabbi.