What Does It Mean to Be a Rabbi? (Still Figuring That Out)

When I was first ordained, the word Rabbi felt… distant. It was something people called me, sure—but I didn’t feel it in my bones. Not yet.

I still don’t wear it all the time. Sometimes, yes: when I’m officiating a wedding, guiding someone through a B Mitzvah, or holding space in spiritual direction. In those moments, I feel the weight and warmth of the title. But day to day? It’s more fluid. It feels less like something I claim, and more like something people offer to me—when they trust me with their stories, their grief, their longing, their wonder. That’s when I get to step into it.

The Rabbi I Thought I Had to Be

When I started this path, I had a very specific image of what a Rabbi was: a straight, cis man in a suburban Reform synagogue. He had a sermon ready each week, and a very particular way of doing things. That version of rabbi felt polished and untouchable—and totally separate from my world.

I didn’t know queer Rabbis. I didn’t see people blending tradition with movement work, reiki, yoga, or rest. I didn’t have a map for what I now realize was waiting to be created.

Still Learning

The hardest part? Sometimes it’s being around other Jews. I worry I won’t know the right answer to a question, or I’ll be “found out” as someone who doesn’t quite fit the mold. I’ve resisted the title at times, especially early on, out of fear I’d be asked to do something I didn’t know how to do.

I’ve said “I’m a Rabbi” quietly, almost like a question.

But over time—and with practice—I’ve begun to wear it more fully.

Spiritual direction changed everything. It helped me uncover my voice and trust my way of being. It reminded me that I don’t have to be everyone’s Rabbi. Just the right one for some. And that’s enough.

So What Does a Rabbi Look Like?

Sometimes a rabbi leads prayer. Sometimes we sit in silence with someone who’s lost their sense of God. Sometimes we offer a blessing. Or we just listen.

Sometimes a rabbi teaches Torah. Sometimes we teach yoga. Or offer reiki. Or make coffee for someone going through a breakup.

What unites it all is showing up—with presence, with love, with a fierce commitment to making space for others to belong.

Being a rabbi, for me, means walking with people—not ahead of them. I used to think leadership meant being out in front. Now, I believe it starts by being in the middle of the room, helping everyone feel like they can build something sacred together.

If You’re Still Wondering

If you’ve ever been curious about becoming to a Rabbi—but weren’t sure you’d “fit”—I just want to say: you’re exactly who we need. The future of spiritual life depends on people who don’t fit the mold. People like you.

And if you are looking to talk with someone about your spiritual life, I am here!

If you’re holding big questions, or looking for someone to talk to who won’t judge you, I’m here. No pressure. Just presence.