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Rabbinic Reflections

The Challenges and Joys of Teaching Our Teenagers: Rabbi Josh Goldstein Reflects on 50 Years as a Reform Rabbi

Marking the fiftieth anniversary of my ordination, it’s a natural impulse to reflect on the most wonderful rabbinic moments I’ve experienced. Tuesday evenings are among my fondest memories.

Each Tuesday at 6:00 p.m., at the mid-sized synagogue I served for more than three decades, sixty to seventy post b’nei mitzvah students would arrive for their weekly two-hour dosage of Jewish learning. In my sections, we would take on some eclectic topics, from Masada to Maimonides to mixed marriage. I always felt that a great deal was at stake each week. I wanted each student to leave feeling some degree of Jewish inspiration. And I desperately tried to avoid the greatest sin of all—being boring.

I had an advantage. I could “talk the talk,” whether bantering about hoops, or movies, or rock music, or being a bit irreverent. I was also drawn to those students who felt like outsiders. So, over pizza dinners, I’d schmooze with everyone, lead Birkat Hamazon, and then engage in topics that were carefully chosen, not only to draw interest, but really to teach and discuss about the remarkable story of our people. We avoided using the word “confirmation” (too assimilated), and we declined teaching comparative religion (we wanted to spend those precious two hours on our own heritage). We never had the resources to take our teenagers to Israel each year, but I constantly talked up the joy of Camp Harlam summers, and soon, a semester or year in Israel.

I made a point of keeping in touch with our students after their high school graduations, and even surveyed them, years later, about the impact of Tuesday evenings on their Jewish identities. Warning them not to “kiss up” to me, I invariably was told: “Those evenings were a wonderful part of my Jewish growth. It was great to have dinner with friends, to be encouraged to share thoughts, and to develop a greater appreciation of my Jewish story.”

These days, in semi-retirement, my challenges are on another level: Sally has dementia, and I’m now a caregiver for my wonderful wife of fifty-three years.  I am supported in many ways, especially by the deep friendships of my colleagues in NAORRR. And I feel bolstered, as well, by the memory of Tuesday evenings with our teenagers. I remember them all—the jocks, the rebels, the conformists. I loved them all. It was profoundly challenging to try to inspire them Jewishly. Sometimes I succeeded. But the challenge was a deeply meaningful part of my life. I miss it more than anything else I ever did as a rabbi.

Josh Goldstein is Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Sha’arey Shalom, in Springfield, New Jersey, and founding rabbi of the Chai Center for Jewish Life in Watchung, New Jersey. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Paul Golomb’s 50 Years as a Reform Rabbi: Establishing a Camp, Editing the ‘Reform Jewish Quarterly’ and Much More

There is an instructive comment in the Talmud that one should not profit materially from imparting Torah. Torah was given freely by the Eternal, and therefore one cannot charge for what was given at no cost. Hence, we rabbis cannot be paid to be teachers of Torah! If that is the case, then what are rabbis paid for?

In my forty years as an active rabbi, I found out. I had the opportunity to work in small, midsized, and large congregations, direct Hillel Foundations and a region of the URJ, and teach a number of university courses. My favorite story regarding how a rabbi earns a living arose when I spent a morning at the Hillel House at the University of Buffalo fixing a stubborn leak in one of the bathroom sinks. As I went outside to get some lunch, I bumped into a professor I knew who was walking his dog. We chatted a bit, then the professor commented, “I always have wanted to know just what a rabbi does.” At that point, all I could think of was some light plumbing.

There are numerous activities and events of those years for which I am proud—and quite a number I regret. Focusing on the positive, let me mention two particular highlights: 

As the URJ regional director in Canada in the late 1990s, I had a significant role in establishing Camp George in Ontario, culminating an effort that had been in place for over a decade. The need for a Reform Movement camp in Canada was reflected by having all its beds filled in that first summer of 1999. Further, it posted a first-year operating budget in the black. I had been a camper, counselor, and faculty member at Union camps since 1959. Almost nothing in all those experiences compare to getting a successful camp off the ground.

From 2013 to 2018, I had the honor of being the editor-in-chief of the Reform Jewish Quarterly. With the withdrawal to digital-only format or outright disappearance of many publications, the RJQ remains a critical outlet for modern liberal Jewish scholarship and expression. I am delighted to have had a part in producing and promoting so many thoughtful essays, poems, and reviews.

My fifty years as a rabbi (plus four as student at HUC-JIR) would have been greatly diminished without the love and care of my wife, Debbie. She has been my severest critic and my steadfast support. Any success I have had is at least in part due to her. Although she had a legal career as a litigator and mediator, she served—as do most rabbi spouses—as an unpaid employee of the congregation; a task that can be as socially and emotionally demanding as any profession. As I achieve honorary status in the CCAR, I extend all my honor and love to Deborah Grand Golomb.

 Rabbi Paul Golomb is senior scholar at Vassar Temple in Poughkeepsie, New York and is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Norman Roman on 50 Years of Fulfillment and Meaning as a Reform Rabbi

Spring of 2025—50 years since ordination in Cincinnati (and further memories of five previous years of HUC-JIR with student pulpits, and two and a half years of serving/training as “pre-rabbinic intern” at my home congregation in Cleveland). It has been an entire lifetime of identifying and finding fulfillment as a rabbi.

When asked why this was my chosen lifestyle, I inevitably respond that I never seriously considered doing anything else; teaching, working with youth, supporting those in need, being on the stage, helping the Jewish people, repairing the world, and wrestling with God. I knew that I could do all of them—praying that I would be successful in at least some of them—in the role known as rav. Gratefully, my mentors and family have all lovingly been with me on my journey.

I take great pride in knowing that I have had a positive influence on many people in the communities which I have served. I am humbled that many have overlooked or forgiven my faults and mistakes. I look back with fondness and approval at the number of my former students and campers who have chosen to devote their lives to Jewish professional life. B’kitzur, I have immense satisfaction and contentment in what I have accomplished. Ani samei-ach b’chelki.

From the pulpit, I have tried to instruct and interpret Torah. In the university classroom, I have tried to represent our tradition and history in such a way as to further interreligious respect and understanding; and (in the happiest experiences I have shared) working with NFTY teens in their leadership development, I have tried to be a role model and guide, while at the same time, relishing in the ruach that recharged my soul’s batteries.

What do I look forward to? Im yir’tzeh HaShem, I will continue to be a “part-time” rabbi to my community of seniors and retirees. And hopefully, being blessed with the strength, health, wisdom and love to be a better husband, father, father-in-law, and zayde.

Rabbi Norman Roman is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. He is Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Kol Ami in West Bloomfield, Michigan and also serves Beth Shalom Temple Center in Green Valley, Arizona. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Rabbinic Reflections

A Career of Great Depth and Dimension: Rabbi Benjamin Lefkowitz Reflects on 50 Years as a Reform Rabbi

As I look back on fifty years, I reflect on how my life has gone in two different directions, frequently simultaneously—pulpit and college teaching. As I have made my way through these years, I have kept in mind the advice of two treasured colleagues and teachers, now sadly both in the yeshivah shel maalah. One was to remember the beloved Jacob Rudin’s advice to me and my classmates to always find time and a way to study. The other, which at times could be understood as humor and at others in a far more serious vein, was our cherished Lenny Kravitz’ dictum, “If you don’t like Jews, don’t go into this business.”

There is the title of a book I will never write:  B’nai Mitzvah and Other Natural Disasters: My Life Throwing the Knuckleball from the Bimah. We find ourselves in pursuit of teaching and touching lives, with some great successes and yet other occasions where things don’t go as planned or hoped, or events when the saving grace was having a sense of humor and seeing it in the most unanticipated situations, like a Kol Nidrei where a senior colleague failed to check with the organist about the length of Bruch’s “Kol Nidrei”rhapsody, or a Kol Nidrei where a 10-year old burst into the sanctuary to proclaim how the home baseball team had been saved by a dramatic home run. 

We all know that there are times when uneasy lies the head that wears the crown—or the kippah and tallit. There are times when I found myself feeling as if I was in an episode of a series that could have been called Tales of the Unexpected—situations our education never taught us about or that we often felt would not happen to us. But those times of challenge were more than compensated for by the times of knowing that I had made a difference in someone’s life, sometimes in very unexpected ways. Three examples in brief: finding a way to reunite a guilt-ridden teenager with her parents; learning that a simple statement of reassurance to a college student had made all the difference to her in her studies; and when a simple sermon about the significance of nerot Shabbat led a woman to start lighting them again after many years of not having done so. The rewards remain so fulfilling—touching lives, and the relationships that now continue long after leaving the pulpit.

Nine years ago I retired from the pulpit and focused on college teaching—ironically, what I thought my goal would be when I entered college. At the time, several people asked me if I was still going to be a rabbi. My response was a reference to the exclamation by a Marine general in Korea when the Chinese came pouring in and the Marines had to move south. A reporter asked the general how it felt to be a Marine and retreating. Replied the general, “Retreat? Hell, we’re attacking in a new direction!” In other words, I was just “rabbi-ing” in a different direction, and on campus I frequently found myself both teacher and counselor.

All told, these years have been quite a ride, and I am eternally grateful for the friendship of colleagues and the love and support of my wife, Barbara, and our children, Amy and Daniel and their families, who have been on the ride with me. Let me close with some excerpts from Tennyson’s “Ulysses” (with fond thoughts for classmates sadly gone, along with a heartfelt d’rishat shalom and y’yishar kochachem to those still here):

“I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone…
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
Forever and forever when I move….
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts…strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”

Rabbi Benjamin Lefkowitz is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Books CCAR Press

Author Interview with Rabbi Mary L. Zamore: ‘The Sacred Table: Creating a Jewish Food Ethic’

Rabbi Mary L. Zamore is the editor of The Sacred Table: Creating a Jewish Food Ethic from CCAR Press. In this interview, she shares the lessons the volume teaches us as we look forward to celebrating Tu BiSh’vat.

What inspired you to edit The Sacred Table: Creating a Jewish Food Ethic?

The Sacred Table was the result of my deep involvement in the modern Jewish food movement, which included my serving a mashgichah, a supervisor for a kosher bakery. I also was part of a thought leadership group assembled by the CCAR to examine for the Reform Movement the role of ethics, traditional Jewish teachings, spirituality, and other dietary practices. The Sacred Table was my answer— an anthology to provide the material for educated choices.

Was there something new you learned while working on this project?

The fun part of editing an anthology is that you can assemble your dream team of scholars and experts. The knowledge and points of view far exceed what any one author can offer. Every author expanded my learning and passion for the topic.

What lessons does The Sacred Table teach as we look forward to celebrating Tu BiSh’vat?

When people think of Jewish dietary practices, they usually focus on keeping kosher. Jewish ritual practices are only a fraction of the rich spectrum of food related teachings. The modern observance of Tu BiSh’vat draws our attention to our relationship to the earth. The Sacred Table challenges individuals and communities to consider the impact of our food choices on the environment.

The Sacred Table was published in 2011. Does the book speak differently to us today?

I feel The Sacred Table has only become more relevant with every year, as the human relationship with food and its production has become more broken. The book provides approachable chapters, including shorter narratives, to explore ritual, spirituality, and Jewish teachings on the treatment of workers, animals, the environment, feeding the hungry, and personal health. It creates a beautiful opportunity to learn from Jewish tradition and adapt these teachings to our modern tables.

Rabbi Mary L. Zamore is the executive director of the Women’s Rabbinic Network. She is the editor of The Sacred Table: Creating a Jewish Food Ethic and The Sacred Exchange: Creating a Jewish Money Ethic, both published by CCAR Press.

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Rabbinic Innovation Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik’s Rabbinic Innovation: Marrying Art, Pop Culture, and Torah

The Central Conference of American Rabbis, Reform Judaism’s rabbinic professional leadership organization, is home to more than 2,000 Reform rabbis across North America and beyond. And while Reform rabbis wear many hats, often at the same time—Torah scholar, officiant, pastoral counselor, chaplain, educator, organizational leader, activist—they also serve in a wider range of settings, changing the shape of the sacred work of the rabbinate with innovative new visions for Jewish communal life.

We’re proud to share the stories of CCAR members who are taking our ancient Jewish traditions and imaginatively and courageously building new programs, practices, collaborations, communities, and transformational approaches to Reform Judaism. We’re also sharing how, even in dark times, so many CCAR members find joy as rabbis, and we share their hopes for the future of the Reform rabbinate and Reform Judaism.

Book photo

Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik, along with her artist husband Isaac, created Paper Midrash, a Jewish scholar- and artist-in-residence program based in Southern California. Here, she shares her innovative rabbinate, which involves traveling the country to teach Torah by blending text study with art.

How do you describe your rabbinate? What makes it unique?
I work with my husband Isaac, an artist, to develop scholar- and artist-in-residence programs, which we bring to Jewish communities across the United States. We call it Paper Midrash because our flagship program is “Torah Study with Knives,” where we study Torah with a group and then teach them how to design and create their own papercut midrash artwork. It’s sophisticated text study through a unique art practice: I bring the Torah, and my husband brings the art. Our goal is to use art as a pathway to deeper understanding of Torah. I believe that Torah and Jewish values are all around us, and we use pop culture and art to help people recognize them.

How did you create this innovative program?
We started Paper Midrash almost accidentally. My husband and I have been teaching together since we were Hebrew school teachers together in college, and we have spent the last sixteen years teaching together at URJ Camp Newman. Rabbi friends would invite us to teach and create with their communities, and around 2016 we realized that the conversations we were having with each other about Torah and art and Judaism and pop culture were conversations that other people wanted to be involved in. We genuinely love making connections between modern life and Torah and arguing about nuance in storytelling. I think people respond to that authenticity; we often joke that we have the same conversations at our dinner table.

Being married to an artist has changed the way I think about art and creativity. Together we’ve tried to create new pathways into Torah for people who haven’t had the opportunity to create art as adults or to engage in midrash as a creative process. I’d like to think that we use art to lower the barrier to Jewish text.

How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career?
I never thought art would become such a big part of my rabbinate, but I’ve always had an unconventional rabbinic career. I started out working part-time at a synagogue, and then I worked as an associate rabbi at Temple Ahavat Shalom in Southern California for fourteen years. One of my first jobs was teaching adult Torah study; working with that group really taught me how to teach adults. Working part-time allowed me to spend time with my three children while they were growing up and allowed me to work at a number of different rabbinic jobs over the years. In the last twenty-two years I have also worked as an interim education director; I was the site director at Camp Newman while camp was recovering from the fire; I’ve taught in the school of education at HUC-JIR; served as rabbi for the HUC-LA Synagogue, filling in for rabbis on sabbatical; I’ve contributed to a book about Tot Shabbat and, of course, performing—I’ve performed countless life cycle ceremonies. 

In 2016, we found ourselves collaborating more on the intersection of Jewish text and Isaac’s art practice, so we seized the opportunity to create something new that we could do together. We started by expanding our work with high school students to adults and creating a few “one-off” classes and workshops that we took to friends’ congregations and to Limmud UK. In 2017, we realized we had enough programming for an entire scholar- and artist-in-residence weekend, and we founded Paper Midrash. We’ve been bringing our work to communities ever since.

What is your rabbinic motto or words that guide your rabbinate?
Creating midrash is a way to participate in a two-thousand-year-old conversation with Jewish text. Connecting our ancient and modern stories is how we explore what it means to be human; everyone can find a connection between their life and Torah.

I don’t think of myself as an artist, but you don’t have to be an artist to explore text through art. The Torah begins with God’s creativity, and I believe that tapping into our own creativity is another way to access the Divine within us all.

What do people find unique, unusual, or surprising about your rabbinate?
When I travel to teach at different synagogues, people always ask, “But where are you a rabbi when you’re not doing this?” And I always answer, “This is where I am a rabbi; this is what I do.” So many people still expect a rabbi to be with a congregation, at a pulpit, attached to a specific community. The idea that this is my rabbinate, in so many different congregations throughout the year, continues to surprise people.

What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate?
I am always inspired when people find themselves in Torah. Creating art requires a level of vulnerability. It is rewarding to be there when someone sees their story in the words that our people have studied for so long—when Torah is so present that it’s like a mirror to their experience—and they are able to communicate that in the art they create and share with others. It is deeply satisfying when people find a new way to experience Judaism.

What brings you joy in your rabbinate?
I’ve always loved studying with people. Not just in the moment, but everything leading up to it: preparation, scouring sources and getting lost in the text, following random tangents. I really love trying to make sense of texts both ancient and modern, and then sharing it with others who are looking for their own answers to questions that we have been asking ourselves for thousands of years. In my rabbinate, I get to do this with people in the communities they belong to, and to teach and learn from so many people.

What makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of rabbinate?
I’m fortunate to be able to visit many Reform Jewish communities each year; seeing how dedicated my colleagues are to their synagogues and how vibrant those communities are always gives me hope. I am amazed at my colleagues’ creativity and how they tap into the unique needs of their synagogues. There are some amazing things happening in Reform synagogues of all sizes.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Joel Schwartzman’s Lessons Learned during 50 Years as a Reform Rabbi

I can think of few less compelling subjects than recalling, examining, and documenting my fifty-year rabbinic career. That my wife, Ziva, and I spent twenty-three and a half years in the United States Air Force and another ten years serving three very differing congregations probably would not inspire others to follow in our footsteps.

I belonged to a small rabbinic dynasty. My father, Dr. Rabbi Sylvan D. Schwartzman, z”l, used to teach a practical rabbinics course (“Ed 7”) at the Cincinnati campus of HUC-JIR. It involved techniques and insights that would enable a rabbi to not only to survive but to prosper in congregational life. He offered information on parsonage and other financial subjects.

I have thought that imparting some of my own derived lessons would be of greater interest than explaining my approach to the rabbinate, which I will say centered around building community, deeply immersed in the practice of Jewish life and the study of Torah, offering a fierce defense of Israel, and celebrating involvement in klal Yisrael. Practically speaking, then, here is my list of learned and now suggested pointers for congregational rabbis:

  1. Be deliberate about who may serve on the temple board. Accepting volunteers is unwise. Prospective board members need to be vetted and trained in various aspects of board service. Taking just anyone very often winds up creating problems.
  2. Be deliberate about the board’s evaluation of the rabbi. That which doesn’t move the congregation forward is not germane and ought not be permitted.  The process can become a grab bag of complaints and negative observations that only serve to undermine the rabbi’s position and places negative, resentful thoughts in the rabbi’s head. Taking a firm stand on this process is a self and congregational preserving necessity.
  3. Mutually protecting and honoring each other is a critical part of the relationship between the congregational president and the rabbi. If the president doesn’t support the rabbi publicly, it may well be time to consider entering placement. Operating in a hostile environment threatens a rabbi’s role and exacerbates problems all around. 
  4. Document! Documenting when synagogue employees fall down on the job or when a situation seems volatile is just good self-protective policy. Details that aren’t recorded often become vague and cloudy. Better to make notes at the time of the incident rather than to depend upon memory.
  5. Exercising daily is important for one’s mental and physical health. It is a great stress reliever and also offers time for reflection. I believe that physical activity need not be overly strenuous, but it does result in a healthier lifestyle.
  6. Never take your frustrations into your sermons. They will only serve to come back to undermine and bite you. Speak positively in public and be mindful of your goals for the congregation and community.
  7. Do not be reluctant to find more experienced colleagues who may provide a good sounding board, solid advice, and supportive counsel. A good shoulder to lean on and, perhaps, even study with can be a God-sent. In lieu of, but part of this package, maybe a therapist who has some understanding of clergy life, its vagaries and challenges.

There are myriad other areas and approaches that an essay like this could cover. But one final observation may be the most valuable. In my experience, it is that the rabbis who genuinely care for their congregants, and go the extra mile to demonstrate that care, who are the ones who best succeed in the rabbinate. These individuals also practice self-care, not allowing themselves to fall victim to exhaustion (because there are always pop-up exigencies that will require attention and energy). The true mensches in our profession are more often than not the ones whose rabbinates become shining examples.

Some of us are better programmers than others. Some have other strengths. We each try to serve the Jewish people and it is hopefully our legacy that we shall have sustained and nurtured Jewish life in significant and satisfying ways. It is my wish that through my service to our people I have gained some wisdom that, through these words, will enhance and enlighten your path as well.

Rabbi Joel Schwartzman is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. He is Rabbi Emeritus of Congregation B’nai Chaim in Morrison, Colorado. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Enjoy the Journey: Rabbi Marc Rosenstein’s Varied, Interesting, and Satisfying 50 Years as a Reform Rabbi

My experience in the rabbinate reflects the fact that I was one of those people who never decided what they wanted to be when they grew up. I majored in biochemistry in college, but decided that Jews seemed more interesting than molecules, so I enrolled in HUC-JIR. I became frustrated with my studies there, so I took a year off to work in an environmental physiology lab in Beersheba, but came back to finish ordination. I had a wonderful three years as intern and assistant (and mentee) to Martin Rozenberg, but decided I wasn’t suited to the pulpit rabbinate, so moved on to spend ten years as a day school educator (teacher and principal). I had the opportunity to obtain a PhD at the Hebrew University as a Jerusalem Fellow—another wonderful experience with two important mentors, Professors Seymour Fox and Immanuel Etkes—but decided that academia was not for me. And after we made aliyah, my fourth life-shaping mentor, Rabbi Bob Samuels, tried to draw me into the team at Leo Baeck School, but I felt that the Israeli educational bureaucracy was too much for me. 

Meanwhile, thirty-five years ago, we settled in Moshav Shorashim in the Galilee, where I continued my zigzag career, including creating a Jewish-Palestinian youth circus; facilitating hundreds of encounters between diaspora Jews and Palestinian Israelis; developing educational tourism programs in the Galilee; but also, consulting for the Melton and Mandel Institutes, and six satisfying years as director of the Israel Rabbinic Program at HUC-JIR. And since retiring, I’ve had the chance to pursue the other interests I never had time for: carpentry (a highlight was a Sephardic Torah case for our synagogue, made of maple and walnut); and writing (Turning Points in Jewish History and Contested Utopia have been published by JPS); and last year I went back to blogging on the Times of Israel site. And most recently, I’ve learned welding, which is great fun.

A kind of strange, unsettled rabbinate; varied, interesting, and most days, satisfying. But I suppose it suffered somewhat from the syndrome of “jack of all trades, master of none.” Whatever. Still, I like to think that through the various students I taught, encounters I facilitated, words I wrote, and institutions I led, I did manage to teach some Torah, and to model that Torah as I performed those tasks. 

In one year’s b’rachah for the ordinees at HUC-JIR in Jerusalem, I remember advising them to never mind the destination, what is important is to enjoy the journey, and never stop looking out the window. 

So, what have I learned? That it’s time to give up on trying to figure out what I should be when I grow up.

 Rabbi Marc Rosenstein is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis when we come together at CCAR Convention 2025.

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Books CCAR Press

Creating a Nuanced Biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler, Who Shaped Today’s Reform Judaism

Michael A. Meyer is the author of Above All, We Are Jews: A Biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler, now available from CCAR Press. In this excerpt from the preface, he highlights the life and legacy of one of Reform Judaism’s most impactful leaders.

Rabbi Alexander Moshe Schindler (1925–2000) was a central figure within American Judaism whose significance has yet to be fully understood. His successor as president of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (UAHC, now called Union for Reform Judaism, or URJ), Rabbi Eric Yoffie, believes he was the “last great national leader of American Jewry.”1 His good friend for many years but frequent political adversary, Henry Kissinger, called him “a preeminent figure of conscience and leadership, not only within the American Jewish community, but for all concerned with human issues around the globe.”2

It was Alexander Schindler who brought Reform Judaism to the height of its influence. Within a favorable American environment, his charisma and vision allowed it to grow to its maximum size and energy. Whereas other well-known Reform Jews of the twentieth century, such as Rabbis Stephen Wise and Abba Hillel Silver, gained their fame on account of their Zionist advocacy, Schindler’s reputation rests in large measure upon his activism within the congregational union of Reform Judaism.

With passion and effect, he brought into existence an institutional structure that reached out to Jews on the periphery of Jewish life and welcomed them into the religious community. Unafraid of lively debate—indeed nourishing it—he recognized that the unprecedented increase in interfaith marriages demanded acceptance of the intermarried rather than rejection if Jewish life within an enticing American society were to flourish. Although more traditional Jews objected vociferously, he advocated acceptance of patrilineal descent as a marker of Jewishness so that children whose fathers alone were Jewish would not be lost to the faith. Though with less success, he likewise sought to strengthen the Jewish community with an influx of non-Jews coming from outside its sphere, who would be drawn to its faith and customs.

Schindler was a highly controversial figure not only with regard to the institutional changes he advocated within Reform Judaism but also with regard to his independent stand in relation to the policies of Israel. He was the first Reform leader to also be a principal leader of American Jewry as a whole. Elected as a Reform rabbi to chair the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations in 1976, he was widely respected across the religious spectrum. When, during Schindler’s term as chair, Menachem Begin was elected prime minister of Israel, Schindler was able—against all expectations—to bridge the gap between a liberal American Jewry and a prime minister whose views on the State of Israel lay far to the right. Schindler’s own opinions on Israel combined a deeply felt Zionism with a willingness to discard a tradition that American Jews should always blindly accept current Israeli policies. He saw the Diaspora as having an ineluctable responsibility to share in shaping the Israeli future.

He was a talented and effective speaker, listened to by his rabbinical colleagues, by the Reform laity, and by government officials in the United States and Israel. By conviction and practice a Reform Jew and critical of Orthodox rigidity, he nonetheless regarded other forms of Judaism with due respect. He defined himself and wanted to be remembered as an ohev Yisrael, a lover of the Jewish people in its totality.

Unafraid of espousing causes unpopular among many American Jews and non-Jews, Schindler spoke out for LGBTQ rights, full racial equality, and a clear separation of church and state. He had close connections with a range of key civil rights leaders, including Jesse Jackson, Andrew Young, Roy Wilkins, and Bayard Rustin. Never cowed into suppressing his opinions, he dealt forcefully with American presidents and legislators.

Yet, despite these markers of significance, to this day there is no published Schindler biography.3 I have given voice not only to Schindler’s admirers but also to those who were critical of him or his policies. Here and there I have also included my own critical remarks. Like all significant figures, Schindler had professional and personal shortcomings. Despite my respect for him as a person and a leader, I have sought to achieve a balanced account. It is my hope that these pages will enable future generations to better judge and appreciate Rabbi Schindler’s place in Jewish history.

Notes

1. Conversation with Rabbi Eric Yoffie on November 27, 2022.

2. Henry A. Kissinger, “A Tribute,” in The Jewish Condition: Essays on Contemporary Judaism Honoring Rabbi Alexander M. Schindler, ed. Aron Hirt-Manheimer (New York: UAHC Press, 1995), ix.

3. There are, however, at the Klau Library of Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati two unpublished rabbinical theses that deal with aspects of Schindler’s career: Karen Companez, “Rabbi Alexander M. Schindler: A Thematic Biography” (2002) and Lynne Goldsmith, “Bridge to the Future: Alexander Schindler and His Influence on the Development of Reform Judaism’s Outreach Program” (2007).

Michael A. Meyer holds a doctorate in Jewish history from Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati, where he served as professor of Jewish history for fifty years. He is the author of Above All, We Are Jews: A Biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler from CCAR Press.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Fred Guttman on the Blessing of an Influential and Inspirational Rabbi

Recently, we have begun an effort to really downsize our “stuff.” In this context, I was going through a file that belonged to my mother, of blessed memory. Looking in the file, I found my tenth grade confirmation speech from 1968. Reading it, I was struck by just how much I owed “My Rabbi.”

Let me explain.

I really cannot say that I liked going to religious school all that much. As a matter of fact, I frequently got in trouble!

There was one thing that I really did enjoy and that was singing in the junior choir.

By the time I was in the eighth grade, I was already playing piano in a garage band. I wasn’t great, but I was good enough.

One day, the director of our junior choir was late arriving. So, I told people to take out a sheet that had on it the words of “Adon Olam.”  I then told them that they should sing with me. I started to play the “House of Rising Sun” by the Animals. Before long, I had the entire choir gloriously singing “Adon Olam” to the melody of “House of the Rising Sun.”

After a while, the choir director came in and was very much distressed. He asked me whether or not I knew what this song was really about.

I answered that I did not but that I liked the music. He then said “You need to go talk to the rabbi.”

I walked into “My Rabbi”’s office and told him what had occurred. He smiled, and we sat down at the table. He pulled out a Jewish text; I do not remember what it was. We studied for a little bit, and then I was sent back.

Before I left, he told me that he thought what I did was rather creative and said, “You just might grow up to be a Jewish educator.” Frankly, at that time, this was the farthest thing from my mind.

Two years later during the confirmation class, I came to “My Rabbi” and told him I had a very interesting idea for confirmation. The idea was that during the ceremony, the class would all sing “Turn, Turn, Turn” by the Byrds. I do not think that I knew at that time that the song was actually written by Pete Seeger.

His reaction really surprised me. He told me that he thought it was a great idea. I volunteered to accompany the class on piano. Then, however, he told me that the lyrics were not written by Pete Seeger, but traditionally were written thousands of years ago by King Solomon. The lyrics were to be found in a biblical book called Ecclesiastes.

“My Rabbi” then said to me that he liked my idea so much that every confirmation speech would take one line from the passage and discuss it. My line was “A time to plant.” I had no memory of this until I found my confirmation speech in my mother’s papers.

I went to college at Vanderbilt because I wanted to continue to play in the garage band. While there, I started taking courses in the religion department and the divinity school.

In my sophomore year, I came to “My Rabbi” with the idea that I would like to go on the year-abroad program at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. However, I told him that my father had recently closed his business and that without a significant scholarship, I could not afford to go.

He told me not to worry and harnessed the resources of others in the community, including the local Jewish Federation. As a result, I was able to go to Hebrew University for my junior year.

That year turned out to be one of the best years of my life. I fell in love with a beautiful girl who today is a beautiful woman. I have been with her now for fifty-two years. We have three children and five grandchildren.

How different my life could have been had I not gone that year or had I not been able to afford to go that year. All of this happened thanks to “My Rabbi.”

When I returned, I told “My Rabbi” that but I was thinking about applying to HUC-JIR. He told me at the time that it was interesting because there was an official from HUC who was going to be visiting Nashville and that I should meet him. I was more than open to this.

I sat down for an hour with this official who was also a rabbi. We had what I thought was a nice conversation. I found out later that he told “My Rabbi” that he did not think that I would be suitable for the rabbinate.

Nevertheless, “My Rabbi” encouraged me to apply, which I did, and in 1979, I was ordained in the New York school. Five days later, my wife and I moved to Israel, and we stayed there for eleven years. While in Israel, I had the privilege of working for Rabbis Hank Skirball, David Forman, and Morrie Kippur. These men, like “My Rabbi,” had a profound influence upon my life.

I have now been retired for three-and-a-half years. I have had an amazing career. I have been involved in a lot of pro-Israel work and in various social justice activities.

By the way, I think it was the example of “My Rabbi” that encouraged me to become active in the North Carolina social justice movement known as “Moral Monday.” Other issues that I dealt with in North Carolina involved voting rights and LGBTQ issues. I really do feel that it was “My Rabbi” who served an example for these activities.

I think that we all should be as blessed as I was to have had such an influential rabbi in our lives.

Many years later, I showed my mother a rubbing of a tombstone from the 1880s from the Warsaw Jewish cemetery. The stone depicted broken Shabbat candles. My mom told me that that would be what she wanted on her tombstone.

“My Rabbi” died in 2014. His widow was friendly with my mom. My mom suggested that there be a carving like the ones from Warsaw on his tombstone and she asked me what it should be. I answered that it should be “books” because he was such a learned man.

Mom died in 2020 just before the epidemic.

If one goes to the Temple cemetery in Nashville, one will find two tombstones with designs on them, designs that go back to the 1880s in the Warsaw Jewish cemetery. The two tombstones are my mom’s and “My Rabbi’s.”

So, who is this person? Who was “My Rabbi”?

His name was Rabbi Randall Falk. I owe so much to him!

I share this story partially in tribute to Randy Falk, but more than that, I share it as an example of the enormous role that we rabbis have to play in educating young people and encouraging them to consider the rabbinate.

While I was not the first student of Randy Falk’s to become a rabbi, I was the first person to be ordained from Temple Ohabai Shalom in Nashville, Tennessee.

I do not know if I have been successful in being a rabbinic role model for younger people. I do know that I tried my best, and hope that along the way, I have influenced my students to become good Jews and purveyors of the Jewish tradition.

Thanks to “My Rabbi,” Rabbi Randall Falk.

Y’hi Zichro Baruch!

Rabbi Fred Guttman served Temple Emanuel of Greensboro, North Carolina for 26 years. He is now the Rabbi Emeritus of the congregation.