'So that is your idea of religion—to drive me from the synagogue. You are more likely to drive away the rest of the congregation, sick of always hearing the same sermon. As for me, you forget how I enjoy your eloquence, devoted though it is to the destruction of Judaism.'
'Me!' The minister became ungrammatical in his indignation.
'Yes, you. To mix up religion with the almanac. People who find that your Sabbath wall shuts them out of all public life and all professions, just go outside it altogether, and think themselves outside the gates of Judaism. If my father—peace be upon him—hadn't had your narrow notions, I should have gone to the Bar instead of being condemned to shop-keeping.'
'You are a very good devil's advocate now,' retorted the minister.
Simeon Samuels stroked his beard. 'Thank you. And I congratulate your client.'
'You are an Epikouros (Epicurean), and I am wasting my time.'
'And mine too.'
The minister strode into the shop. At the street-door he turned.
'Then you persist in setting a bad example?'
'A bad example! To whom? To your godly congregation? Considering every other shop in the town is open on Shabbos, one more or less can't upset them.'