Congregation Rocked by Rabbis’ Confession : Religion: They admit to once having a love affair with each other. But it is the woman, and not the man, who is leaving the San Diego temple.

As the silver-haired, senior rabbi at one of America’s most prestigious temples went before his congregation one night last week, the standing-room-only crowd grew profoundly silent.

Rabbi Michael Sternfield, 46, had come to confess the secret that he and his protege, Rabbi Laurie Coskey, 35, had kept for the last eight years.

Once, they had been lovers. Both were married to other people at the time.

“I am here to confess to the worst sin I ever committed in my life,” said Sternfield, leader of Congregation Beth Israel for the last 20 years. “This, for me, is truly Yom Kippur,” the Jewish Day of Atonement.

But it is not Sternfield who is leaving the temple. It is Coskey.

And it is this turn of events that has rocked the 117-year-old congregation, recognized nationwide for its size and influence in the U.S. Reform Jewish movement. Its roster of 1,400 families includes numerous San Diego business and civic leaders, among them the mayor.

Both rabbis have their ardent supporters. But as the extraordinary spectacle unfolded last week, it became clear that beyond the personalities, beyond the scandal, there was a consideration at stake as old as Jewish history: Somehow, the temple must endure.

Even Coskey said so. “Everyone who has shown so much love and concern for me will have to show that same love and concern for the temple,” she said in an interview Friday. “The temple can’t be the loser in this.”

In recent years, often prompted by Coskey and the activist bent she brought to the Beth Israel pulpit upon being ordained in 1985, the temple has forged a reputation for innovative--and sometimes controversial--outreach programs.

It opened its doors for political seminars, such as one last week on women’s issues. It sponsored worship services for people with AIDS and their families. It regularly produced “mixed doubles” seminars for interfaith partners.

As the temple developed into a progressive institution, a sharp contrast became evident between the two rabbis’ approach to the job. He is subdued, temple members said. She is quick to hug, even strangers.

Our “philosophies and priorities are very different,” Sternfield told the congregation at the meeting Thursday night. Coskey “tends to be much more emotive,” he said. “I, for one, have much more feeling for the conventional.”

Eight years ago, Sternfield said, when Coskey showed up at Beth Israel, he considered her a “breath of fresh air.” She arrived in June, 1985, having just graduated from rabbinical school.

It was a time of transition at the temple. Another young female rabbi had left in a dispute that temple members are still reluctant to discuss. Sternfield said Thursday night that she had been “sent on her way.”

Within weeks of Coskey’s arrival, Sternfield and the newcomer began an affair. “I was in a state of mental and marital stress,” he said. Betty Sternfield, the rabbi’s wife, also addressed the meeting Thursday night, saying her husband was “very vulnerable” after the “crisis” of the prior rabbi’s departure.

Coskey was also vulnerable. “She had begun work for an authority figure, in her first job, whom she trusted and respected and revered,” said a close friend who asked not to be named.

After the meeting, Sternfield declined a request for an interview. Coskey said Friday that she would not talk further about the affair.

Sternfield told the congregation that the affair went on for several months. It ended, and the rabbis strove to maintain the appearance that all was normal. Several congregation members said the pair seemed to work together beautifully, their styles meshing neatly.

Coskey was promoted after three years from assistant to associate rabbi, given regular raises in pay and eventually shared the rabbinical duties.

She earned a devoted following in the congregation, especially among women members.

“If God ever made a rabbi, it’s Laurie Coskey,” said Candace Carroll, a San Diego attorney. “If there’s a human being on the face of the Earth with the vocation to be a rabbi, it’s this woman.”

Looking out on the crowd gathered Thursday night in the temple’s blue-walled social hall, Coskey said she had “spent many of my happiest hours over the last seven years in this room.” She added later: “You are my extended family.”

While at Beth Israel, Coskey had two children and was later divorced. As of last year, she made $53,917 annually, according to legal documents filed in the divorce case. Sternfield made at least twice that much, said a source close to temple administrators.

About a year ago, Sternfield told Coskey he wanted to make a change. She would have to leave to make way for someone new.

Coskey believes that his desire to get rid of her can be traced to the affair.

“When my continuing efforts, and there were many of them, to improve the situation were unsuccessful,” she said in the interview, “I shared with key officers of the congregation the extent of our past relationship.

“I shared it with them only with the hope that with input and guidance we could privately improve the working environment,” she said.

It did not happen. It was not “as simple as the rabbis being incompatible,” Sternfield said Thursday night. He went on to charge that her relationship with the temple staff had deteriorated “far past the point of no return.”

The Beth Israel board, in consultation with lawyers for the temple and for Coskey, drew up a contract that would keep her as associate rabbi until May 31, 1994--and give her an added year’s salary as severance pay. She signed it.

Hal Coskey, a Los Angeles lawyer and Laurie Coskey’s father, said Sternfield’s charges of incompatibility with the staff seem implausible, considering that the temple agreed to keep her for another year.

She declined to comment on Sternfield’s charge: “I won’t say anything divisive.”

When the board approved Coskey’s contract last month, only two or three people on the 27-member board knew of the affair, board member Lawrence Newman said.

Shortly thereafter, rumors of the affair spread throughout the congregation. How it leaked out remains unclear.

“I truly have no idea,” Coskey said. “It is the most devastating thing of my life. I had agreed to leave, just to prevent this.”

But the rumors persisted. Finally, the board announced that the matter would be discussed at its March meeting. Interested congregants were urged to attend.

As the crowd filed into the social hall Thursday, emotions ran high. Both rabbis had vocal adherents. Many said they planned to make use of the open microphone.

But Sternfield stepped forward at the start of the meeting. “This is a painful and a very difficult moment for me,” he said as he began his 11-minute speech. “I, a married man, became involved in an affair with Rabbi Coskey, a married woman.”

Coskey followed him to the podium. She spoke for seven minutes. “To the extent the consequences of my actions have harmed the congregation, I am truly sorry,” she said.

Steven Temko, a San Diego attorney, was first to the microphone. Before the meeting he had handed out a flyer listing many questions he wanted answered. But in the aftermath of the dramatic announcements, he asked only one question: “Why does Laurie have to leave?”

Carroll was one of several more who asked why Coskey was the only one leaving.

“Whenever a man and a woman have engaged in sexual conduct that has harmed the community, it has always been the woman who was considered responsible and driven out,” she said. “It is not right that she be driven out and he stay.”

Under temple bylaws, it would take a vote of the full congregation to remove the senior rabbi. Sternfield clearly had solid backing in the crowd Thursday night. The temple announced Friday in postcards sent to each congregation member that a vote will be held April 4.

“He has been a major support for myself, my family,” one man said Thursday night. A young woman said Sternfield had officiated at her consecration, bat mitzvah and confirmation. “I want to be married in this temple by Rabbi Sternfield,” she said.

Some even thought that the trauma of public confession would make Sternfield a more effective rabbi.

“If anybody has learned from their mistake, it is Rabbi Sternfield,” one woman said. “It may be easier to go to someone who isn’t holier than thou, who will treat them with understanding and humility.”

For more than two hours, the debate raged. A consensus seemed to emerge: The fate of either rabbi was less important than the ongoing vitality of the temple.

“While Laurie and Michael are in the God business, they are not God,” said one congregant. “There’s a lot of hurt, a lot of tragedy, a lot of feelings out there. But in the long run, we’re all pragmatists. We have to do what’s right for the temple.”

What is right, however, remains difficult to divine.

“There is at this time a great deal of water that has passed under the bridge,” Coskey said. “Such waters can be cleansing and healing. I hope these will be such waters.”