Lights On

Some sixty years ago, two Groen families lived in Pontypool,Ontario, one was the Jelle Groen family, the other our family. Pontypool was then a small village on the rail line between Peterborough and Toronto. For some reason, an orthodox Jewish community from Toronto had chosen this as the place their members should spend their summers. So there were quite a few cottages in Pontypool (hovels is what they were). That's where quite a few of them lived for a while each summer. One summer a rabbi asked me to turn on the lights in his cottage each Saturday morning. If I did, there would be a dime on a ledge by the front door, and that was for me for turning on the lights. The rabbi could not turn on the lights, nor reach in his pocket for the dime. If it was wrong for the rabbi to do this, why was it alright for a christian, dutch immigrant kid to do it?