By BILL DURYEA

© St. Petersburg Times, published August 11, 2000

Several years ago when he was studying at Cornell University, Seth Adelman had to quit a team so he could be true to his faith.

Though he loved rowing, the Saturday competitions were incompatible with observing the Sabbath, the period of prayer and rest between nightfall Friday and Saturday evening that is one of Judaism's most important tenets.

"I had basically been saying, "God will wait for me when I'm done with school,' " Adelman, an Orthodox Jew, said Tuesday. "To me that is very faulty thinking. You either live your life believing in God or you don't."

[Times photo:Pam Royal] Robby Cicco, shown here in his Seminole development office, finds it easier to eat at home than to try to deal with restaurants that are not kosher.

With the selection Monday of U.S. Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman, an Orthodox Jew, as the Democratic vice presidential nominee, the delicate balancing act of religious and professional obligations is receiving sudden scrutiny. Would Lieberman's religious observances, many asked, interfere with his responsibilities to the nation?

During his Senate career Lieberman has cast important votes on Saturdays (including one in support of the Persian Gulf War), though he has always walked to the Capitol rather than violate the prohibition against driving on the Sabbath.

Such are the sacrifices and compromises made by thousands of observant Jews in a modern society that still reflects the priorities of its Christian founders. The traditional closing day for shops is Sunday, for example, and rare is the restaurant kitchen that separates its meat and dairy products as required by Jewish dietary law.

"Any time you are a member of a minority, it's going to be more difficult than if you are a member of the majority," said Rabbi Shalom Adler, leader of Young Israel-Chabad, an Orthodox congregation in Palm Harbor. "But it's nothing that is insurmountable. With creativity you can get around it."

In general, the world has grown more accommodating of religious diversity since the first large waves of Jewish immigrants arrived in the United States at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th.

Back then, "There were many stories of people who were hired on Sunday and fired on Friday when they informed their boss they couldn't work on Saturday," Adler said.

Such stories are rare today, but as the world becomes increasingly enthralled by the demands and rewards of a supercharged global economy, deep religious practices -- quiet contemplation, for starters -- become harder to observe.

For Orthodox Jews such as Lieberman, the key has been recognizing their faith as the foundation of their life rather than an accessory.

"My faith is part of me. It's been at the center of who I've been all my life," Lieberman said Monday outside his home in New Haven, Conn.

Praying three times a day, in the morning, afternoon and evening, preferably in a synagogue with a group of 10 or more men, cannot be accomplished without planning, however. The morning prayer alone, performed while wearing phylacteries (small leather cases containing passages of scripture) can take 45 minutes. Not the kind of the activity one dashes off during a coffee break.

To strictly observe the Sabbath, one of God's commandments, requires that a person not drive or be driven, talk on the phone, turn the lights on or off, or even write. In short, do not create new things, even the spark of light made by a wall switch.

There are specific exemptions, the most important of which is pikuach nefesh, translated from Hebrew as "concern for human life." In the past, Lieberman and his rabbis have interpreted this to mean that issues that affect the public welfare demand his participation. In 1988, however, he videotaped a speech for the Connecticut state nominating convention rather than appear on the Sabbath.

The daily observances of average citizens are conducted far less dramatically.

Robby Cicco is a Pinellas County real estate developer who converted to Judaism as an adult. If you spent a day with him at work, he says, you wouldn't see him act out his faith -- though he does attend services three times a day.

The biggest adjustment he has to make is keeping kosher, observing the Jewish dietary laws. "There's no kosher restaurants in this town," he says.

He'll go to a restaurant to have a salad or fish, but he won't wear a yarmulke in a restaurant. He doesn't want to give other Jews the impression that it's okay to eat there. After all, they might see him and think the place is kosher, not realizing he's just having salad or fish.

"It's easier just to eat at home," he says.

For traveling business people, that is not always possible, and many are the deals cut over a steak and a couple of drinks.

Jim Plotkin spent 20 years on the road as a salesman before starting his own wholesale flower business in Tampa. He has never encountered the kind of overt discrimination that might have derailed his career or soured a deal for him, but there is plenty of confusion out there, he says.

"When I go out sometimes, people say, "I know it's not kosher, but you're not eating bacon,' " Plotkin, 46, says.

Rabbi Yossie Dubrowski, leader of the Chabad Lubavitch congregation in Carrollwood, where Plotkin is a member, says the rules are clear.

"People think you eat kosher, but if it's not available then you eat non-kosher. No. When I say eat kosher, eat kosher. Period. You can have a piece of fruit."

In communities with large Jewish populations, such as Williamsburg in Brooklyn, adherence to Jewish law is woven into every fiber of local life. In a far-flung region such as this, where the Orthodox synagogues can be counted on one hand, the prohibition against driving on the Sabbath poses a moral dilemma.

Dr. David Kalin, a family physician in Tampa, once lived within walking distance of his synagogue. But in his new home he no longer enjoys that convenience, so he drives, believing that, unlike some other religions that encourage a solitary pursuit of salvation, the Jewish faith is practiced best in a community.

"If you are not participating in the Jewish community, if no one sees you because you never leave your house, who is suffering?" says Kalin.

Rabbi Dubrowski, whose synagogue was built in a relatively undeveloped area so that his congregants had more opportunity to buy homes within walking distance, says he would counsel a person in such a position to stay home and pray. But he does not turn away anyone who drives.

Adelman, the Cornell graduate, says the prohibitions of Jewish law might seem onerous from the outside but are easier to understand when viewed as a voluntary sacrifice for one's faith.

Now working in the accounting department of a medical software company in Tampa, Adelman, 23, must make other accommodations. He leaves work early on Fridays -- especially early in the winter -- so he can be home before the Sabbath starts at sundown. Some years, he must use his two weeks of annual vacation to observe all the Jewish holy days, including Passover and Rosh Hoshanah, the Jewish new year. And when he has children, he says, he will need to look for activities similar to Little League that do not happen on the Sabbath.

"It's not drudgery," Adelman says, even for a young man denied the all-American obsession with Friday nights. "As you become more observant, the party life doesn't mean as much anymore."

Wednesday morning at 8:30 a.m., Dubrowski took a call from an Orthodox Jew in New Jersey. The man, a surgeon, was scheduled to come to Safety Harbor on Friday to deliver a lecture. He wanted to know if there was a synagogue within walking distance of his hotel.

There isn't, so he and his family will have to remain in their hotel room for the entirety of the Sabbath. Of course, they'll need food, so Dubrowski directed him to Jo-El's kosher market in north Tampa, which Dubrowski prefers. (He'll have to make the drive across the bay before sunset.)

"Ask for Menashe," Dubrowski said, referring to the mashgiach who enforces the dietary rules, "He'll tell you what you can buy."

Information from the Associated Press was used in this story.

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