“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!”

Lupinsky’s oldest einekel had just gotten engaged and he wanted to give kiddush, but it wasn’t until Shabbos morning that Reuven realized what he meant by kiddush. Officially, this had nothing to do with Reuven — Blau was gabbai in the shul and he kept the schedule of who was sponsoring kiddush — but the noise it was causing all flowed in Reuven’s direction.

The smells from the side room had been wafting into the shul since shlishi, and there was grumbling at Reuven’s table about that. After Kedushah of Mussaf, Reuven, who would never normally step out of shul until davening was fully done — he wasn’t one of those kiddush club types who couldn’t handle an extra song or derashah — went to check what was going on. He stepped into the side room and felt like an actor in a play doing a literal double take: closing his eyes, stepping back and then looking again, as if the scene might have changed. It was a dramatic move, he knew, but it hadn’t been planned.