My father was a lawyer by trade — but a rabbi at heart
“Your father is a lawyer and a rav?” asked a friend once. “How did you win any arguments when you were a kid?”
Easy. I talked to my mother.
In all seriousness, I don’t think I ever fully processed how busy my father’s life was until he was hospitalized a few years ago. In between doctors stepping in (a suspicious number of them from his kehillah instead of the hospital) and organizing minyanim on the hospital porch, he had his laptop out, compiling briefs.
When we were younger, the neighborhood used to joke that the rav slept with a Bluetooth in his ear. He was available at all times — a call from a struggling teen at 3 a.m., a meeting with a couple at 10 p.m., shiurim every single night. And somehow, between all that, he managed to squeeze in the law.
I say squeeze in because that’s always been his mentality. The law is a job, a way to preserve justice in this world. But being a rav? That’s life.
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