In a one-synagogue town, brothers Louie and Bernard embarrassed the Jewish community. Their business practices were ruthless and socially speaking, they were downright wicked. Worst of all, they whitewashed their sins with large contributions to the temple and the needy. Eventually, the town's Jews were turned off by the hypocrisy, and membership in the shul dwindled.
Then, the old rabbi died, and a sharp, energetic rabbi took his place. He invigorated the prayer services with upbeat melodies, challenged his congregants to think deeply, and solicited their creativity for further community initiatives.
The Rabbi also spoke openly, telling Louie and Bernard they would not be welcome at services until they changed their ways. The brothers disappeared, and membership grew and grew.
As a result, a larger shul was needed, but no one else in the town had enough money. The campaign to build a new shul would take years.
Then Louie died, and his brother Bernard approached the new rabbi.
"Rabbi, I'll pay for the new building—all of it—if you'll just speak at the funeral and say that my brother Louie was a mensch."
The rabbi thought about it for a while and took the check.
The funeral was huge. Everyone showed up to see if the rabbi would really lie in order to fund the building of the new shul.
They all leaned forward as the rabbi grimly took the pulpit.
"My friends, we're here today to bury a man who lived in this community for 70 years. What shall we say about him? Was he a kind man? Was he a good man? In truth, he cheated in business, he cheated on his taxes, he cheated at cards, and even cheated on his wife. But I must confess, compared to his brother, he was a mensch!"
