All is quiet as Rabbi James Stone Goodman of Neve Shalom sits alone in the lobby of Saul Mirowitz Jewish Community School waiting for the other members of the St. Louis Rabbinical Association to arrive.

“As far as I know, as long as I’ve been here, which is over 30 years, there’s never been a special session of the rabbinical association called,” said Goodman, the group’s president, his voice reverberating in the emptiness of the building’s deserted entryway.

There is one tonight. 

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” said Goodman. “This is really a new experience to me.”

In that, he could be echoing the sentiments of an entire city. In just one short hour, the Jewish community is about to hear, along with hundreds of thousands of wary St. Louisans, whether a grand jury will indict Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson in the shooting death of Michael Brown, an African-American teenager, in a case that made St. Louis ground zero for civil disturbances that captivated the nation last August. 

The question that seems to occupy everyone’s mind is whether the violence which accompanied that shooting would return again.

“The whole part of watching this happening on television was maddening to me. I couldn’t do that,” said Goodman who said he hoped the evening’s meeting would give people a chance to break the tension and collect their thoughts. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to get together and do something here. It felt like the right thing to do.”

The rabbi said he didn’t feel as anxious over the prospect of violence as some because he’d gotten to know the Ferguson community better since August.

“Before this all started, I didn’t know anybody there,” he said. “I went there because I felt like I needed to know people there. I live here. It wasn’t right that I didn’t know people there.”

Rabbi Jim Bennett of Shaare Emeth had complex feelings when asked how he felt regarding the upcoming decision and its possible consequences. He said he wasn’t anxious but he did express concern.

“I’m worried that people are revving themselves up,” he said. “I’m worried that people won’t take all these events seriously enough. And I’m also worried that people will take them too seriously.”

“I don’t know how to answer the question really,” he said after a moment.

He felt that there were larger issues at play.

“It’s clear to me that our society has to come to grips once and for all with this endemic problem of injustice that shows its face in so many different ways – the racial injustice that exists in our society, the economic injustice, the deep seated prejudices and fears that separate us from one another,” Bennett said. “I don’t know whether this event itself is the seminal moment but it is a moment for us in St. Louis to take stock.”

Cantor Ron Eichaker of United Hebrew Congregation said that he felt it was unfortunate that the issues involved seemed to be dominated by the individuals who shouted most forcefully.

“A lot of people are forming opinions and over the course of the evolution of this entire saga, the loudest voices seem to have prevailed at certain points in time which brings other people to raise their voices,” he said.

He felt that more facts may come to light over time.

“Right now, we don’t know anything for sure,” he said. “Once everything emerges, I’m sure there will be plenty of opinions and counter opinions. Once again, the loudest megaphone may prevail but only in the short run.”

As Goodman started the musical program nearby, Rabbi Ari Kaiman of Congregation B’nai Amoona said that while many anxieties over possible trouble and violence abound, he thought only of one fear – fear of God.

“What that means to me is that God is always the force that is giving us the best possible choices,” he said. 

“What we really need to be afraid of is making wrong choices.”

He said he hoped the evening would remain peaceful.

“I’m praying for people’s anger to not be equated with violence, not turn into violence,” he said. “I’m praying that people’s fears of awful things happening never come to fruition and we can breathe relief and recognize that all the people involved in this are human beings and that all human life matters.”

Kaiman struck an optimistic note saying that Americans have long worked for equality, justice and peace.

“That’s what it means to be American and live among one another,” he said. “I’m praying for a future where it is easier for every American to see one another as human beings and citizens.”

Meanwhile, 14 miles away near Kingshighway and Waterman, about three dozen were gathered at Central Reform Congregation, which had vowed to stay open all night as a sanctuary for anyone who felt the need to come, stay or talk. Jewish Family & Children’s Service social workers were even placed on on-call status. 

The temple’s sukkah remained up outside in the cold November wind with a  small taped sign explaining that it was left standing “to underline our heartfelt desire for more shalom, unity, justice, and love in our city during this time of great division and civic unrest.”

Inside, unity abounded. Congregants joined repeatedly in a circle, singing and praying prior to settling in before a television with a glitchy cable signal as the clock ticked down the minutes to the 8 p.m. grand jury announcement. 

“Begin with the silent heart of grief which precedes the ‘what it means’ question,” intoned Rabbi Susan Talve during a prayer. “The world is still cracked. Remember that hate corrupts but love repairs.”

“We continue to squeeze this story for more of what it means,” she continued. “It is a good question but not the only question.”

Talve told the assembled that she had been disappointed by media coverage which seemed to portray Ferguson in a negative light though the constant use of summer riot footage.

“That’s not now. It is safe here. It is good here,” she said. “We have to tell the story. You have to tell the story. We can’t let anybody else take our narrative from us. This is too important. This is such an important story to tell.”

The crowd grew quiet as the appointed time neared but as Prosecutor Bob McCullough was late to the podium, the tension seemed to ease a bit with the ebb and flow of conversation returning to the sanctuary.

Then McCullough appeared. The room went silent. Even the cable signal seem to clear up.

The CRC group betrayed little emotion as the decision not to indict Wilson was read though a feeling of melancholy appeared to sweep the room. The atmosphere in the temple was heavy and subdued.

Talve spoke again to the group recommending advocacy for measures such as civilian review boards, body cameras for police and a reorganization of municipalities. 

“There are going to be real systemic changes that are going to have to happen or the noise is not going to stop,” she said. “We want to turn all of this energy and noise into something that really honors the memory of Michael 

Brown and all of the other black and brown children who for whatever reason have been killed by violence.”

She then spoke about Brown. 

“He doesn’t get a second chance at 18,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper as the group again formed a circle and held a moment of silence. Outside in the atrium, an African-American woman began weeping and was comforted by two other women. 

Asked for comment by the reporter in the room, a few congregants declined to speak.

“I think a lot of us are disappointed,” said Jennifer Bernstein, director of advocacy and communications. “A lot of us who are parents don’t want any other parent to have to go through this.”

Suddenly, scenes on the television began showing video of tense confrontations between police and protestors. 

“I’ve got to go to Ferguson!” exclaimed the woman who’d wept earlier. “I’ve got to go right now!”

“We’re going to go together,” said Talve who quickly headed from the room.

The rest of the congregation turned back to the images on television. An audible groan went up from those who had stayed.

Smoke and tear gas were being deployed. A very long night had just begun.