Conversely, if a rabbi wants to date outside the community, the answer to the question, “and what do you do for a living?” can raise eyebrows and, dare I say, be a turn off.
It was with these thoughts and other questions in mind that I recently invited the country’s seven other rabbi couples to my home in Oxford for a get-together. In the event, not everyone could make it – this one had a wedding booked, that one a stone-setting – but six of us were there (a rabble of rabbis?) and we talked and talked, mostly about how adamant we were that we had made the right marital choice.
Another explanation for marrying a fellow minister is that it can be tricky for rabbis to go out with someone from their own community
“Who else could I discuss Buber with over breakfast and Talmud over tea?” said one. “Only if you’re in this job can you can appreciate the demands on your time, and both make allowances for it and help draw boundaries to protect family life,” said another.
But there were mixed views on the effect of a rabbinical marriage on the the couple’s children. Two couples, including us, said our children had enjoyed being the centre of communal life growing up, not least the pleasure of having hundreds of honorary aunts and uncles – and fun babysitters.
But the other couple said their children had not welcomed “living life in a goldfish bowl with everyone knowing everything about you.” There was also, they said, the downside of relative strangers feeling they own you and, when you were small, demanding a cuddle at kiddush. It could feel, they said, like a game of “pass the human parcel”.
And there were strong feelings over expectations of good behaviour and religious piety while growing up. Some children can shrug it off, but others resent it and wish they had “ordinary parents.”
On the other hand, it was agreed that having a choice of two synagogues – Mum’s shul or Dad’s – was a good thing. The children got to see two communities in action and to appreciate different styles of rabbinic leadership.
And we all agreed that careful planning of family life was crucial. Unlike other couples who tend to have evenings and weekends together – when my children were little, I pretty much had communal commitments every night of the week – rabbis need to put “family time” into the diary.
Interestingly, all of us had at some point been asked: will your children also become rabbis?
Rabbis Larry and Jackie Tabick were able to confirm that two of their offspring had indeed entered the rabbinate, and that they were pleased about it.
For my part, I have tended to push back at the question, even while my kids were small saying, “I didn’t go into my father’s job, so why should they?” And, in the event, none of them have followed in our rabbinical footsteps, although one is an actor and another has gone into advertising, both professions which, if you think about it, require skills that the rabbinate does too.
And what of the stresses on the marital relationship? Despite the conventional wisdom about rabbis being “invisible six days a week and unintelligible on the seventh”, most of us tend to work 24/7. As well as leading services and teaching classes, we spend an enormous amount of time on pastoral work. When there are two of you doing that, how does the marriage survive?
Well, none of the eight couples have got divorced, and it’s hardly news that there have been splits in marriages where only partner is a rabbi, and plenty when neither is, of course. What’s the secret? Our unity of purpose?
One couple waggishly suggested it was because rabbinic couples see each other less than regular ones and “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. Another posited it is because we have less time to argue! And that includes workplace arguments: we all have our own congregations.
In fact, everyone felt that if both partners served the same community, it would be probably be easy to fall out over a missed appointment or an unanswered email, not to mention the danger of congregants playing one of us off against the other.
Having a choice of two shuls – Mum’s or Dad’s – was good thing. Children learn to appreciate different styles of leadership
As it is, we often share sermon ideas and shape them together midweek – even if we then deliver them in our own way on Shabbat. Or, in the words of one female rabbi: “I read what my husband is preaching for his congregation and then improve it!”
And how does rabbinical marriage affect the rabbis’ congregations? On the plus side, it was agreed, the rabbi has the benefit of ongoing rabbinic support from their spouse, which is very important, as it can be a lonely job.
On the minus side, they don’t have a rebbetzin, as he or she is usually with their own congregation.
Still, as many Progressive rabbis are nowadays married to someone with their own profession, the role of rebbetzin – the “two for the price of one” phenomenon – is in decline anyway.
Finally, will Britain’s rabbinic couples be meeting again some time soon? Certainly. Both to include those who could not make our first ever gathering, and because it was such fun comparing marital notes.
Jonathan Romain is Convenor of the Reform Beit Din
Jonathan and Sybil at their wedding in 1981[Missing Credit]
Jonathan and Sybil under the chupah in 1981[Missing Credit]