Vision Statement

It was a brisk September morning in Juneau, Alaska, and the waves, shadowed in a thin, dewy mist, lapped gently against the shoreline. I stood waist-deep in the water, clad in my dry suit, holding my binder out of harm’s reach and marveling at the ethereal landscape before me. After a moment a woman emerged from below the surface and took a long, deep breath, as if she was breathing in life’s air for the very first time. She quickly wrapped herself in a towel and, as we turned towards the shore, grabbed hold of my hand. “It’s taken me years to get to this moment,” she said through shivery tears, “and you helped me over the finish line. Thank you.”

In Proverbs we read, “the heart alone knows the bitterness of its soul” (Proverbs 14:10), meaning that each person knows what their heart is yearning for, and in what spaces they experience the feelings of bitterness and joy. There are an infinite number of reasons why someone might find meaning and purpose in Jewish life and community, including spirituality through prayer and ritual, the satisfaction of digging into ancient Jewish texts, and the pursuit of justice through advocacy, education, or activism. It is not the role of a rabbi to make assumptions about why someone is or is not called to Judaism, but rather to listen to and for these diverse needs and interests, and whenever possible, help bring them to life. This congregant was drawn to the beauty of Jewish lifecycle rituals, including the one she performed at the end of her conversion journey as she submerged in a natural mikveh (ritual bath) along the coast of her hometown. During my two years traveling back and forth to Alaska, I tried to meet congregants in the places and spaces that made their hearts sing, whether that was in the sanctuary of their synagogue, at the summit of a mountain, or beneath the waves of the ocean.

Sacred listening is not only a data gathering tool for me, but also a means of building relationships and achieving a state of deep and abiding trust. Through this act, I hope to cultivate a rabbinate of compassion and safety, one that prioritizes personal and collective transformation for the individuals within the communities I serve. I believe, to paraphrase the brilliant Maya Angelou, that when someone shares with you who they are, you should believe them, support them, and challenge them to be even more than they had previously imagined.

Being in sacred conversation also sits at the center of my commitment to pursuing justice and equity in our broken world. Through my previous organizing work and current community organizing rabbinic internship at Leo Baeck Temple in Los Angeles, I have come to understand that the most impactful justice efforts stem from intentional relationship building across lines of difference, both within and outside of seemingly monolithic communities. I believe that the ratio of speaking to listening in an initial organizing one-to-one conversation should be about 30/70; its purpose is to meet the individual where they are, listen to what they need and care about, and work to cultivate a foundation of trust. By prioritizing meaningful and lasting relationships with those of marginalized or non-dominant identities and backgrounds, we open ourselves up to understanding what people truly need and want, and expand not only our impact but also our endurance.

One of my key takeaways from the Resetting the Table, Building a Culture of Dialogue Training that I participated in last spring, was that receptivity is not the same as agreement. I do not have to relate to a particular issue in the same way as someone else for me to receive their story, and to allow mine to be inflected, complicated, and ultimately changed by it. And a similar understanding of a polarizing topic is not a prerequisite for another person to internalize my unique perspective. With this rabbinic understanding, I plan to build relationships with individuals from all backgrounds, those who are predisposed to agree with my perspectives and those who will likely find them challenging. In cultivating these relationships, I hope to build a foundation that can not only survive moments of loving agitation, but also be strengthened by them. I have every intention of pursuing a rabbinate that will challenge people’s ideas and push them to think critically about issues of moral import, and I am hopeful that such moments will only reinforce that previously established foundation of learning, listening, and mutual growth.

Shema Yisrael, the great command means, ‘Listen, Israel.’ Prioritize the sacred work of listening, not with the purpose of debate or to develop a judicious response, but rather to gain understanding, to nurture relationship, and to drive progress. Whether it be through prayer, text study, justice, or a mikveh in Alaska, each person has the sacred right to share who they are and what they need in the world and out of Judaism. As a rabbi, it is my job to lovingly respond to that need, fostering meaningful and deep relationships, creating avenues for spiritual and communal connection, and agitating for a more just and equitable Jewish and secular society.