Why Do Rabbis Crash?

In an article titled "Rabbis on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown", Jay Michaelson contends that the special political/emotional/psychological pressures of the rabbinate, coupled with the workload, could be one reason behind the regular appearance of scandalously poor decision-making by people who are trained to be wise, selfless community leaders.

In the comments on his piece, the author is taken to task by readers who think he is exonerating misbehaving rabbis. But I don't think he's finding criminals innocent; I think he is trying to identify a flaw in the system, which is making their crimes more likely. And I think I have something to add to that useful endeavour: 

Many articles have documented the link between exhaustion and impulsivity and poor self-control. Perhaps one of the best is a 2002 piece by the incredibly well-published psychologist and professor Dr. Roy Baumeister in The Journal of Consumer Research, titled, "Yielding to Temptation: Self-Control Failure, Impulsive Purchasing, andConsumer Behavior". [It's certainly influential; according to Google, it's been cited in 625 separate publications.]

Per Dr. Baumeister, one of the key ingredients of self-control is "the capacity to alter the self." And he contends, citing studies, that someone who perpetually exercises self-control can actually deplete it, making it unlikely that he will be able to continue to apply self-control. In one study, "participants in various control conditions were exposed to similar stimuli but did not have to regulate their behavior. For example, they watched the same upsetting film without having to regulate their emotions, or they were permitted to eat the chocolates and cookies instead of the radishes. Afterward, we measured self-regulation in ostensibly unrelated other tasks, such as physical stamina on a handgrip exerciser, persistence in the face of failure on unsolvable anagrams, or refraining from laughing and smiling while watching a comedy video. The findings repeatedly showed that self-control was poorest among people who had already performed a prior act of self-control."

Now imagine a rabbi who is involved with congregants on many diverse levels – pastoral, administrative, ritual, social, organizational – for 90-100 hours per week, including Shabbat. And imagine that yes, he owns impulses for grossly inappropriate behaviour. But he doesn't have daily time to flee the situation and recharge. How long will it be before he yields to a grotesquely wrong impulse?

Of course, other jobs also involve long, intense hours – and we see these breakdowns of self-control among professionals in those fields, too. We see it among politicians and doctors, police officers and nurses. And we see it among mothers. [It may exist in the modern wave of stay at home dads, too; I don't know.]

The uncomfortable reality, which I observed in my own synagogue rabbinate days, is that the job we have created for synagogue rabbis is impossible. Not "impossible" in the sense of "boy, that's hard". "Impossible" in the sense that there are not enough hours for them to do the job demanded of them, and recharge.

Here's a breakdown of a sample rabbinic week, acknowledging it depends on the nature of the shul/community:

3 classes = 3 hours of class, 9 hours of preparation = 12 hours

Shabbat sermon = 4 hours of preparation (on a good week!)

Hospital visits = 6 visits = 4 hours

2 funerals = 4 hours for the funerals, 4 hours beforehand with the families, 3 hours of attending the shivah homes = 11 hours

Nursing home visit = 1 visit to see various patients = 2.5 hours

Shul bulletin responsibilities = 1 hour (will vary widely across shuls)

Pastoral counseling = 8 appointments (if he's lucky) = 6 hours (if he's even luckier)

Answering halachic questions = 45 minutes each non-Shabbat day = 4.5 hours

Answering email questions/comments from the community = 30 minutes per day, including Motzaei Shabbat = 3.5 hours (if he's absurdly lucky)

Community organization meetings (schools, UJA Federation, JCC, etc) = 2 per week, 2 hours each = 4 hours

Tzedakah disbursement = 1 hour (will vary widely)

Attend 2 weddings = 4 hours per wedding = 8 hours (seasonal, of course, and depends on community)

Attend 2 L'chaims = 30 minutes per L'Chaim = 1 hour (ditto)

Work with shul committees to plan programs = 3 meetings = 3 hours

Preparing divrei torah/articles for special events = 2 hours

Participate in three shul programs (Sisterhood, youth, social, etc) = 3 hours           

This list is already at 70 hours, and it does not include:

Shabbos responsibilities

Pre-Yom Tov responsibilities
Community dinners and fundraising events

Responsibilities to the Eruv, Vaad haKashrut, Chevra Kadisha – and, yes, mikvah

Daf Yomi, which is standard for rabbis in many communities

Responsibilities to community organizations beyond attending a meeting

Learning with conversion candidates
Other life-cycle events - Bris, Pidyon haBen, Unveiling, etc.

Teaching Bar Mitzvah and Bar Mitzvah students

Meeting with couples to prepare for marriage

Mediating disputes within families or between people

Writing articles for local newspapers

Calling shut-ins to wish them Good Shabbos

Oversee Adult Education efforts

Legwork to help people find work, a shidduch, a chavruta or a pair of tefillin

Meet with potential donors for the shul

And contrary to popular belief, this is not subject to synagogue size. A smaller community will have fewer hours devoted to some of the items on this list, but that will be balanced by greater responsibilities in other areas. In a smaller synagogue, rabbis have greater administrative responsibilities, and greater roles in communal institutions. They also do the programming/promotional work which is managed by committees in larger synagogues.

So yes – I'm not exaggerating when I say this is an impossible job. There is no opportunity to recharge the resources of self-control.

Is there anything we can do? Maybe, but I think that the best shot comes not from the rabbis or their organizations, but from the communities. It's Reality, for at least these three reasons::

1. There are more rabbis than there are positions, and so a shul can create an unrealistic job description and find a dozen or more qualified applicants. There is no check on the Search Committee and its polls of the synagogue membership, and no one saying, "Does that actually work?"

2. Rabbis are poor time managers. I believe it's a product of the system of yeshiva education, in part, in which we just throw time at our learning without spending a lot of energy figuring out whether we are learning efficiently. All use of time for Torah is good, right? [I also suspect that the rabbinate self-selects people who fit this mold; anyone with a sane understanding of how time works would find a different life.]

3. Rabbis are heirs to a tradition that idolizes total dedication, as I discussed here.

So I'd like to see the communities take the lead on recognizing the problem posed by their job descriptions.

I once counseled a friend who was interviewed for a shul job that was advertised as 20 hours per week. I suggested that he ask the committee how they wanted the 20 hours used. As I sit here now, I think that would be a good exercise for search committees in general, before they ever see candidates – break down the hours of the week and see how they fit your job description.

I have much more to say on the topic, but the reason I post only infrequently is that I am also doing one of those ridiculous jobs. I think my self-control is saved by the time I spend locked in traffic on Bathurst; if I don't use the phone at those times, and I let go of the fantasy that switching lanes will get me to my destination sooner, then that becomes time for my recharging…

But I have written a lot on the Rabbinic Job Description over the years; click here for other posts on the topic.

On Rabbinic Autonomy

A while back, I was speaking to a young rabbi who was entering his first pulpit, and he mentioned that in a shul he would have the freedom and flexibility to do that which he thought was most important for the community, and to do at the time that he felt would work best for thim and for the community. That reminded me of an important lesson regarding the synagogue rabbinate, as well as life in general: Don't confuse limited autonomy for total freedom.

It is true that shuls tend to trust their rabbis to make their own schedules; the rabbi decides when to visit people in the hospital and when to prepare shiurim, how much time to spend on counseling and administration and teaching and tzedakah distribution, and whether the shul needs another shiur or another chesed program. However, the rabbi who mistakes this brand of autonomy for total freedom is, in my opinion, making a significant error.

The shul rabbi's autonomy is like that of any contractor – the board wants a healthy community, and trusts the rabbi to decide how best to do that. However, the shul has a vision of what a healthy community looks like, and the rabbi who ignores their vision in favour of his own does so at his own peril. [Note: the wise rabbi will openly and honestly share his vision of "healthy community" when interviewed, and the search committee should vote for a rabbi whose vision matches that of the shul.]

If the shul wants a community in which members regularly consult with the rabbi about their personal troubles or schmooze with the rabbi at the kiddush, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

If the shul wants a community in which the rabbi teaches a shiur for every group of three Jews who want it, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

If the shul wants a community in which the rabbi is a regular contributor to the Op-Ed columns of the local newspaper and a bridge-builder to other sectors of society, then the rabbi had better make sure to provide that.

Of course, there is ample opportunity for the rabbi to sell his vision, and if the community responds well, then that may come to be the community's vision. And the sensitive rabbi is open to learning and evolving, and adapting his vision to the lessons he picks up in the community. The "healthy community" vison may well be a moving target, and both parties can/should shift and grow.

My point is only what I said at the outset: The rabbi dare not confuse limited autonomy for total freedom. Keep an eye on your job description, my friend.

The Rabbi's Toolbox: Head or Heart?

I know in advance that the answer is טוב אשר תאחוז בזה וגם מזה אל תנח את ידיך (Kohelet 7:18 – "It would be good for you to hold to this, but not to drop the other as well"), but I still find it useful to think about this question: Which is more important for a shul rabbi, the head or the heart?

The head is needed for so many aspects of the rabbi's job, including:

Teaching Torah;

Counseling;

Composing derashos;

Answering halachic questions;

Resolving disputes;

Serving administratively;

Working with committees;

Managing communal needs and guiding institutions.

But the heart is needed for so much of what the rabbi does, too:

Reaching out to people proactively;

Sympathy and empathy for people in need;

Understanding the people who ask halachic questions, or come to shiurim;

Communicating Judaism passionately;

Treating his job as far more than a job, so that he will live it.

I said that I find it "useful" to think about this. Like anyone in any career, a rabbi has his tools, and the one who makes sure to maintain his tools will do his job well. The rabbi ought to check on himself regularly, ensuring that all of the tools of the trade are in good condition, updated as needed, and so on. Thus it's useful for the rabbi to ask himself what his tools are, how he uses them, and whether he is keeping them in a useful state.

But to go back to the question: Which is more important?

As I said at the outset, it would be realistic to say both of these are necessary. Still, I would note that I have seen shul rabbis succeed despite not being of a very intellectual bent. I don't think I have ever seen a shul rabbi succeed without having the heart for it. So I’d have to vote for heart.

What do you think?

The Rabbi's Job Description

I mentioned here that I once surveyed my board, to get a better handle on their view of the rabbi's job description.

In that survey, I submitted sixteen scenarios, taken from eight different areas of rabbinic work, and asked them to answer (a) whether these were items for the rabbi to handle, and (b) how high a priority these should be for the rabbi, on a scale of 1 to 10.

I found the results very useful, and not entirely what I had expected. (To honor confidentiality, I will not discuss the actual results here. Sorry.)

In retrospect, I would do two things differently:
1) Poll the whole shul as well;
2) Change the ranking to 1-5 instead of 1-10; I find that people do better with 1-5.

Here are the scenarios:

Halachic Authority
Offering religious guidance on when to recite certain prayers or blessings
Handling kashrut questions

Officiant
Addressing ideas for making the shul davening more inspirational
Helping plan and organize ritual celebrations

Educator
Implementing programs for communal and individual study
Making sure the library is an up-to-date, well-stocked resource

Counselor
Advising on ways to relate to a lesbian daughter
Providing marital counseling

Pastor
Making sure members know the shul is “there for them” and responsive to them
Providing short-term assistance in a financial crisis

Program Coordinator
Drafting a flyer publicizing a shul event
Recruiting people for a shul program

Community Representative
Writing a column on a Jewish theme for the local newspaper
Serving as the Jewish representative on the board of the local hospice

Building manager
Adjusting the heat or A/C for the morning minyan
Making sure the synagogue building is open for a program

Take the survey; I'd love to see what you - and your shul board - do with it...

Rabbinic Term Limits?

I’ve been thinking about the issue of rabbinic turnover, and the effect it has on a community.

Certainly, there are many reasons why communities and rabbis prefer long-term relationships, among them:

• From the rabbi’s perspective, it’s satisfying and fulfilling to see the results of his labors. It’s incomparably wonderful to see a family evolve, a child grow up, a learning process bear fruit.

• From the rabbi’s perspective, as well, job security is important. Starting in a new community, with all of the potential mistrust and misunderstandings, is very difficult; working with people you know, people who know you, is far less stressful.

• Again from the rabbi’s perspective, making friends and becoming close with people is hard to do if your horizon is short-term.

• From the rabbi’s perspective as well as the community’s perspective: Seniority helps the rabbi deal with communal issues; no one can say to him, “We used to do it this way,” “We always did it that way.” And people feel less like, “Rabbis come and rabbis go, let’s do what we want.”

• From the community’s perspective, it’s important to retain institutional memory. Generally, the rabbi, who knows every congregant and is involved in many of the events and stories of shul administration, is the repository of that memory.

• Also from the community’s perspective, it’s better to have a rabbi who stays for many years, to enable long-term communal planning and development, as well as long-term relationships.

• From everyone’s point of view: In dealing with community-wide institutions, it’s good to have a rabbi who has seniority and can speak to history, as well as the present, from a position of knowledge and wisdom.

• And further for the community: If the rabbi is good at what he does, who would want to change that?

But I’ve been thinking lately about the advantages of rabbinic rotation. I’m not advocating term limits, but I do see benefits for a community when the rabbi is not there forever:

• Most rabbis have a certain style, whether in teaching or programming or speaking or running the davening, and after a while people can become numb to it;

• Every rabbi has certain flaws and faults, things he doesn’t notice or areas in which he does not function that well. Bringing in a new rabbi can compensate, as these new areas may be addressed;

• Rabbis, themselves, can stagnate when they do the same job for too long, once they have gotten everything under control and they are set in a routine;

• Most perilously, rabbis who are in place for a long time may end up running certain areas of communal life to such an extent that his ultimate departure leaves too great a vacuum.

Overall, in my mind, the balance is still in favor of long-term rabbinates, but it’s just something to think about.

The Rabbi Abhors Thursdays

"This must be Thursday," said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer, "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."
(Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)

While it is true that, unlike Arthur Dent’s Earth, my planet does not normally get blown up on Thursdays, those days of the week are no less traumatic for me. More traumatic, actually; were Earth to simply disappear on Thursday, I would not need to worry about Shabbat derashot and classes and the kiddush and Sunday’s shiurim, etc.

Of course, the most likely timing is that I would work insanely all day Thursday to prepare the various items, finish or retire for the night at 11:58 PM, only to have the world blow up at 11:59 PM.

Some rabbis, I have heard, are more bothered by Fridays, but not me. I think it’s because I have low expectations for Fridays; I write them off in advance as utter chaos, try not to schedule any serious work for those days, and then survive them by running from one thing to the next to the next.

Thursdays, on the other hand, are a disaster. Even though I set aside time to prepare the derashah etc, other communal and individual needs inevitably develop and require immediate attention, and by the end of the day I’m frantically thinking, “I can’t afford to leave any of this for Friday!” Not to mention I have a standing 5 AM appointment on Friday mornings, which (theoretically) necessitates getting to bed on Thursday night by 11 PM…

The gemara agrees with me, I’m happy to say, that Thursday is supposed to be the prep day for Shabbos. The gemara talks about shopping for Shabbos on Thursday and taking haircuts on Thursday; they knew what I am talking about. Yosef Mokir Shavi (Shabbos 119a) may be running around buying up all the fish on Friday afternoon, but I’m with Shammai (Beitzah 16a) – if I have to choose between the chance of landing Yosef’s world-class gem or keeping my sanity, I’ll go with the sanity, thank you very much.

Of course, you might ask, “Why is this post here on Tuesday? Thursday isn’t for another two days!”

But if you have been reading attentively, you know why – because every Thursday I think about writing this post, but the world intrudes, as do my Shabbos preparations, and it never happens. So here it is, on Tuesday, and should the world not explode on Thursday, feel free to re-read it then.

I got the Motts-ah… and some reinforcement

Yesterday I drove into Brooklyn to pick up our community’s Shatzer hand-shmurah matzah for Pesach, as I do each year. [Last year I blogged the annual trip here.]

The drive was relatively uneventful, thank Gd. The drivers were the usual, the double-parkers were the usual, and the rain did not begin until I was almost home.

New Jersey still makes me laugh, though.

Driving from Highway 78 to the Holland Tunnel, you take a short ride north up the eastern edge of New Jersey, so that New Jersey is on your left and New York City is on your right, and the difference between the two states is crystal-clear. On your left, marshy swamp and factories. On your right, tall, graceful skyscrapers, the NYC skyline, the Liberty Science Center, and the Statue of Liberty (which may belong to New Jersey in title, but is so New York in character).

New Jersey drivers are amusing, too. When New Jersey drivers try to drive tough, it’s like they’re trying on something that’s too big for them; they remind me of small boy wearing his father’s suit jacket.

While headed in, I caught a radio interview with an author (I never caught his name) discussing his new book. Apparently, much of the book is about his relationship, or lack thereof, with his father. His father was a successful businessman who spent all of his time on work and none of his time on his son.

The son became a high school football star – and the father never came to see him play. Once, the father came to the State Championship game, stood there talking to two other men in suits for a few minutes, then left.

It’s a familiar story, even a tired one in the sense that there isn’t anything to add; we’ve all heard it and seen it in one form or another, and we know it’s awful, even abusive. Parents shape their children’s lives with the love they show and the love they withhold.

But it reinforced me in my decision to step away from the pulpit.

Although every rational congregant wants the rabbi to spend time with his family, the rabbi forever deals with tension between wanting to save the world and wanting to be with his wife and children. The fact that the latter often involves fun and relaxation makes it seem more about personal enjoyment, something optional – as opposed to sitting at a hospital bed, counseling someone in need, teaching a shiur or attending a community program.

I think I have done a decent job of balancing the two sides, the community’s needs and my family’s needs, but in the end one side must always pay for the other. Perhaps parents of young children simply shouldn’t be pulpit rabbis; I don’t know. But listening to that wounded author speak, I knew once again that this move is the right thing.

…which is a good thing, because housing in Toronto is double, literally, what it costs in Allentown…

A rabbi's Pre-Pesach 2009 list

A Mother in Israel posts her list of Pesach to-do items.

The Talmid, commenting on a recent post of mine, mentions his own pre-Yom Tov lists.

So here's my own pre-Pesach list - it doesn't include derashot and shiurim for Pesach, just the other types of fun that rabbis can have in preparing for Pesach. It's a random list of chores, assembled over the years:

* Arrange barrel for burning of Chametz in the shul lot
* Prepare materials and documents for the sale
* Have custodian clean out the storage room behind the stage from all chametz
* After sale of chametz, put up "Sold" signs on shul areas containing chametz
* Prepare letter re: post-Pesach Chametz for mailing
* Arrange Pesach kiddush cup and bottle of wine for shul
* Put flyers for post-Pesach events into Pesach bulletin
* Talk to Sisterhood about selling their chametz
* Update yardwork file to list days when landscapers can't come
* Put Pesach schedule and bulletin on website
* Remind ______________ to delegate me to sell her Chametz (she wants to be reminded)
* Arrange Chametz Drive for Second Harvest
* Set up schedule to learn for Siyyum Bechorim
* Fill out forms for the Shul's chametz
* Arrange pre-Pesach Friday night dinner, if there will be one
* Make sure trash cans will be emptied pre-Bedikah at Shul
* Annual pre-Pesach letter announcing which Jewish stores have, and have not, sold their chametz
* Figure out a plan of which Sefer Torah to use when and roll when. Can do well if you start with 1 at Pinchas, 1 at Emor, 1 at Bo.
* Remind mashgiach to take care of Weis and JCC sales
* Arrange sales, for the 13th and 14th of Nisan ,with our purchaser
* Set up Yizkor display for last days of Yom Tov; change back afterward
* Announce men's Mikvah times for Erev Pesach
* Prepare a pre-Pesach “cleaning for Pesach” class
* Contact people to see if they need Maos Chitim
* Prepare Haggadah class for Shabbat haGadol
* When placing the Matzah order, ask them for the wholesale price and confirm what it is
* Remind people to check new clothes for Shatnez, and to clean out Chametz from lockers/Shtenders
* Check which kiddush items are, and are not, Mezonot (since so many are potato starch)
* Clean out shul lockers from chametz
* Renew Eruv Chatzeirot
* Print out Omer chart to post in shul
* Get speakers for Shavuot night program - Adults and Teens

Yes, I do know how to delegate - but at this time of year, with so much going on, I take the shortcut and do it myself. Delegating is healthier, but I can't afford the time in the run-up to Pesach.

Now, if I could only find what I did with the list of items the esteemed Rebbetzin wants me to do... it was here somewhere...

I won't miss the parsley

[The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is here!]

I know I will miss many, many aspects of the shul rabbinate.

I’m having a hard time mentally separating from some of the responsibilities of my Rabbi life; I love what I do.

More, saying ‘Goodbye’ to so many good friends is hard. (Yes, we’ll keep in touch, but Facebook etc are not the same.)

Also, to be frank, much of my sense of self-worth is tied into the things I do, particularly the pastoral role. I expect I will continue to be involved in chesed, but it will not be with the intensity of a shul rabbi. So leaving the shul rabbinate is difficult.

Still, there are many roles, great and small, that I will not miss.

The ‘great’ items include Yamim Noraim, Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. I have never had the experience of davening in a shul like any other mispallel (congregant) on those days – I went straight from yeshiva into the rabbinate. I wonder what it’s like to simply come to shul to daven, without worrying about leining, shofar, speaking and inspiring people, the pesichos, the gabboim, the air conditioning and the lights timers, etc.

Another of the ‘great’ items is the psak (legal authority) involved in running a community. Knowing that everyone’s kitchens, everyone’s Shabbat-carrying, everyone’s taharat hamishpachah (family purity) depends on my attention to halachic detail weighs heavily on my shoulders.

A third ‘great’ item is the derashah responsibility. I love feeling that I’ve completed a solid dvar torah that has a good message, that is well-written, that has a good chance of inspiring people - but I have a hard time with the pressure of doing that week-in, week-out. Thursday afternoons are very tough.

On the other hand, those great responsibilities come with great satisfaction and fulfillment, and I know I’ve grown from them.

But then there are the smaller matters, day-to-day things which I will be glad to leave to someone else’s neuroses. Examples:
• Making sure the lighting timers and A/C are set for Shabbat and Yom Tov
• Sending the landscapers a schedule of which days they shouldn’t come – and making sure they stick to it
• Notifying custodians of dead light bulbs, or changing them myself; ditto for clocks with dead batteries
• Bug-checking the kiddush parsley and strawberries
• Unlocking the Aron Kodesh for Shabbat, and rolling the Sifrei Torah to the right place
• Ensuring there’s a minyan twice each day
• Fielding complaints about seating for Yamim Noraim
• Making sure the shul is locked/alarmed each night
• Correcting chazanim and baalei keriah
• Making sure the custodian orders Shabbat toilet paper
• Setting up zmanim (times) for davening, etc.
• Dealing with supermarket bakery personnel who once violated the kashrut supervision rules and now won’t look me in the eye
And so on.

Not all shul rabbis need to do all of these things – shuls often assign house committees and gabbaim to manage some of these items – but all shul rabbis have some version of this list. (Go ahead, give your rabbi a hug and tell him you know what he handles every day.)

So the next time I question my decision, I’ll just look back at that list. I’ll miss a lot of the responsibilities, I’ll miss the people, but I won’t miss the parsley.

What sort of questions should you ask a rabbi?

A while back (in response to my post on Choosing a Rabbi) I was asked: “for what types of questions do you think a person needs to turn to a rabbi.”

I replied: "What time is it," "Will it rain today," "What is my favorite color," that sort of thing.

My questioner pressed: i don't understand. why would i ask a rabbi those questions?

To which I answered:
"What time is it" - To know when to daven.
"Will it rain today" - To know whether to put on a raincoat.
"What is my favorite color" - To figure out which suit I should get.
All right, fine. It's just my sense of humor. In truth, the answer is that this is a very vague issue, without a clear resolution. I might post on this in the next week or so.


It’s been three months rather than a week, but here are two thoughts on the topic. They're really just common sense, but you asked...


1) Ask the right person
It is popular to ridicule chasidim who consult with their Rebbe about a business venture, or about a medical treatment. People allege that a Rebbe will overstep his knowledge and experience, advising followers with his “Daas Torah” on areas about which he knows nothing.

Many of the ridiculers are simply insecure about their own reliance upon - or non-reliance upon - advice from the Torah. In general, people who ridicule betray a problem of their own. (cf כל הפוסל במומו פוסל - Those who insult others, do so regarding a blemish they see in themselves.)

In truth, though, I do agree that this sort of overreach is a potential problem – but it’s easy to solve: Just choose a humble mentor who knows his own limits. As the gemara (Chagigah 15b) advises, choose a mentor who appears to you like a מלאך, an angel - and angels (with a couple of notable midrashic exceptions) have no ego.

Humility is very easy to identify – pick someone who regularly uses the magic words, “I don’t know,” “I’m not sure,” and the like.


2) Know what sort of answer you expect.
If the mentor knows his own limits, then what remains is for the questioner to manage his own expectations. Ask a rabbi any question you like, but know what you want in terms of an answer.

An answer may be פסק (halachic ruling): מותר, אסור, Do this, Don’t do that.
Example: I can ask about basketball on shabbos, or mixed swimming, or organ donation, and expect a clear halachic analysis.

An answer may be חוות דעתו (expression of his opinion): Based on my knowledge of Torah and my life experience, consider X path.
Example: I can ask about schools for my children, and my mentor can give me the benefit of his experience.

An answer may be Food for thought: Here are a few aspects to contemplate.
Example: I can ask a mentor about a potential move - expecting my mentor to point out issues of potential concern.

And an answer may be Guidance: Assistance in figuring out the right questions to ask, as well as the right answer.
Example: I can ask my rebbe about dating, and my rebbe can help direct my thinking.

So know what type of response you seek. Also, make sure to convey that information as part of the question. This is important so that your rabbi will not feel pressed to extend his advice beyond his reliable pool of knowledge.


Once you have both of those elements - the humble mentor and a clear understanding of what type of answer you expect - ask any question you like. Business, medicine, where to live, halachah, hashkafah, anything is safe.


And, by the way: It’s 10:00 AM, weather.com says it will rain here today, and your favorite color is pine green. Or puce; I'm humbly uncertain.

Young and Dynamic and 124/78

As Arnold Fine used to say, “I remember when…” In this case, I remember when I was young and dynamic.

Among the absurdly overworked laudatory cliches used to describe and address rabbis –“tireless,” “thankless,” “I’ve heard such wonderful things about you” etc – one of my favorites is “young and dynamic.” As in, “Our young and dynamic rabbi is very involved with our youth group, our basketball league, our Hebrew school…”

I kid you not: A Google search for rabbi and “young and dynamic” yields 604 results. The first page alone includes:

Rabbi Elad-Appelbaum and three of her female rabbinic colleagues are emblematic of the face of today’s Masorti movement: young and dynamic role models

But the young people see that she is young and dynamic and gives something up of herself. She brings what a rabbi is into focus

It was a Reform (liberal) synagogue and there I met a young and dynamic Rabbi who showed me that Judaism could be open, wonderful and loving.

another young and dynamic rabbi, who was soon to become famous (from Jonathan Sarna, no less!)

The Siyum (conclusion of the writing of the Torah) was heralded by Rabbi Alex Mondrow, the young and dynamic spiritual leader of Congregation Birkat Shmuel

Rabbi Kanefsky is a young and dynamic orthodox rabbi, with a strong sense of social justice

…and so on… Even the phrase “dynamic young rabbi” yields 206 results.

And is theres any shul out there seeking a rabbi that doesn't put "seeking a young, dynamic rabbi" in their search description?

I am only 36, and I’ll challenge anyone to find an aspect of our shul or community to which I don’t devote serious time and energy, but I don’t feel like “young and dynamic” makes sense as a description for me anymore.

Maybe it’s because I have four kids.
Maybe it’s because I am starting to get visible silver on my temples.
Maybe it’s because I’m no longer in the “young” set at the gym.
Maybe it’s because doctors no longer say, “I’ve never seen such a young rabbi” when I visit their hospital patients.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been a rabbinic mentor for three years now.

Or maybe it’s because I gave blood on Sunday and they took my blood pressure and it was 124/78. For many years I was a 110/70 guy, so I looked this new number up on-line and found out that this was once considered safe - but no longer; now it’s called “prehypertension.”

To quote the folks at the Mayo Clinic, Prehypertension is a systolic pressure from 120 to 139 millimeters of mercury (mm Hg) or a diastolic pressure from 80 to 89 mm Hg.

In truth, it could be that I scored high because I get anxious about having people stick long needles into my veins. Or it could be a blip from Shabbos food. Or it could be from my anticipation of a day that included running storytime programs for toddlers, teaching a class, being on basketball duty for the kids, preparing two classes and attending our shul Chanukah concert. But my prehypertension is making me tense.

Still: They can take away the “young” from me, but they can’t rob me of “dynamic.” I wonder whether any shuls look for "old and dynamic rabbis."

The Agunah Crisis: The role of the creative community rabbi

A couple of weeks ago, A Living Nadneyda posted the following comment on my post about Noachide weddings:
Several modern dilemmas of halacha have been waiting eons for creativity to help us save our own society (I am thinking especially of msuravot get). The same level of creativity called upon to unite the Noachides, could be harvested to disband a suffering union.

ALN’s words made me realize that there is a disconnect between the experience of many community rabbis and the perception of the broader Jewish community, regarding the issue of msuravei get (people whose spouses refuse to cooperate with divorce) and agunot (women whose husbands have disappeared).

To put it simply: Community rabbis see the many, many cases in which they successfully arrange for gittin or otherwise free spouses, despite very difficult circumstances. The public, though, only sees the headline cases, in which the rabbis fail.

Clearly, even one case of a woman – or man – who is unable to be divorced is too many. We can never be satisfied with our successes. However, I wish people knew how much sweat and creativity our community rabbis do currently put into enabling gittin, and how successful many of us are in doing so.

I am glad to say that I have not had more than 20-25 divorce cases in my career thusfar, but some of those have been doozies:

I have had cases in which a wife has adamantly refused to receive a Get, in order to hurt her husband or in order to get a better financial settlement. I never want to go the heter meah rabbonim route, so I have had to find ways to make the wife comfortable with receiving a Get.

I have had cases of husbands who have refused to give a Get. It’s usually a financial issue, but there are ways to deal with that – most often by holding the petur (document licensing re-marriage) in escrow until the financial package works out in the civil courts, or by using social pressure. I have also raised money to make the Get possible.

In one memorable case I called the stubborn husband’s 80-year-old mother in Israel at 2 AM her time, to let her know what her son was doing. Fifteen minutes later he was on the phone with me, agreeing to give the Get.

For the more recalcitrant cases, and for cases of agunah where the husband was incompetent to present a get, legitimate halachic authorities use other approaches, including finding reasons to disqualify the original marriage.

My experience is not unique; I know there are many rabbis in my shoes across the United States (I ma not as familiar with the international scene), doing the same things I am doing, every day.

There will always be people who will argue that rabbis possess, and should use, the power to change the rules altogether. Feel free to tell me that rabbis aren’t using the legislative authority assigned to us by the Torah; I disagree, but I know what you mean. But do realize that we are trying hard, within the parameters we understand to be the halachah, to set the agunot and mesuravot get free.

And please, please, use the halachic pre-nuptial agreement endorsed by the Rabbinical Council of America. It’s quick and easy, and if everyone would use it, it would save lives.

My Noachide Wedding

Many Rabbis love doing “unusual” things, the activities that don’t fit people’s normal expectations of the rabbinic lifestyle. Rabbis up on telephone poles (securing Eruv attachments), rabbis touring far corners of Asia or standing inside large pipes (investigating kosher certifications), Rabbis certifying kosher caskets, that sort of thing.

I’ve definitely had my share of unusual circumstances, but last Wednesday offered pretty strong competition for the Unusual title: A Noachide wedding.

It started a few months ago, when I received an email from a local man and woman who explained that they are not Jewish, but they are not affiliated with any other religion either, and they believe in the Bible and the Noachide laws (not to kill, not to steal, etc). They wanted to get married, and wanted a wedding which would be more spiritual than one performed by a secular officiant – so, could I perform a ceremony for them?

My first thought was, "Wow, that would be cool."

My second thought was that I couldn’t do this for legal reasons; the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania recognizes my ability to conduct a Jewish marriage, but could I really just officiate at any wedding, even a secular one?

My third thought was that I wouldn’t know what ritual to use. I wouldn’t want to use Jewish ritual – they are not Jewish, and are under no illusions on that matter. So what would I do?

On the other hand: Come on, how cool is that, getting to do a Noachide wedding?

So I emailed colleagues, who clarified that a rabbi is empowered to perform any wedding which conforms with municipal law, but who had no idea what ritual to use. I Googled “Noachide Weddings” and "Noahide Weddings" and came up with this page, but the contents made me uncomfortable; I really didn’t like their adaptation of key Jewish wedding elements – the berachah on wine, the ketubah, the Chuppah canopy.

But some colleagues of mine urged me on, pointing out that it’s pretty rare for an Orthodox rabbi to have a chance to get really creative!

Then, as I talked to the couple more and met with them, they were so visibly sincere that I fell in love with the idea beyond the "adventure" level. It was a chance to help good people do a good thing, in a meaningful way. Isn't that why I'm a rabbi in the first place?

So I developed a ceremony which drew on biblical themes common for Jews and non-Jews, and meaningful for a wedding.

Here’s what we did:

1) They had found a non-denominational chapel in a park, and we used that space. As they stood together, I sang the traditional Jewish chuppah songs of Mi Adir and Mi Ban Siach.

2) I then presented a dvar torah on the Torah’s history of marriage, going back to Adam and Chavah. I explained the Adam I and Adam II narratives, using Ramban’s idea that one narrative is creation of the soul (unified) and the other is creation of the body (separate). I talked about why Adam and Chavah benefit from being of two separate bodies – the idea, expressed in various commentaries, that the man and woman complement each other with their strengths, and so accomplish things they could never accomplish as one unit.

3) They had wanted to give each other rings, and written their own declaration of love and faithfulness for the occasion, so they did that at this point. I had them say “Behold you are sanctified to me,” taking the first half of the Jewish formula and dropping the “according to the laws of Moses and Israel” segment.

4) They had wanted to have a toast with wine at this point, but I was uncomfortable because of halachic issues which are beyond the scope of this blog, and because of the adoption of a very Jewish wedding practice. So I decided to use water instead.

I explained the biblical significance of water, tracing it from the water present at Creation, through the punitive water of the flood rolling back Creation, through the water in which Jews drowned in Egypt, through the punitive water of Yam Suf, through water from a stone in the desert, etc. My point was the power embedded by Gd in this natural element.

We recited the berachah on water together (the berachah itself – “that all comes into existence at Gd’s command” – being very appropriate for the occasion), and drank.

5) To close the wedding I adapted a tefillah authored by Rabbi Yochanan, presented in Yerushalmi Berachot 4:1, to read as follows:

יהי רצון מלפניך רבונו של עולם שתשכן בבתינו אהבה ואחוה ושלום ורעות ותצליח סופינו אחרית ותקוה ותרבה גבולנו בחברים ותקנינו לב טוב וחברים טובים ונשיש בחלקנו ונשכים ונמצא ייחול לבבנו

May it by Your will, Master of the Universe, that You bring love and brotherhood and peace and friendship into our home, that You give us success and hope, that You broaden our boundaries with friends, that You establish for us a good heart and good friends, that You make us happy with our lot, and that we rise each day to find our hearts’ desire.

On the whole, it was a remarkable experience. I was moved by their sincerity, and by their respect for Torah and Jewish belief.

I’m glad I did it - not because it was unusual, but because it really was cool in a much deeper way.

[Note: Haveil Havalim is here!]

A Kosher Caskets Carnival?

I am glad to announce that the latest edition of the Kosher Cooking Carnival is now available here. Which, with the strange way my mind works, reminded me of one of those things you probably never thought about your rabbi doing: Casket Certification.

About two years ago I was approached by a local casket company, to certify their caskets as kosher. Although the request was logical enough - they wanted to be acceptable for the Orthodox/traditional Jewish market - it still struck me as funny.

My Vaad (LVKC) supervises a bottling company, a couple of supermarket bakeries, a Carvel and a Rita’s, Lang's Chocolates and many events at our local JCC, and over the years I’ve been here we’ve done a nursing home, a caterer, a pizza place and a few other businesses… but caskets? Nope, no experience there.

So I contacted knowledgeable authorities and found out what was involved, and trekked off to the coffin-builders. They were very pleasant, very open and willing to show me everything I asked, and then some. They offered to demonstrate the actual construction of caskets. In a warehouse so large it makes a Home Depot look like a studio apartment, I learned about glues and putties and what goes into them, about dowels, and about the different sizes and shapes and models of caskets (1H01, 1H02, 1H03, 1H04, 1H05, 1H0X) and what’s involved in attaching handles.

I even got a check for it afterwards, which was unexpected and unrequested but nice. I just thought I was helping them out.

Here's an interesting thing: I learned that they give “casket warranties,” which left me wondering about a few things, including whether an unsatisfied customer is required to return the casket … and how long the warranty is good.

On the whole, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to be asked to certify their products; after all, we have halachic requirements for caskets, so why shouldn’t there be certification? And it gave me a fundraising idea:

Perhaps our Vaad haKashrus should make some money by approaching other casket manufacturers (how many are there?) and offering to certify their products. It’s got to be an easier sell than food kashrut; 11% of the local Jewish population says they observe kashrut in their homes, but I’d bet a much higher percentage requests a kosher casket. For many, many American Jews, kosher burial is right up there with a Pesach Seder and Kol Nidrei.

And maybe we could branch out, too… I’m thinking of tachrichin (shrouds) kosher certification, matzeivah (headstone) kosher certification, little-stones-to-put-atop-the-matzeivah kosher certification, water-bottles-for-washing-outside-the-cemetery kosher certification… a whole new industry, indeed.

Think that’s a reach? Well, I’m out of time for blogging today, but remind me to tell you some time about the local branch of an Israeli company who approached me about certifying ornamental casket-inserts made of Israeli earth.

No, I’m not kidding.