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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.

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Rabbinic Innovation Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Abram Goodstein’s Rabbinic Innovation: Time Traveling Through 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.

Rabbi Abram Goodstein serves Congregation Beth Sholom in Anchorage, Alaska, the congregation and town where he was raised. Congregation Beth Sholom is the largest Jewish organization in the State of Alaska, and Rabbi Goodstein takes an innovative, interactive approach to teaching kids Torah while grounding his congregation in tikkun olam and g’milut chasadim.

How do you describe your approach to the rabbinate?
I see myself as a community builder. I believe it’s my role to create an engaging and safe place for Jews to worship, learn, and have meaningful communal experiences. I also believe it’s a Jewish community’s responsibility to practice tikkun olam and give back to their greater community. Just as a Jewish professional serves their community, so does the Jewish community serve their neighbors.

What is your rabbinic motto or words that guide your rabbinate?
Judaism is a responsibility as much as it is a religion.

How have you been innovative in your rabbinic career?
One of my favorite innovations is a program called Shabbat Time Machine. Since my congregation has, for decades, held our religious school on Sundays, our whole school, including parents, starts in our sanctuary and we go back in time by one day (with lots of sound effects) to celebrate a Shabbat morning service. We go through the Shabbat liturgy with different classes leading different sections culminating with the youth group running a full Torah service. I always offer a story that is acted out by kids and teachers. Throughout the service, I offer different opportunities for the kids to engage in the prayers. After the Aleinu, we go back to Sunday; Shabbat Time Machine is over and the children go to their individual classes.

Rabbi Goodstein with his family at Camp Kalsman in Washington State.

How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career?
I started out believing I would spend most of my time being a rabbi in a small congregation, working for a community small enough to only need a single rabbi, and just enjoying a rich Jewish communal experience. However, out of necessity, I have become more involved in social justice causes in my local community. I have come to believe that since we are am s’gulah, God’s treasured people, it is our responsibility to practice tikkun olam. I am inspired by Moses’s famous statement, “Justice, justice you shall pursue,” and have taken this statement to heart as my career has evolved. I’ve become deeply involved in many local, city, and state social justice campaigns including LGBTQ+ rights, child welfare, homelessness, and preventing antisemitism.

What do people find unique, unusual, or surprising about your rabbinate?
I wear a lot of flannel! Alaska is a famously casual place, and I absolutely embrace it.

People are also often surprised to discover that I was born with a lifelong speech impediment. While they don’t necessarily hear it, it’s not because it’s gone, but the enormous amount of work I put into navigating it. I’ve worked with a number of bet mitzvah students who also have impediments and I show them that impediments do not have to impede your speaking as long as you have something important to say.

What brings you joy in your rabbinate?
Some of the greatest joy I have experienced is helping people feel their emotions. Whether it’s officiating a wedding, cheering on a bet mitzvah kid or adult, or crying with a community member who lost a loved one, a communal Jewish life is beautiful, and I believe our tradition offers so many ways to experience our feelings. I derive great joy from showing people how our tradition celebrates our successes and mourns our losses.

What makes you feel the most hopeful about the future of the rabbinate?
We recently had two Friday night regulars who met at our temple start a relationship. I tell you, the inner yenta in me is positively beaming. Anyways, I get excited when I watch community members become inspired by our tradition, whether it’s to perform acts of tikkun olam (my personal favorite) or making life choices based on the values taught by our tradition. I love it when a community member enriches their lives through Torah, avodah, and g’milut chasadim.

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Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Joe Klein: 50 Years of Preaching and Teaching

My long tenure in the small community of Terre Haute, Indiana taught me the singular importance and religious value of interfaith dialogue and friendship. We challenged each other to affirm the meaning and value of being a “believing” Jew and Christian, striving to read Hebrew Scriptures and New Testament with a single voice.

They helped me to understand and appreciate the New Testament, building upon the excellent foundation of New Testament classes at HUC-JIR. My teaching “A Rabbi Reads the Gospels and Paul” in adult Jewish and Christian communities has been a hallmark of my career.

I’ve always wanted to, and have been able to, reach beyond the sanctuary and classrooms of the synagogue. I’ve been fortunate to have found Christian colleagues who were comfortable with my preaching and teaching to their folks, and university department chairs who thought my reading of Hebrew Scripture and explication of the Jewish heritage were worthy of new courses added to the curriculum. And in “retirement,” I found an additional home in a small Christian university where I teach courses on Genesis, Exodus, K’tuvim, and even Introduction to Judaism, in addition to courses at a large state university.

My years of teaching Genesis at the university and to adult members of the Jewish community led me to publish last summer Reading Genesis Again for the First Time—A Radical Commentary. I think of it as written in the spirit of Rashi and ibn Ezra, closely examining the p’shat of the Genesis text, free from the traditional bias of what Genesis is “supposed to say.” (Reading Genesis is available through Amazon Publishing.)

In the congregation, I have always tried to teach “differently,” so I regularly included a semester study of the New Testament Gospels in the confirmation program, and used magic to express the meaning and message of monthly Shabbat and festival services.

Looking back, I realize that while I certainly learned so very much at HUC-JIR, the real gift from the school was teaching me the best way to be a teacher. I learned from my professors (well, most of them) how to prepare and present, the value of handouts and testing, to teach with challenging questions, and to reward thoughtful responses. More than my undergraduate university experience, my five years at HUC-JIR taught me how to be a good student and then to be a worthwhile teacher.

Rabbi Joe Klein 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 Innovation Rabbinic Reflections

Expanding Religious Diversity at Sea: Rabbi Emily Rosenzweig, Lieutenant Commander, US Navy, Serves All Who Serve

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 work across diverse settings, rapidly changing the shape of the sacred work of the rabbinate with innovative new visions for Jewish communal life.

Here, we share 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.

Rabbi Emily Rosenzweig is a Reform rabbi and CCAR member, ordained by HUC-JIR in 2006. After serving Temple Israel in Columbus, Ohio, she began her career in the United States Navy in 2012. She completed Officer Development School and continued at the Naval Chaplaincy School and Center in Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

Today, she is a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, currently assigned as an Exchange Chaplain with the British Royal Navy. She is the first non-Christian chaplain to serve full-time in the Royal Navy and is tasked with helping expand religious diversity within the Royal Navy. She spends times on military bases and at sea, serving Jewish Navy personnel and members of other faiths.

Here, Rabbi Rosenzweig discusses her innovative approach to her role as military chaplain.

How do you describe your rabbinate?
While I am employed by the US Navy, I’m currently assigned as the Exchange Chaplain with the British Royal Navy in Portsmouth, England. I often describe my work as being an ambassador: part representative, part translator, part cultural anthropologist, part teacher. When I began my career as a congregational rabbi I was an ambassador for Judaism, for Reform Judaism and its institutions, for our congregation, for the senior rabbi—all depending on my audience. Now, in various circumstances, I represent either the Royal Navy, the US Navy, the military and everyone who has ever served, Americans, America, Jewish people worldwide, Reform/Progressive Judaism, Judaism, or some combination thereof.

 One of the best parts of being on exchange with the British Royal Navy is that I’m able to represent the US Navy at events here in the UK (where there is mostly a US Air Force presence). This past Memorial Day, I offered the invocation and benediction at the Cambridge American Cemetery, a 30-acre site that serves as the burial ground for more than 3800 service members killed during World War II. Among those laid to rest there are four of the crew members of my grandfather’s B-17 bomber who died in a plane crash that my grandfather survived. 

All answers given here are my own and do not necessarily reflect any of the above listed institutions/organizations/ ways of peace.

What guides your rabbinate?
Words that guide me: compassion, humility, connection, humor. The closest I have to a rabbinic motto is the US Navy Chaplain Corps motto: “Called to serve.” I knew I wanted to be a rabbi when I was fifteen. I couldn’t explain my certainty then, and I’m not sure I’ve identified good reasons for it since, but I know it’s what I’m meant to do with my time on earth.

How have you innovated within your rabbinic career?
Much of my current assignment requires innovation, as I am the first non-Christian chaplain to serve full-time in the Royal Navy. For the annual gathering of Royal Navy chaplains, I worked with an Anglican colleague to transform the communal prayer service from the standard Anglican evening worship to one with equal contributions from Jewish and Christian liturgical traditions. While at sea with one of the Royal Navy’s aircraft carriers, I reimagined how a chaplain might lead a gathering during the ship’s “church” time block that could include people of other faith practices and humanist or non-religious members of the crew alongside the regular attendees.

What do people find surprising about your rabbinate?
There are Jews in the (American) military?! The flip side of that question is that people are surprised that I work with all the members of my unit, regardless of faith background.

What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate?
The institution I work for doesn’t rely on me for its continued existence, so I’m able to focus on people—listening, advising, celebrating, teaching, coaching, or otherwise, depending on the day. And there’s good health insurance too.

What excites you about the future of the rabbinate?
Among military leaders, there’s a growing recognition of the importance of spiritual fitness in the resilience and overall readiness of our people. I’m excited to be on the front lines of how chaplains of all faiths can address and engage the universal human spirit in all of our service members and their families; not just to survive a deployment, but to thrive throughout their lives.

Rabbi Rosenzweig has been awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, and the Navy Recruit Training Service Medal.

Categories
Books CCAR Press Chanukah

Chanukah Is Not a Minor Holiday

There will not be a victory of light over darkness as long as we do not recognize the clear and simple truth that we must enhance the light rather than fight the darkness. —Aaron David Gordon, 1856–1922

“It’s not fair that Jewish kids get eight presents, and we get only one!” grumbled the young American cabdriver, not much more than a child himself, as he drove me to the airport after I told him I was Jewish. I was a bit perplexed, and hesitantly asked him what he was talking about. “Chanukah presents,” he replied as though it were obvious, then looked at me with some suspicion, as though maybe I was not really Jewish. “Eight pres­ents? What is he talking about?” I thought. Growing up in Jerusalem, we received chocolate coins for Chanukah, which is what my husband and I did with our children. And now this cab driver was telling me there is a different Chanukah?

To be sure, Chanukah is a fun, lively holiday in Israel. We light candles with family and community, sing “Maoz Tzur,” and recount the tale of the holiday miracle. The scent of hot, sweet sufganiyot (Israel’s version of jelly doughnuts) drifts from bakeries for weeks before the festival. Walking the streets of Jerusalem at night is a special treat—menorahs of all sizes and shapes illuminate windows and doorposts. Still, the Israeli version of the Festival of Lights is not as central as it is in the United States.

The cabdriver was right. We lived in the US for two years as a family for my final years of rabbinical school, as we wanted to experience progressive, liberal Judaism where it’s in the Jewish mainstream. We quickly learned from our (somewhat frustrated) chil­dren that their friends received valuable presents for Chanukah. Trendy gadgets, rollerblades, and sneakers appeared each day in school. Jewish homes were decorated with colored lights no less impressive than those of their Christmas-celebrating neighbors, and the Jewish schools celebrated Chanukah with great fanfare. The preparations began weeks before Chanukah, reaching their zenith at a gigantic and crowded “Chanukah fair.”

While buying dreidels, gift bags, and glittery decorations (none of which I had previously bought), I realized how the magical feelings evoked by Christmas—especially in children—force Jewish leaders, teachers, and parents to offer an attractive alternative to the majority Christian culture. Chanukah is an excellent test case for examining the influence of the non-Jewish American environment on a Jewish holiday in comparison with its observance in Israel, where Jews are the majority.

One Festival, Many Themes

Jewish festival and holy days have evolved throughout many centuries, and in different eras they were ascribed with new rituals and meaning. Every Jewish holiday has multiple layers; this is especially clear with Chanukah.

This festival entered the Jewish calendar rather late: Like Purim, it does not appear in the Torah, but unlike Purim it was established after the canonization of the Hebrew Bible and is mentioned only briefly in the Mishnah and Talmud. This doesn’t mean there is anything “minor” about this minor festival—its legal discourse may be meager, but it is certainly rich in term of its celebration and themes. There are at least three different themes or narratives for Chanukah.

In the Books of Maccabees, the oldest source for the festival of Chanukah, the main emphasis is the military heroism of the Hasmoneans (a priestly family led by Mattathias and his children, who started the Maccabean Revolt of 167–160 BCE). The Rabbis later deemphasized the military victory and instead celebrated the miracle of a small cruse of oil found in the Temple, which lasted eight days (Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 21b). Divine intervention rather than military victory, became the central theme of the holiday. Many centuries later, with the rise of the Zionist movement, Chanukah became a holiday of prime significance. Zionist leaders regarded the Maccabees’ victory as a model for Jewish sovereignty, and returned their story to the center of Chanukah’s stage.

However, the ancient origin of the festival is probably neither that of a military victory or divine intervention, but instead is a response to the cold and darkness (in the Northern hemisphere). In ancient times, as well as today, the ever-shortening days and growing darkness engendered anxiety. Many cultures observe winter festivals focused on light, warmth, and fire. Today, many Jews relate to the anxiety provoked by darkness and desire for light representing hope.

Our Task Now

One of Chanukah’s main themes is the concept of bayit (home). The Maccabees purified the Temple, which is sometimes referred to as HaBayit (the Home). It is at heart a domestic festival, celebrated primarily at home. Families gather around the menorah’s light, joining in song and eating oily foods. It may be storming outside, but home is a warm and safe shelter we share with beloved people. At least, it used to be so.

Since October 7, 2023, the core concept of home has been shaken for many of us. So many families were brutally attacked in their own homes—murdered, violated, or taken hostage. Many innocent people lost or were forced to leave their homes. This devastating reality forces us to rethink, reimagine, and reestablish the concept of bayit—the haven we all need in an often harsh reality.

This is true not only in Israel and the Middle East: It seems that our global sense of being at home, of feeling safe in the world, has been challenged and contested. During the pandemic, we were confined to our homes, and for many the intimacy of one’s dwelling place became alien and confining. For some, it has yet to return to a place of comfort and safety. In Israel, we are confronted with the ongoing repercussions of the October massacre and war. North American Jews face a staggering rise in antisemitism. Throughout the world, we face political turmoil and environmental uncertainty.

Chanukah reminds us that light still exists. This Chanukah, we are tasked with committing ourselves to make our world a bit better. Of course, this task is not just for the eight days of Chanukah, but for every day.

Like the Maccabees who restored the Temple altar’s purity; like our ancestors who believed that miracles are possible and sought to enable them; like everyone who yearns for light in the ever-growing darkness—may we, too, commit ourselves to creating a sustainable home for ourselves, our children, and all those who need shelter. It’s cold out there, but if we are committed to increasing the light, we can create the warmth and connection our world so desperately needs.

Rabbi Dalia Marx, PhD, is the Rabbi Aaron D. Panken Professor of Liturgy at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR) in Jerusalem. She is the chief editor of T’filat HaAdam, the Israeli Reform prayer book (MaRaM, 2020). From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar was first published in Israel in 2018 as Bazman and has been translated into German, Spanish, and now English.

Categories
Books CCAR Press

Author Interview: ‘The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality’

Rabbi Lisa J. Gruschow is the editor of The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality from CCAR Press. In this interview, she reflects on the volume’s continued relevance ten years after its publication.

What inspired you to edit The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality?

Rabbi Hara Person asked me to edit the anthology, and she used a great approach to overcome my initial concern about having enough time to take it on: She told me that women often said no to book projects, and therefore aren’t represented enough, which, of course, pushed me to say yes. More important, though, was that it felt like a significant project and a chance to make a positive contribution while increasing my own understanding.

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

It was fascinating to me to learn more about the history of our Movement’s approach to sexuality. I came to the Reform Movement when the doors of the movement I grew up in were closed to me because of my sexuality, so to me, Reform Judaism felt like a safe haven. I had always known we stand on the shoulders of giants, but this project really helped me realize how much struggle and sacrifice went into getting us where we are now. And of course, that’s an important insight, because the journey is ongoing, and we still have a responsibility to learn and grow.

What was the most challenging part of editing the book?

There were issues I’d have loved to include that we just couldn’t at the time, and which in retrospect, are glaring omissions. Polyamory, for instance, or asexuality. Other issues, such as premarital sex, I didn’t think required much discussion, but turned out to be a real question for some of the students who have invited me to campus to teach.

The Sacred Encounter was published in 2014. Does the book speak differently to us today? 

It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years. For sure, there are pieces we would include now that weren’t enough on our radar or within our reach ten years ago. But I think the book has kept its importance, both for the historical perspective it gives, and for the wide range of questions and circumstances it covers. As I wrote in the introduction, significant harm has been done to human sexuality in the name of religion, so we have a responsibility to be a force for good on these issues. As much as the world has changed since 2014, there are still teens and adults who are in the closet, and who don’t see a way forward for themselves in Jewish life. If this book makes a difference to one of those people, it’s worth it.

Rabbi Lisa J. Grushcow, DPhil, is the Senior Rabbi at Temple Emanu-El-Beth Sholom in Montreal and the editor of The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality from CCAR Press.