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.
Rabbi Darren Levine is a New York-based Reform rabbi ordained in 2003. He served in congregations in New York, South Africa, he worked at URJ camps, and he even served in the US Army as a chaplain. But in 2011, he envisioned a new way for Jews to gather in an urban setting, and Tamid: The Downtown Synagogue was born in New York City. Here, Rabbi Levine explains how “church planting” and camp magic helped him create his unique congregation, which calls the oldest church in New York City home.
How do you describe your rabbinate? My rabbinate is modern and progressive with a twist of classical Reform ideology and practice.
What is the rabbinic motto that guides your rabbinate? Jewish connections, one person at a time, makes the world a better place.
How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career? I grew up at a Reform Synagogue in Southern California and spent fifteen years at Jewish summer camps. I thought I would become a camp director: I loved the camp magic. During seminary, I came to appreciate the range of ages and life-cycle support of the synagogue which spoke to me and still does. But the camp magic never left my soul. I think Tamid has the camp magic in a multigenerational urban setting.
What role has innovation played in your rabbinate? A decade after 9/11, Lower Manhattan was rebuilding. My family lived downtown, and I saw the need for a spiritual community that reflected the local vibe: progressive, creative, artistic, musical, positive, non-judgmental, open, and very Jewish.
When I started a new synagogue in New York City, there were no models for rabbis starting congregations. But there is a wealth of knowledge and expertise in the Christian world. I read every book I could find on “Church Planting” and went to a few church planting conferences. The experiences were very impactful.
We’ve grown into a legacy community for New York City and Westchester County. Our goal today is the same goal we’ve had since the beginning: After a person experiences a Tamid gathering, class, celebration, ceremony, phone call, email, or social media view and they say, “I’d like to have more of that in my life,” we’ve achieved our goal. This feeling is how Jews are inspired and how authentic, long-term, and committed relationships are built and nourished, one person at a time. If you have this, everything else works out beautifully for the person and the community.
Tamid is the resident synagogue of St. Paul’s Chapel, the oldest house of worship in New York City. George Washington prayed here on the day of his presidential inauguration. It’s an honor and a responsibility we feel to Judaism and to America to be here.
What do people find unusual or surprising about your rabbinate? I still surf, ride skateboards, and can dunk a basketball.
What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate? The multi-year and multi-generational bonds of relationships with community members and colleagues.
What brings you joy in your rabbinate? The smiles on the faces of people in the chapel, swaying to the music, and feeling lifted in their spirit and soul.
What excites you or makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of your rabbinate? The most quality people I have ever known are clergy.
The 136th annual Convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis was held March 23-26, 2025, in downtown Chicago, where over 450 Reform rabbis gathered in person and online. Here, we share CCAR Chief Executive Rabbi Hara Person’s moving address acknowledging the incredible work of Reform rabbis, the blessing of leading the Jewish people, and the importance of finding clarity and purpose in these challenging times.
Watch the video, or read the address below.
Welcome to the first ever CCAR Asefah! After decades of calling this the CCAR Business Session, this is now the Asefah. Why? Because we listened to colleagues, who told us that the term “business session” didn’t properly convey what we did here. As The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon reminds us, the root asaf is related to gathering, to being gathered, and to harvesting. And indeed, more than just “business,” this session is our annual gathering—the annual harvesting of the work of the CCAR.
This week’s parashah, P’kudei, coincidentally the same Convention parashah as last year’s, speaks about the whole and the parts. There is the mishkan, that miraculous construction of artistry and faith, made up so very many parts. And there are the sacred vestments, also made up of different parts: the breastpiece with its stones representing the totality of Israel, the rings of gold, and the chains, and the cords, and the ephod.
The CCAR too is made up of the whole and parts. I’ve found it interesting to hear people talk about the CCAR as some abstract, amorphous organism that operates on its own free will. Actually, the CCAR is you, and me, the board, and the amazing staff we have in this room and elsewhere. We are all part of how and why the CCAR operates. You, the members, give us, the staff, our purpose and reason to exist, and I hope that the staff and I give you tools and resources to achieve your purpose, along with the chevrah and sense of community that strengthens you to do your sacred work. We, together, are the CCAR.
Of course the work of the CCAR is not just the staff, but also the board, and all the many, many volunteers who give their time and ideas to keep all the work going, and all of you who support the work of the CCAR in so many, many ways. Thank you to all the chairs and members, too many to mention, and forgive me for not mentioning every name, or we’d be here all day—thank you to all of you who roll up your sleeves and do the work of our committees and task forces and working groups, thank you to all who give what you can of your resources, your time, your ideas—you are the engine that drives the CCAR. Thank you to the board, both the outgoing and the incoming, whose level of commitment and partnership is so extraordinarily high.
And two exceptional people. Rabbi Erica Asch: I don’t think she realized what she was getting into when she became president, but wow did she jump in with both feet. I am going to miss you so much, but luckily you’re still on the board for two more years as our immediate past president. In these two years of her presidency, we have been through so much together—some of the usual work of the board, and some highly unusual. In this time, Rabbi Erica has become a trusted friend and advisor. I have learned so much from her and have tremendous admiration for how she approaches problem-solving and thinks through the hard stuff with clarity and integrity. Thank you, thank you.
And Rabbi David Lyon, I’m so very excited to be working closely with you the next two years. There’s a lot to do, and I am glad that we’ll be doing it together. If these last few weeks, even these last few days, are any indication, I know we’re going to learn a lot together, do important work for the CCAR, challenge each other in all the best ways, and have fun doing it. Thank you for stepping up, and thanks in advance for all the ways I’m going to grow under your leadership, and the CCAR is going to grow.
Like the biblical mishkan, the CCAR is complex, and multifaceted, made of many parts, and many people each playing their important part, each bringing the best that is in them to make a strong and beautiful whole. So it is for each beautiful element of the mishkan and of the sacred vestments—each one of those dazzling fabrics and stones serves a purpose and matters—and so it is for us as rabbis. What you do matters, and I want to thank you for all the ways you carry your individual leadership. Teaching Torah, leading prayer, bringing comfort, opening doors, moving chairs, raising money, writing, protesting, managing budgets, committee work, coalition building—the elevated and the quotidian—it is not all glamorous, but it is important and necessary. In the words of Marge Piercy [i]:
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart, who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience, who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward, who do what has to be done, again and again.
Thank you for everything you do as rabbis, in all the ways you do it, the work of mala and mata.
There is a flip side though to all of that breathtaking beauty of the mishkan and the priestly garments described in this parashah. Those vestments must have been quite a load to bear. I’m imagining the weight of the layers of linen, the gold, and all the stones, the ruby and the emerald and the turquoise, all of those bright and beautiful but substantial stones on the priests’ shoulders and backs, weighing them down with responsibility and mission.
As the inheritors of these communal leadership roles, we continue to carry the load of these sacred garments. It has been quite a few years of extremely heavy burdens on us. We thought things were challenging before. And suddenly the landscape is even tougher.
If these vestments of leadership imbue us with strength and power, to what end? Do these vestments transmit awe and authority, or might they sometimes also become a form of constraints, keeping us always conscious of the role we play vis-à-vis those we serve? These vestments may identify us as the bearer of special status and power, but they can also be bindings that restrict us.
In an uncertain and ever-roiling world, it’s so important that we articulate our own clarity of purpose. Where do we remain quiet for the sake of sh’lom bayit within our community, or even within our homes, and where do we speak out? On what are we willing to take a risk? Where do the stakes feel so high that we must speak out, even if there are consequences, and where are stakes so high that we cannot speak out?
We rabbis are teachers, preachers, healers, pastors, thought leaders, organizational leaders, strategists, innovators, challengers of the status quo. The responsibility of leadership that we carry can be a burden, but it doesn’t have to be so heavy if we can identify our mission. That sense of purpose can guide us and give us strength, remind us where we’re trying to go and why.
Identifying a personal mission is a process of discernment that can be ongoing, but today, I want to share four elements of my mission at this moment with you.
First, I am here to serve you: to hear your needs and your ideas, to think about what you need today, and envision what you might need tomorrow. This often means pivoting as needs change—and, it does not always mean saying yes, but it does mean listening and considering.
What it does mean is hearing you, helping you out with challenges, me or others on the CCAR staff. It has meant figuring out immediate needs in times of natural disasters, global pandemics, and wars. It means, just as some examples, offering webinars on antisemitism, offering Shekels, our fundraising seminar, and a multi-session course on facilitating difficult conversations. It means starting a series for rabbis going into retirement or a support group for those coping with despair. It has meant working with our partner organizations to engage in the work we should be doing together—the URJ, the ACC, ARJE, and more. It means taking a group of rabbis to Israel every year to connect with our MARAM colleagues and to stay current with the reality on the ground.
Second, I am here to serve the future of the rabbinate. How can I be strategic about what we will need tomorrow? With whom should I be in conversation? What do we need to put in place today in order to be ready for tomorrow? How can we think practically to prepare for tomorrow, and how can we dream about what might be possible? That means policy changes in the office of career services, like a new policy requiring search committees to engage in anti-bias training, or in our admissions policy as we expand our CCAR ranks to include more rabbis ordained from other seminaries—many of whom are already serving Reform congregations—and creating a group to help with emeritus/successor challenges. It means working with the ACC to create the Small Congregation Clergy Collab to serve small congregations no longer being served by students, and working with the URJ to reimagine the Gold Book. It means expanding our Mishkan T’filah family of offerings to include a new Friday night service booklet and a Spanish supplementary version, both currently in the works. And it means going big and creating the Torah commentary for the 21st century, a project that is creative and generative and will be an incredible gift for the future.
Third, it means reconciling with our past in order to pave the way for a better tomorrow. That has meant creating an ethics department, accepting accountability for the past, engaging in the difficult, ongoing work on our ethics code and system, and continuing to update our system. It means recognizing the pain of our history in regard to the acceptance and inclusion of LGBTQ+ colleagues. It means being committed to apologizing for the past while also believing in an organization and a rabbinate that can continually learn and do better.
And ultimately, fourth, is about mustering courage and heeding the still, small voice within, pushing me to speak out for justice and our values. There is much in this broken world of ours that calls to me. Of those, I must discern, which I will speak out on publicly. Part of this role is knowing when to be quiet. But part of it is also deciding when to speak out.
I wasn’t always so concerned about the peril of speaking out, but today there can be real risks in speaking out—personally, professionally, organizationally. And, I may disappoint you, or I may anger you—either because we did speak out on something or because we did not. That is going to happen. We cannot do everything, say everything, respond to everything, nor should we.
In these challenging days I am buoyed by being in conversations with other faith groups and alliances, united in our concerns for the future of shared ideals and values. (Sidebar note: I want to apologize to the Canadians here—well, I want to apologize to you regardless, but right now this is going to sound very American-centric. And to the Israelis and Europeans, again, apologies.)
But that is far from the only issue we need to be concerned about. There is a long list: bringing the hostages home, supporting transpeople, protecting immigrants, the slashing of the federal workforce, ceasefire with Gaza, democracy itself, the climate, reproductive rights, the future of medical research, deporting people without due process, the rise in antisemitism, it is a shockingly long, and still incomplete, list.
What rises to the surface for me in this moment, not because it matters more, but because it is perhaps more stealthy in its danger, is the weaponization of antisemitism. I don’t have to tell you that we are seeing antisemitism come to the fore in ways previously unimaginable. Hate speech, defacement of Jewish property and institutions, threats of physical harm, actual violence. The list goes on. You know about the number of synagogues experiencing bomb threats, which even when thankfully false, creates an atmosphere of fear and intimidation. How many of you have had to deal with damage to property? How many of you have received threats to your personal safety or that of your families? And of course there is the very real harassment and threats of danger to Jewish students on college campuses.
Rabbi Jade Sank Ross is the author of To You I Call: Psalms Throughout Our Lives from CCAR Press. In this interview, she discusses encountering challenging aspects of psalms and how they can provide meaning during significant life moments.
What inspired you to write To You I Call? To You I Call grew out of my rabbinic capstone project, completed in 2018. What I love most about being a rabbi is making Judaism approachable for people who feel like they don’t know enough or don’t know where to begin. I want people to understand the richness of Jewish tradition, especially its texts, and to feel personally connected with it. As I began serving as a congregational rabbi, I was most often asked questions like: “Is there something I can say when I light a yahrzeit (memorial) candle?” “Is there something authentically Jewish I can say when I am sitting in the waiting room as my doctor reviews my test results?” “It’s the Shabbat after a deeply divisive election. How can I express my relief or despair in a way that is deeply rooted in Jewish tradition, but also responds to the events and emotions of my daily life?” For me, the psalms provided the answers to these questions.
What was the most challenging part of working on this book? As I worked on this book with the CCAR Press editorial committee, we arranged and rearranged the way that the psalms were organized many times. We reworded the section subjects and the language we used to refer to various moments over years. We assigned moments to psalms and psalms to moments, swapping them around again and again. Making decisions required making assumptions about those using this book, and that was a big challenge!
Additionally, the psalms sometimes contain problematic texts and metaphors that may not speak to us in the twenty-first century. These include, but are not limited to, descriptions of violence, vengeance against enemies, gendered language, and theologies that don’t resonate with our own (for example, Psalm 137:9: “Happy is the one who seizes your children and dashes them against the rock”). When this comes up for me, I often focus on just one or a few verses of a psalm. This approach alleviates tension and allows me to take what I need from the psalms while releasing the problematic texts. I always try to remember too that psalms are poetry, and almost all poetry is metaphor. The beauty of metaphors is that they can be redefined. Ultimately, I see this book as an invitation and a starting point. I hope that it can be a resource and a space to see the psalms as poetry, prayer, and song to inspire readers’ spiritual journeys.
Can you recall a time when a psalm spoke directly to a personal experience? Psalm 45, which I’ve assigned to the modern life-moment of “holding a child for the first time” (p. 135 in To You I Call), spoke to me on the occasion that my children were held by their great-grandmothers for the first time. My children are named in memory of their great-grandfathers, the deceased beloveds of their living great-grandmothers. I particularly love Rabbi Richard N. Levy’s translation (used in my book) of Psalm 45. It starts as “a song of love” and continues, “a heart bubbling with good…gird yourself with glory and glitter…God has anointed you with oil of joy…” I realized that the imagery of God anointing with oil was familiar to me from Psalm 23. We say Psalm 23 in times of mourning, and Psalm 45, with the same imagery of God anointing with oil, is so strikingly for the exact opposite moment, yet still one borne of overflowing love—here bubbling, glittering, and with the hope of new beginnings.
How do you recommend that readers use To You I Call? My vision was to make the psalms more accessible and easier to navigate so they could be seamlessly incorporated into moments of prayer and carried anywhere. To achieve this, the seventy-two psalms in the book are divided into six broad categories. Each category is further divided into specific moments and experiences. When reading the psalms, I often find myself focusing on just one or a few verses.
To guide readers, I selected one verse from each psalm included in the book, which is featured in Hebrew and bolded in the English translation. I also wrote kavanot (prayerful intentions) to help connect moments from our lives with these ancient words. Of course, by making these decisions, I made assumptions about the reader’s emotional responses to particular moments. In using this book, you might find these divisions inaccurate or one-dimensional. To help guide readers, I included suggestions in the footnotes of each psalm to at least one other psalm in the book.
I invite you to explore what you are feeling at any moment—beyond the way I’ve divided the contents and beyond the specifics of the occasions identified, even among the remaining seventy-eight psalms that are not included.
Rabbi Jade Sank Ross serves the Community Synagogue in Port Washington, New York. She is the author of To You I Call: Psalms Throughout Our Lives, published by CCAR Press.
Poet and liturgist Alden Solovy, a CCAR Press author, shares two poems for Passover:
At the end of the Passover Seder, people around the world say that we have told the tale, followed by “next year in Jerusalem.” Few, if any, actually act on that aspiration. In one sense, it is the impossible dream. We all—even those of us who actually reside here—aspire to live in the heavenly Jerusalem, the fantastic, archetypal dream of Messianic wholeness and peace, with the word of God radiating into all of existence. And our story is far, far from completed. I offer this, then, as a new aspiration to add to the end of our Seders. It is, in part a response to October 7, in part a call to remember the long arc of our history. My suggestion: say this prayer-poem followed by “next year in Jerusalem.”
Our Story Our story is not complete. Oh no. There will be more highs And lows, But the ending, Oh my, Will be tremendous. This is faith. Faith knows That our story is not complete, And the ending Is beyond All our hopes For joy and wonder.
Elijah Is with the Hostages Elijah, The prophet who will announce salvation and peace, Will not visit your Pesach Seder this year. Don’t fill the cup. Don’t waste the wine. The prophet is exhausted, Pleading with the heavens for the hostages Pleading the heavens for the displaced, The grieving and lost.
Find hope in your own hands, In deeds of repairing the world And acts of lovingkindness.
Elijah is not coming to your Seder. The work of healing the world, And bringing redemption, He has left to us.
CCAR Press and Women of Reform Judaism have copublished Covenant of Justice: Prayers, Poems, and Meditations from Women of Reform Judaism. This powerful collection amplifies the voices of female, nonbinary, and genderfluid contributors, addressing vital topics such as racial equity, climate justice, gender equality, and reproductive rights. Grounded in the Jewish value of tikkun olam (repairing the world), the book serves as both an inspiring resource and a call to action.
In this excerpt from the volume, Rabbi Heather Miller shares her poem, which presents planting as a metaphor for tikkun olam.
Planting Evermore
There is earth under my fingernails. Just like the ones who came before me and those who came before them as well.
We are a people who work the land. Tilling it with swing after swing of sharp objects under the blazing sun.
We are committed to the blistering work, dedicated to the process of opening things up. Dedicated to transforming hardened land to soft earth ready to receive seeds. The seeds of all that we wish to grow. Seeds of compassion. Seeds of intellect. Seeds of justice.
We tend the land knowing that it demands of us the keenest of attention. We remember when once something else got in the way. And our labors were lost. As if erased by entropy encroaching in.
And so we plow and till and plant and tend. Diligently. The seeds of compassion, intellect, and justice. And we wait patiently for the fruits of our labors, sweet peace, to ripen on the branch, for all children to taste.
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.
Rabbi Jill Avrin was ordained by Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in 2013. After a decade working as a congregational rabbi, she ventured out on a mission to create YourJewish, a Minnesota-based Jewish nonprofit that focuses on community outreach to engage local Jews in creative programming, life cycle options, and group gathering.
Here, she shares her innovative approach to communal engagement (with challah!), the words that inspire her work, and her hopes for the a bright Jewish future, despite our many hardships.
How do you describe your approach to the rabbinate? As the child of an interfaith and unaffiliated family, my decision to pursue the rabbinate was grounded in a desire to serve those who grew up like me, on the margins of the organized Jewish community. I strive to be a rabbi who opens doors and invites people in, wherever they are on their Jewish journey. My rabbinate is one of validation and affirmation. I want people to know that affiliation, level of observance, or Jewish literacy do not make a person more or less Jewish than anyone else.
As a rabbi, I hope to help people find ways to connect to Judaism and other Jews in ways that make sense to them without making them feel guilty that they are not doing enough or giving enough. I believe that there are many ways to develop a sense of community and belonging, and I hope my rabbinate will serve as a central gathering space for those who have yet to find their place.
What is your rabbinic motto or words that guide your rabbinate? First: Olam chesed yibaneh. I have always centered the value of kindness in my life, in my parenting, and in my rabbinic work; and one of the proudest moments of my career was when someone told me that kindness is my superpower. In my rabbinate, I express kindness by being gentle, affirming, and inclusive of those seeking to engage in Jewish life and believe that this basic value can often be the determining factor in whether someone will return to a Jewish space a second time.
Second: Im tirtzu ein zo agadah. I have always been inspired by the courage of those who came before me to do something that nobody thought could ever be done. In my rabbinate, I lean in to trying new things, taking risks, and experimenting with new ways of gathering and connecting. To me, being a Reform rabbi means adding to the canon of Jewish literature and the canon of Jewish experiences of those who came before me. Judaism has always been a religion of innovation, and the only way we will survive is if we continue to try new things, trusting in ourselves, and our communities. If we will it, it is no dream, and if we build it, they will come.
“I have eternal hope for the future of the Jewish people and believe our best days are ahead of us.”
Can you describe a way in which you’ve been innovative in your career? I’ve looked for opportunities to innovate throughout my career, but there’s no doubt that YourJewish is a reflection of my highest expression of innovation. On a broad scale, I’m introducing a new model for organized Jewish life, centered around individual and small group engagements that occur in creative spaces across the Twin Cities. I’ve been working on launching four demographic-based small groups that meet in people’s homes and creative venues across the cities.
One innovative program I’m particularly proud of is my initiative to engage in outreach at local fairs and festivals. This initiative takes the idea of “meeting people where they are” literally by setting up a pop-up tent at secular festivals. Instead of promoting a program that I hope people will register for, I show up at a venue that gets thousands of attendees. I have a station for challah braiding, and I bake the mini challot that people can braid on the spot in a pizza oven. While the challah is baking, I have an opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue about Judaism through an “ask the rabbi” format.
In only a few hours of sitting at a local festival, I engaged hundreds of people who are living on the margins of the Jewish community, some of whom were looking for opportunities to learn and do more. I had so many people come up to me who wanted to share with me that they have Jewish ancestry, but have never practiced themselves, or who have a roommate who is Jewish and have always been fascinated by the religion. Many of the people who stopped by later met with me for coffee or signed up for one of my programs or small groups. I am currently scaling this effort in a way that expands my outreach and provides greater opportunities for Jews on the margins, and those interested in Judaism to connect with Judaism.
How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career? I was ordained in 2013 and began my rabbinic career in the role of rabbi educator at Bet Shalom Congregation, a Reform synagogue in the Twin Cities, where I worked in college as a religious school teacher. In 2016, I transitioned to the role of associate rabbi, where I had an opportunity to connect with all age demographics at my congregation in every area of rabbinic life.
During those ten years, I had the incredible gift of working in a supportive environment where I could learn, grow, experiment, and lead as a valued member of the staff. I got a taste of all aspects of congregational rabbinic life, taking advantage of everything that comes with working on an incredible clergy team, while also having a portfolio that enabled me to pursue my own passions.
These ten years served as a foundation for me to learn from mentors, find my voice as a rabbi, discover my strengths and passions, and consider how I might develop a vision of my own when the time was right. I know that I would never have been able to launch YourJewish without the years of experience I had at Bet Shalom, and I’m grateful for those precious years as a congregational rabbi.
Now, in year two of YourJewish, I’m building off an initial year of visioning, strategic planning, and pilot programs and am excited to be launching a wider array of engagement opportunities. I feel so grateful to have such an incredible network of supporters who are helping me turn this vision into reality.
What do people find unique, unusual, or surprising about your rabbinate? There are a large number of people in the Twin Cities who’ve been surprised to learn that I am still a rabbi even though I no longer work at a synagogue. I’ve had many people ask me questions like, “How does it feel now that you are not a rabbi anymore?”
The work I’m doing now is of course every bit as rabbinic as the work I was doing as a congregational rabbi, so I see these questions as an opportunity to help folks expand their understanding of what it means to be a rabbi and what rabbinic work looks like. In the Twin Cities, only 30 percent of Jewish households affiliate with a synagogue, and every time I share that small piece of data, people are surprised.
I love data and have found that once people understand the numbers, they recognize the need for the type of rabbinate I’m building.
What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate? Being invited into the most sacred moments in people’s lives, whether that is a life cycle event like a wedding, baby naming, b’ mitzvah, or funeral, or a pastoral moment. I have always felt so humbled, connected, and spiritually transformed by the opportunity to be with people, and guide them through the most sacred moments of their lives.
What brings you joy in your rabbinate? Seeing other people connect to Judaism with joy and meaning. I love that spark in folks eyes when they have an “aha” Jewish moment. I find so much joy in bringing other people close to Judaism and other Jews. Some of my greatest moments of joy and fulfillment have come when I learn that a connection I made, sermon I gave, or class I taught, influenced somebody’s life in a meaningful way. This is what it is all about for me.
What excites you or makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of your rabbinate? I have eternal hope for the future of the Jewish people and believe our best days are ahead of us. This hope comes from so many places. It comes from the data I’ve relied on in building my organization that reports just how many people there are who love being Jewish and who are looking for new ways to connect. It comes from the hundreds of conversations I’ve had with people who are excited about the work I’m doing, and the work that others are doing in my area to make Judaism more vibrant. It comes from the inspiration I feel from my rabbinic colleagues, both here in the Twin Cities, and around the country who are out there making a difference. Despite the pain our people have suffered in Israel, along with the growing antisemitism in America, and the inner divisions that exist in our communities, I believe we have no other choice but to be hopeful for our future. The love, unity, and engagement I’ve seen this year is inspiring and helps give me hope that we can overcome the many challenges ahead.
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.
Rabbi Jessy Dressin ordained byHebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in 2012. After over a decade of working as a community rabbi, she founded Third Space at Shaarei Tfiloh in Baltimore, reinvigorating a once-thriving landmark synagogue into a new center for both Jewish and local programming, learning, and connection.
Here, Rabbi Dressin discusses her entrepreneurial and innovative approach to building Jewish community and cultivating engagement.
How do you describe your rabbinate, and what makes it unique? The through line of my rabbinate has been a combination of entrepreneurial spirit and disruption in an effort to ensure that Judaism and Jewish tradition can be relevant and resonant in the lives of those who are not connecting to the community in “traditional” ways. I’m deeply committed to the belief that meaningful Jewish engagement is about the real basics of Judaism: learning, practice, service, and kindness to others. I aspire to be a conduit to individuals and communities engaging deeply with the wisdom of Jewish tradition as both a voice and influence on how Jews and their loved ones move through the world today. I also like to think of myself as an agitator for the sake of heaven.
What is your rabbinic motto or words that guide your rabbinate? “There’s Torah for that.”
Can you describe a way in which you’ve been innovative in your career? I’ve been an entrepreneurial rabbi for thirteen years (it’s my b’mitzvah year of being a rabbi—my rabbinate is an adult!). I helped found Charm City Tribe, a nationally recognized model for 20s and 30s Jewish engagement in Baltimore and led it, along with other Jewish engagement initiatives over the eight years I was at the Jewish Community Center of Greater Baltimore. Then I then wrote and implemented a Jewish educational strategy and served on the executive team as the rabbi on staff at Repair the World. I am now reactivating a century-old synagogue in West Baltimore as a place for Jewish learning, relationship, and community building. A close follower of Pew research and demographic trends, my entire rabbinate has been about serving the “periphery” in an effort to affirm that no person (due to identity, Jewish experience, etc.) is peripheral to their own lived experience.
How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career? I have been very lucky that my path as a rabbi outside of traditional spaces has really progressed in an ever deepening way. I wrote a rabbinic thesis in 2011–2012 about emergent strategies and models we might explore. I’ve had the opportunity to help support or launch efforts in all three program models and am currently working on an article to be published next year that reflects on that thesis thirteen years later and shares examples of what’s great that’s happening in response to those trends and behaviors.
I’ve also gone from being considered someone who was a bit hard to “box in” to a person who is tapped to present, share, and mentor around those who are looking for innovative Jewish programming and those who are looking to become rabbis outside of traditional spaces. In my own community, what was once looked at as a fad, narrow constituency or “alternative,” is now established, respected, and contributing in meaningful ways throughout the ecosystem of our local Jewish community and city.
What do people find unusual or surprising about your rabbinate? My love of the beit midrash? My comfortability with being Rabbi Jessy. The fact that people who are often non-engaged or underrepresented in traditional Jewish spaces flock to my rabbinic leadership, programs, and initiatives. Maybe that many people who are not Jewish call me their rabbi?
What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate? One of the most rewarding aspects of my rabbinate is the fact that there are those who believe so much in my work that they’re providing me the support and resources to lead with real vision and without having to fit into a limiting framework. I can make a difference without barriers.
What brings you joy in your rabbinate? I love learning, and I love chavruta. I love the rhythm of Jewish time and seasons and ritual and practice.
What excites you or makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of your rabbinate? So many younger rabbis are seeing the potential to have a rabbinate outside of the traditional settings. I get excited when I see people taking ownership of their Jewish experience and growing in their confidence and competence to be able to be drivers of their own Jewish life.
What inspired you to create Sharing the Journey: The Haggadah for the Contemporary Family? When my son, a recent college graduate, announced that he was bringing a young woman of another faith to our seder, I wanted her to be comfortable with our traditions and to embrace our family’s celebration of freedom. When I was not able to find a Haggadah with a special focus on the inclusion of persons of other faiths, I decided to create one.
Was there something new you learned while working on the book? We tell the story of the Exodus using symbols—some traditional and some new ones reflecting our contemporary times. A symbol I included in the Haggadah that I had not used in my family seders was the return of the second half of the middle matzah to the seder plate as a symbol of hope for the oppressed and a symbol of the responsibilities of freedom for free people.
Sharing the Journey was illustrated by Mark Podwal, z”l. What role does the artwork play in the Haggadah? My goal for artwork for Sharing the Journey was to amplify the voice of the text, add richness and beauty to the seder, and for the artwork to be a learning tool that encouraged seder participation and discussion. I was fortunate that a library curator at Yale University was able to provide me with the contact information for Mark Podwal, a prize-winning artist with a strong color palette, a sense of Jewish history and a demonstrated ability to tell stories through his artwork. His illustrations greatly enhance the Sharing the Journey seder experience.
What are some tips for creating Passover seders that are engaging and meaningful for all ages? Welcome a little chaos while engaging children and encouraging discussion. Introduce a contemporary reading or question about freedom every year. At the conclusion of the seder, ask everyone (who is willing) to share a blessing they have received or a special family memory of Passover. Make the story of the Exodus your own.
Having just finished reading the new CCAR Press biography of Rabbi Alexander Schindler, with whom I was blessed to share a bimah on the High Holy Days during my tenure in Brooklyn, New York (1983–1988), I realized again, a thought I shared with my classmates at NAORRR this year: our class was blessed to serve in a golden age of the American Reform Rabbinate.
Two of the initiatives of Alex that Michael Meyer documents in this book, namely, outreach to interfaith couples and their children and the commitment to strengthening and expanding the commitment to Zionism, played a central role in my rabbinate.
Reform outreach initiatives, begun during the early years of my rabbinate, offered me the opportunity to fully welcome Jews into the communities I led. Over the last fifty years I had come to understand that in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, all identifying Jews are Jews by Choice, regardless of their parentage. Welcoming, teaching, and counseling Jewish families from a variety of backgrounds, has brought immense professional satisfaction. The title of Michael Meyer’s biography of Alex Schindler, Above All, We are Jews, a quote I heard from Alex forty years ago, has been a guiding principal of my life ever since.
The centrality of Israel to my Jewish identity preceded my interest in the rabbinate. I grew up in a Conservative synagogue in Cleveland, Ohio led by Rabbi Rudolph Rosenthal, a 1933 HUC-JIR ordainee, who instilled in me a true love of Israel and helped me to spend my junior year of college (1968–69) at Hebrew University. He, along with my Hillel rabbi at Vanderbilt, Rabbi Lou Silberman, both of whom shared a commitment to the Civil Rights movement in America and a deep responsibility to be advocates for Israel, became models for me of the possibilities that the rabbinate offered me to dedicate my life to the words of Deuteronomy: צדק צדק תרדוף
Born in 1948, when the memories of the yellow star of degradation was still a vivid reality incised upon the hearts and souls of Jews, I have been blessed to stand in pride next to the blue star of Israel’s flag. While for Frank Rosensweig, the Star of David was a symbol of God, Torah, and Israel connected by creation, revelation, and redemption, ever since a Mishnah class in 1968, where I first seriously studied Pirkei Avot, I have had a different interpretations of the Magen David.
In Pirkei Avot 1:2, Shimon HaTzadik teaches that the world stands upon three things: Torah, worship, and acts of lovingkindness. At the end of the chapter, Shimon HaTzadik teaches that the world stands upon three things: truth, justice, and peace.
I believe that these two triads superimposed upon each other, creating the Jewish star, teaches that it is through Torah, worship, and acts of lovingkindness, that we can achieve for ourselves, for our people, Israel, and the world, truth, justice, and peace.
Rabbi Neal Borovitz is Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Avodat Shalom in River Edge, New Jersey.He is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We look forward to celebrating him and all of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis at CCAR Convention 2025.
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.
Rabbi Heather Miller is the founder of Keeping It Sacred, a global progressive Jewish community dedicated to exploring sacred Jewish texts, deep learning experiences, ritual practice, and the pursuit of social justice. Offerings range from Torah study and holiday celebrations, to healing sessions and spirituality, interfaith guest dialogues, and racial justice topics. Here, Rabbi Miller discusses how she created the Keeping It Sacred community and her innovative approach to Jewish community and education.
How do you describe your approach to your rabbinate, and what makes it unique? Keeping It Sacred (KITS) is named after my grandmother, Fruma Kit Endler, who always made Judaism accessible, relevant, and empowering. And that is what we do through intrepid exploration of sacred texts, the practice of meaningful rituals, and the unwavering pursuit of social justice. My approach acknowledges that everyone has their own Torah (teaching) to teach. And the intersection of their lives and the texts is where the beauty of Judaism happens.
How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career? Just before the global pandemic, I started a center where tenderhearted people could nerd out studying together. This center has become a full-fledged congregational community with shabbat and holiday services, social groups, social action book clubs and lifecycle ritual offerings including a yearly community confirmation ceremony for those who want to confirm their love for Jewish life and the community. In building Keeping It Sacred, I have drawn from the best of my experiences having served congregations, schools, hospitals, non-profit organizations, and as an author and scholar.
How have you been innovative in your rabbinical career? Our communal structure is global: we incorporate our members from all over the world into the fabric of the community, one and all. We do this by providing ample opportunities to interface and exchange ideas, perspectives, and life lessons based on their experiences. Everyone learns a bit more about one another, the texts, and themselves.
We’ve built a community with sacred text at the center: We began by studying texts and have evolved to incorporate them in everything we do from social justice to rituals to social activities to fundraising. Texts center our lives, and every day is a new opportunity to experience revelation.
We have successfully built a business model where membership is not dues-based. People become members by signing up for our newsletter or participating in our programs. We are fortunate that our members also value this incredibly accessible model, and they freely offer their financial means to help keep the organization running strong.
What do people find unique, unusual, or surprising about your rabbinate? One of the hallmarks of my rabbinate has been my pursuit of social justice, particularly through the work of interfaith organizing. Rarely does a week go by without me speaking at a house of worship about Jewish perspectives on various topics, leading a meeting for a governmental interfaith advisory board, or engaging in the sacred work of mutual understanding with interfaith partners. This commitment has led me to engage in governmental meetings, displays of solidarity, and consulting for the entertainment, professional sports, medical, energy, and fashion industries.
What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate? Sharing the relevance of Jewish texts in accessible, empowering ways.
What brings you joy in your rabbinate? Visiting with members from around the world, whether they travel great distances to visit, or I do!
What excites you or makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of rabbinate? Our community keeps growing both in terms of the numbers of our members but also in the depth of their relationships—with Torah, with Jewish identity, with me, and with each other. We welcome and hold sacred space for one another, and we champion one another. The future is bright!
Prayers, Poems, and Meditations from Women of Reform Judaism
A dynamic collection of prayers, poems, and reflections on the most pressing social justice issues of our time, viewed through the lens of Jewish tradition and covenant.
