So you want to be a Rebbetzin?

When a certain well-known rabbi heard I wanted to enter the rabbinate, he put his hands on my head, gave the top of my skull a long look, and said something along the lines of, “That’s strange; I don’t see anything wrong.”

Personally, I think he had the wrong party; I think he should have done that to my wife. To be a Rebbetzin you have to be, well, I don't know what . You must have a generosity gland that runs in twenty-four hour overdrive. You must have the patience of not just one saint, but several thousand of them. And you must lack any sense of self-preservation.

Think I’m exaggerating? Consider these points:

1. The rabbi will work 24/7 looking after the needs of people in the community, but will also receive Thank You and “Job well done” comments (yes, along with doses of righteous criticism…). The Rebbetzin will not have the rabbi’s help at home and will not have the rabbi’s companionship throughout that 24/7, and will receive far fewer Thank You and “Job well done” comments, if any.

2. People in the community will doubtless comment that they wish the Rebbetzin would teach more classes, attend more committee meetings, host more people and be involved in more projects. But because the Rebbetzin doesn’t function in an official capacity, she won’t have the opportunity to face those people and rebut them. The rabbi, at least, can attend a board meeting or speak from the pulpit; where is the Rebbetzin’s public forum?

3. The rabbi will certainly love his Rebbetzin, but he will equally certainly spend time talking to female committee members, counseling women, and so on. It’s all part of the job, the rabbi will say. And this will be the truth … but still…

4. The rabbi will wail and cry on his Rebbetzin's shoulder when things go wrong, when people get sick and die, when life in general becomes tough. The Rebbetzin, on the other hand, will generally not have the option of doing the same to him, because he will be out of the house taking care of other people who are wailing and crying on his shoulder.

I suppose it’s one thing for a woman to marry a man who then goes into the rabbinate, but I cannot fathom why a woman would actually marry a rabbi.

Of course, my rebbetzin did exactly that; go figure. I can’t understand women.

(originally written in honor of my wife and Rebbetzin's birthday several years ago...)

RenReb – Back from the dead, or only pretending?

I don’t have the time to write this, but I must: In a fine afikoman gift to the blogosphere, RenReb has posted her first new post in many, many months! (How did she know I’ve been good this year?) I feel like saying a ברוך מחיה המתים (Blessed is the One who resurrects the dead) blessing, only it hasn’t been twelve months since her last post… it just feels like it.

Yes, the Renegade Rebbetzin is back, or at least back for a day, for one post, a post which reminded me all over why I have loved to read her site. It was funny and personal and hit on something that has upset me greatly (the horrible death of Rabbi Jacob and Devorah Rubenstein) and then made me laugh with its notes about the Rebbetzin as appendage… and it was altogether too short.

One reason I like today’s RenReb post is that it reminds me of why I named this blog “The Rebbetzin’s Husband” in the first place. (Well, not in the first place. I only used this name when someone posted it several months ago in response to my “Help me name this blog” post. I really mean, why I used that name for this blog at all.)

My wife is altogether too often mis-identified as “The Rabbi’s Wife.” That is a farce; the Rebbetzin role is its own entity, with way too many unique responsibilities and way too many skill requirements to be categorized as Rabbi Redux. The Rebbetzin is mother to many, counselor to many, friend to many, teacher to many, host to many, even halachic resource to many - this aside from all of the ways she makes me a better rabbi – and to call her “Rabbi’s Wife” is as absurd as to call a rabbi “The Rebbetzin’s Husband.” (Or to have an orange on the seder plate, but that’s another topic.)

Two notes, for the record:
1) My wife is not the Renegade Rebbetzin. She certainly is one of the many, many rebbetzins who have been suspected of this. To be honest, I would love to see her blog one day. But no, she is not it.

2) My blog title is not, in any way, meant to indicate any association with her blog, which I readily acknowledge is far superior to mine. Hers is funny, mine is not. Hers is personal in the way an anonymous rabbinic blog can be; mine is not. Hers makes me want to keep on my reading; I don’t like reading my own writing.

The Renegade Rebbetzin blog is still the blog I would love to write, if only I possessed the sense of humor and the anonymity. The former I can’t have, because either you have it or you don’t. The latter I can’t have either, because my ego won’t allow it. So, I muddle on.

RenReb, thanks for re-surfacing. Hope to hear from you again.