RavBlog: Central Conference of American Rabbis

When I look back on the fifty years since my ordination, I realize that I have been very fortunate indeed. My rabbinic positions, with one wonderful exception, have been most rewarding and all have been within the institutions of our Reform Movement, beginning with nine years at HUC-JIR’s Los Angeles campus, three years as assistant dean, and then six more as associate dean.  

In 1982, I accepted Rabbi Alex Schindler’s invitation to become the regional director of the Pacific Southwest Council of the URJ (then still known as the UAHC), covering congregations from San Luis Obispo, California to El Paso, Texas. When Rabbi Schindler was succeeded by Rabbi Eric Yoffie, I moved to New York and became the senior vice president of the URJ, retiring (or so I thought) in 2008. It was Al Pacino who said in The Godfather series, “Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in” and, indeed, I was asked to serve as the interim director of rabbinic placement, a position I held from 2009 to 2011.  

I may be the only CCAR member who has been on the payroll of all three Movement institutions organized by Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise! In any case, I found each of those positions to be fulfilling, satisfying, and growthful—and each produced lifelong friendships with rabbinic colleagues. In each, I came to appreciate the importance of rabbinic-lay relationships, the component parts of rabbinic leadership, and that success in the rabbinate depends less on facility with challenging texts and more on essential menschlichkeit and good old-fashioned “people skills.”  

At the outset of this essay, I referred to a “wonderful exception” to my institutional positions. Through a delightful bit of serendipity, in 1993 I was invited to lead High Holy Day services in a new, not-yet-fully organized group of Jews in Singapore. I went, thinking that it was a one-off opportunity for an unusual experience, never—never!—imagining that it would lead to a twenty-one-year tenure as the visiting rabbi in what would become the United Hebrew Congregation in that fascinating Southeast Asia city-state. Toward the end of those twenty-one years, I convinced the lay leaders that the community’s numeric and programmatic growth required the presence of a full-time, in-residence rabbi, and then had the joy of “installing” my successor. In retrospect, the experience of taking a congregation in its “infancy” through its “adolescence” into “adulthood” brought me a great sense of satisfaction and joy. 

I should mention one other highlight of my years at the URJ, namely the opportunity to develop the newest of the Union’s sleepaway camps in Snohomish County, WA, not far from the city where I grew up (Bellingham, WA). Camp Kalsman, situated on 299 acres in a gorgeous setting, serves Reform Jewish families from Alaska to the Northern California border and from Western Washington through Idaho and Montana. I kvell when I have been able to visit—seeing youngsters benefit from a place where “Jewish identity formation” happens so beautifully! I also am amused to see the signpost naming the main road through the camp in my honor: Lenny Lane (with no apparent apology to The Beatles!).  

All this being said, I do have some significant concerns regarding our Reform Movement and its congregations in the years ahead. It’s not clear to me these days that people care so much about what it means to be part of a “movement.” It’s also not clear about the potentially long-lasting effects of the Covid pandemic on our congregations. I worry about the growth of antisemitism and about distressing political developments in Israel. Worries to one side, I do enjoy retirement and I do look back on my fifty years in the rabbinate with great satisfaction and joy. 

Rabbi Lennard R. Thal is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We celebrate him and all of the CCAR members who reached this milestone in 2023.

Before ordination, our class in New York gathered for a luncheon. It would be one of the last opportunities to come together before we embarked on our respective rabbinic journeys. We were asked to speak about our goals and aspirations. As I listened to my colleagues, I realized that I had no clear vision. It reminded me of the question adults often ask a child: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

At that point, all I had was a one-way ticket to Israel. On October 6, 1973, the Yom Kippur War broke out. So much for plans! I ended up sitting by the side of wounded soldiers for several months at Hadassah hospital, helping them pass long hours between operations. It was an aspect of bikur cholim for which I hadn’t been prepared. Additionally, I began studies at the Hebrew University. Three years later, my wife, Tsippy, and I, returned to Cincinnati, where I was born there. I finished my doctorate in 1980, the same year my children were born. In retrospect, it was an amazing time in my life.  

At this juncture, I again asked myself the question: “What now?” Do I teach at a university or find a pulpit? A professor at HUC-JIR gave me some advice: do both! In the pulpit, you can publish, you can write, you can teach, you can counsel, you can impact the people in your congregation and well beyond.   

I heeded his advice. I spent three wonderful years in Baton Rouge, then returned to New York (where I had grown up as a child), and stayed at my synagogue for the next thirty-three years. New York offered so many opportunities.

Becoming active in the New York Board of Rabbis, I enjoyed the camaraderie of colleague from all denominations. The experience gave me the idea to create the North American Board of Rabbis (NABOR) which brought rabbis together from all across the U.S. We engaged political and religious leaders across Europe and in Israel. On a smaller scale, the Polish and German governments invited us several times to visit high schools and universities. On one occasion an Orthodox rabbi and I were flying to Poland when we heard the news that Pope John Paul II had died. Naturally we assumed that many of the scheduled events would be cancelled. Were we wrong! For hours, we answered questions in churches and universities before huge crowds. 

Over the years, we worked with interfaith groups (Sufi Moslems, U.S. cardinals, and the Council of Churches) to raise consciousness and funding for the less fortunate on Thanksgiving. We received generous support from individuals and corporations.

Locally, before the widespread use of computers, we set up a job bank for unemployed members of synagogues on Long Island, as well as hosted gatherings for single Jews who wanted to meet other Jews (this was years before JDate). 

We took groups of confirmation classes to Europe to be hosted by local families with kids their own age. They learned more about Judaism and Jewish history in Prague and Budapest than they would have in a classroom. In many instances, those bonds of friendship still exist today.

Another challenge for me were the children of former congregants with whom I had lost contact with after their bar or bat mitzvah. Would they be attending a synagogue for the High Holy Days? I started another project, Synagogue Connect, which offers free access for the High Holy Days to Jewish youth ages 18–30. Over 1200 synagogues from all denominations signed on! Besides some 900 synagogues in the U.S., there were synagogues from over thirty countries (Israel, Europe, South America, South Africa, Australia, Japan, and more) that joined as well. We were supported by the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations. Today, Synagogue Connect is run by AEPi fraternity.

The journey in life took many detours: traveling to unusual destinations (like Mongolia), writing a novel, standup comedy, teaching rabbinic students, and so on.  

So what do you want to do after you retire? I don’t know—maybe a little of this, and a little of that. Life doesn’t always go as planned and that can be a good thing as well. 

Rabbi Ronald Brown is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We celebrate him and all of the CCAR members who reached this milestone in 2023.

While I am not a prophet nor a son of a prophet, at this fiftieth anniversary of my ordination by HUC-JIR, I think of Isaiah. When God sought to recruit Isaiah, and Isaiah demurred, the Eternal One touched his lips with a glowing coal from the Temple altar. It is the metaphor of touch that I use to review five decades in the rabbinate.

I have been touched by several individuals who moved me in the direction of the rabbinate, and whose personal examples guided me:  

—My parents, Herb and Harriet Citrin, were raised in non-observant, unaffiliated homes. When I was in first grade, they joined a Reform synagogue. They became active, and transmitted to me the joy and fulfillment of being part of a community characterized by caring and celebration.  

—Metuka Miliken Benjamin, my first Hebrew school teacher who, just a few years ago, was awarded by the State of Israel, recognition as the outstanding diaspora educator. Metuka touched me with a passion for Hebrew language and Zionism which continues to this day.  

—Rabbi William Cutter, my teacher and thesis advisor, who touched me with his listening skills, his penetrating questions, and his unfailing kindness. 

—Rabbi Isaiah “Shy” Zeldin, my rabbi and a father figure. He touched me with his creative vision, his outreach to people in need, and his skill as a builder and motivator.  

—Rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn touched me from the time he invited me to become his assistant, and after three years, his associate. He modeled for me integrity, diplomacy, and unwavering dedication to activism for social justice 

As I review half a century of my rabbinate, I hope I have touched and inspired people in my congregational communities: 

   —Michael Brown, z”l, was heavily burdened with cerebral palsy, yet determined to become a bar mitzvah. With tremendous effort, Michael learned to recite the Torah blessings. On that Shabbat he was glowing.  

—Hundreds of confirmation students continued pursuing Torah study with me to explore matters of theology and concerns about Israel. I continue to receive communications from former students who are now parents themselves.  

—Listening to those who need to be heard, being supportive, and guiding them to find strength in our tradition. 

The focus of my rabbinate has been congregational life. My passions are education, interfaith dialogue, Israel, and social justice. I cofounded the Jewish-Catholic Dialogue of Albuquerque which, over the years, has expanded to include Protestants and Muslims. I served on the board of the Martin Luther King Jr. Multicultural Council, which provided college scholarships to minority students. I served as the president of the Pacific Association of Reform Rabbis, and as a board member of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. During my active rabbinate, I served six congregations, and helped lead two congregations to build new synagogue facilities. 

This is a list of books I have authored over the years: 

• Joseph’s Wardrobe (UAHC, 1987). A children’s novel about values and identity. 
• Gates of Repentance for Young People (CCAR, 2002), co-authored with Judith Z. Abrams, z”l. 
• Ten Sheaves, a collection of sermons, addresses and articles (Amazon, 2014). 
• Lights in the Forest: Rabbis Respond to Twelve Essential Jewish Questions  (CCAR, 2014). Volume conceived and edited by P. Citrin. 
• I Am My Prayer (Resource Publications, 2021). 
• Unpublished Master’s thesis, the Arab in Hebrew Literature since 1948, shelved in the Klau Library at HUC-JIR. 

I am blessed and touched by my family: my wife of forty-one years, Susan Morrison Citrin, our four children, and eight grandchildren. We are retired in Albuquerque where I continue to teach adults. Hiking, biking, travel, and writing continue to touch my life. 

Rabbi Paul Citrin is celebrating 50 years as a Reform rabbi. We look forward to celebrating him and more of the CCAR’s 50-year rabbis in 2023.