Uncategorized
Reclaiming the Rabbinate: Why This Moment Demands Moral Seriousness and Urgent Action
The interior of Geneva’s main synagogue. Photo: Geneva Jewish community
Three years ago, a mid-sized Conservative synagogue in the Midwest began searching for a new senior rabbi. The search committee received 42 applications. Not one candidate combined deep Talmudic learning with congregational experience. Most were second-career professionals with limited textual fluency. Several had never led a community through a full Jewish calendar year. The committee eventually hired a capable rabbi, but the search exposed something deeper: the pipeline of traditionally-formed Jewish leaders is running dry.
This is not an isolated incident. It is a pattern. And now we have the data to prove it.
The newly released Atra report, “From Calling to Career: Mapping the Current State and Future of Rabbinic Leadership,” is the most comprehensive study of the American rabbinate in a generation. It offers something rare in Jewish communal life: clarity. We now know who today’s rabbis are, how they are formed, and what the next generation will look like. The portrait is sobering. But it also reveals an extraordinary opportunity, if we have the courage to seize it.
This moment could mark not the decline of rabbinic authority, but its renewal. Everything depends on what we do next.
At the Crossroads
The numbers tell a consequential story. There are approximately 4,100 non-Haredi rabbis currently serving in the United States. Only six percent are under 35, while more than a quarter are over 65. The long-anticipated retirement wave is cresting. At the same time, the pathway into the rabbinate has fundamentally shifted. Many new rabbis now enter as second-career professionals — often with limited immersion in traditional Jewish learning and communal life.
Why does this matter? Because rabbinic formation isn’t simply professional training. It is the transmission of a civilization.
Rabbis formed young develop textual fluency that becomes second nature. They absorb communal norms through years of apprenticeship. They build mentorship relationships that span decades. They learn to think in Jewish categories before the default assumptions of secular culture take root. They spend Shabbat after Shabbat in communities, watching master rabbis navigate conflict, comfort the mourning, inspire the indifferent. This kind of formation cannot be replicated in a compressed professional program, no matter how well-designed.
Second-career rabbis bring valuable life experience — maturity, professional skills, perspective that comes only with age. These gifts are real. But when second-career entry becomes the dominant pathway rather than one pathway among several, something essential is lost: the deep grammar of Jewish thought and practice that has sustained our people through every upheaval.
To its credit, the Atra report highlights rabbis’ enduring sense of calling. Ninety-seven percent report that their work remains meaningful. This devotion is real and admirable. Yet many also speak of unclear expectations, emotional strain, and insufficient institutional support. The rabbinate increasingly resembles a helping profession under strain rather than a moral office grounded in tradition, discipline, and collective purpose.
This is not merely a workforce challenge. It is a civilizational one, for rabbis do not operate in isolation. They shape schools and federations, influence donor priorities, frame communal responses to antisemitism, and articulate the public moral voice of American Jewry. When rabbinic authority weakens or when it becomes culturally detached from the communities it serves, the entire ecosystem of Jewish institutional life feels the strain.
Formation, Not Demographics, Is Destiny
The next generation of rabbis will look markedly different from previous ones. Among current rabbinical students, 58 percent identify as women and 51 percent identify as LGBTQ+, with a significant portion identifying as trans or nonbinary. Many come from non-traditional Jewish backgrounds — converts, children of intermarriage, Jews who found their way to serious practice later in life.
These demographic shifts are inevitable and, in many ways, enriching. A diverse rabbinate that reflects the breadth of Jewish experience can strengthen our communities. The question is not who enters the rabbinate, but how they are formed.
A diverse rabbinate formed in deep textual literacy, halachic fluency, and communal responsibility will serve the Jewish people brilliantly. A diverse rabbinate formed primarily through ideological conformity and therapeutic training will not. The issue isn’t identity. It’s formation. It has always been.
Religious leadership cannot long endure when it becomes unmoored from the moral instincts, lived traditions, and covenantal expectations of the communities it serves. A rabbinate shaped more by the ideological grammar of elite secular culture than by the rhythms of Jewish religious life will struggle to command authority, inspire loyalty, or sustain continuity — no matter how sincere or well-intentioned its members.
Judaism has always thrived on creative tension: between past and present, law and compassion, authority and humility, particularism and universalism. The best rabbis hold these tensions with grace. They can advocate for change while honoring tradition. They can welcome the stranger while maintaining boundaries. They can engage contemporary questions without flattening either the questions or the tradition. But this capacity doesn’t emerge naturally. It must be formed — through years of study, through apprenticeship with master teachers, through sustained immersion in communities where these tensions are lived rather than theorized.
What Excellence Looks Like
Before charting the path forward, we must envision the destination. What would a renewed rabbinate actually look like?
Imagine rabbis who combine the textual fluency of traditional yeshiva training with genuine pastoral sensitivity. Who can navigate both Talmudic argumentation and congregational politics with equal skill. Who arrive in communities not to affirm what’s trending, but to guide toward what’s enduring. Who lead with moral authority earned through learning, humility, and years of service.
This isn’t nostalgia. It’s the future Jewish life requires.
And we already see it emerging. There are communities where young, traditionally-trained rabbis are revitalizing Jewish life through serious learning and warm welcome. There are synagogues where Torah study, social justice, and ritual observance reinforce rather than contradict each other. There are day schools where rabbis teach with both intellectual rigor and deep care for students’ spiritual lives, and campus settings where rabbis offer students substantive Judaism — not watered-down platitudes — and find eager audiences hungry for depth.
The Orthodox Invitation
This brings us to the most consequential omission in the Atra report: the absence of Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary (RIETS) from full participation.
Founded in 1896, RIETS has been the backbone of Modern Orthodox rabbinic life in America for over a century. It ordains approximately 50 rabbis annually — a significant portion of the Orthodox rabbinate. Its graduates populate synagogues, day schools, and communal institutions across the country. They embody a leadership model rooted not in expressive identity, but in disciplined obligation: years of intensive Talmud and halachic study, rigorous preparation for pastoral work, and formation within a tradition that sees the rabbinate as a sacred responsibility rather than a personal calling alone.
Yet RIETS did not fully participate in the Atra study. Its student data was estimated rather than integrated. Its voice was muted. This omission distorts our understanding of the American rabbinate and inadvertently shifts the perceived center of gravity toward institutions more aligned with progressive formation models.
But absence is not destiny. And critique can become an invitation.
This is RIETS’ moment. For over a century, it has quietly trained rabbis who embody halachic seriousness and communal service. Now, it has the opportunity to demonstrate publicly what rigorous traditional formation produces: not rigidity, but resilience. Not narrowness, but depth. Not exclusion, but excellence that genuinely serves diverse communities.
By fully engaging the national conversation about rabbinic leadership, RIETS would provide an essential counterweight — not through opposition, but through demonstration. It would show that there are multiple pathways to rabbinic excellence, and that the path rooted in intensive traditional learning has produced extraordinary leaders for generations.
In an era when data increasingly drives philanthropic priorities and institutional strategy, presence is leadership. Participation is not capitulation to progressive norms — it is stewardship of a vital tradition.
The alternative is to cede the narrative entirely. And that would be a loss not just for Orthodox Jews, but for everyone who believes that Jewish leadership requires both deep learning and moral seriousness.
Building the Future
The Atra report hands us a gift: clarity about where we stand. The data is sobering, but the opportunity is immense. Yet this requires action and courage from multiple actors.
Seminaries and training institutions must reclaim non-negotiable standards. Textual fluency cannot be optional. Every ordained rabbi should be able to navigate a page of Talmud, engage classical commentaries, and ground contemporary questions in traditional sources. This isn’t fundamentalism, it’s literacy.
It’s the difference between a doctor who can read an X-ray and one who cannot. Extended apprenticeship must become standard. Classroom learning must be complemented by years of embedded communal experience. There is no substitute for watching a master rabbi navigate a contentious board meeting, comfort a family in crisis, or inspire a reluctant bar mitzvah student. These skills are caught, not taught.
Seminaries should create exchange programs between institutions. Let students experience different formation models while maintaining their home institution’s standards. Imagine HUC students spending a summer immersed in Talmud study at Yeshiva University — not to change their denominational commitments, but to deepen their textual foundation. Imagine RIETS students learning pastoral counseling from master teachers at the Jewish Theological Seminary. This kind of cross-pollination would strengthen the entire field.
Donors and philanthropic leaders must shift funding from innovation theater to formation infrastructure. The Jewish communal world loves pilot programs and convenings. What we need now is patient capital for the slow work of formation. Endow rabbinic chairs at institutions committed to traditional learning combined with pastoral excellence. Make 10-year commitments, not three-year grants. Create post-ordination fellowships that place newly ordained rabbis in strong communities with master mentors for two or three years before they take senior positions. Fund the apprenticeship model that produces excellence. Fund gap-year programs in Israel and intensive pre-seminary preparation. Give talented 35-year-olds considering a career change the resources to spend a year studying Talmud seriously before they apply to rabbinical school.
And measure what matters. Ask grant recipients not about diversity metrics or innovation buzzwords, but about textual competency, communal integration, and long-term placement success. One major philanthropist could transform the field by endowing a fund that provides significant annual support to institutions meeting rigorous standards for traditional learning, pastoral training, and placement support, regardless of denomination.
Communities and search committees must become more sophisticated consumers of rabbinic talent. During interviews, probe beyond résumés and talking points. Ask candidates to walk you through their approach to teaching a page of Talmud to diverse audiences. Ask how their formation prepared them to navigate tensions between tradition and change. Ask about their longest mentorship relationship and what they learned from it. Ask what it means to be a link in the chain of Jewish tradition.
An Urgent Call
The American rabbinate stands at a crossroads. One path leads toward continued fragmentation: rabbinic training driven by ideological fashion, second-career professionals with limited formation, institutions talking past each other, and communities unsure what excellence even looks like.
The other path leads toward renewal. Seminaries committed to both traditional learning and pastoral care. Donors funding formation rather than innovation. RIETS and other serious institutions leading publicly. Communities demanding rabbis who are both deeply rooted and genuinely responsive.
We don’t have to choose between tradition and inclusion, between excellence and accessibility, between past and future. These are false choices designed to paralyze us. We can have — we must have — rabbis formed in the deep grammar of Jewish thought who can lead diverse communities with wisdom and grace.
The Atra report should be read not as a warning of inevitable decline, but as an invitation to institutional courage. It surfaces truth. And truth creates possibility.
A rabbinate with moral gravity will not simply anchor Jewish life in an unsettled age. It will renew it. It will produce leaders capable of holding both tradition and change with grace. Leaders who can welcome the stranger without abandoning boundaries. Leaders who can engage modernity without being captured by it.
This is not the moment to retreat into tribalism or settle for mediocrity. This is not the moment for hand-wringing or passive resignation. This is the moment to build — not to drift, but to define. Not to mirror culture, but to shape it. Not to manage decline, but to engineer renewal.
The data is clear. The path is visible. The opportunity is now.
All that remains is the will to lead.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.
Uncategorized
She was a dancer who leapt to the top of her field — then the Trump administration fired her
When she walked up to the Kennedy Center on the first day of her internship in 2013, she was Jane Rabinovitz, a recent grad from William & Mary, fresh off a stint as stage manager for an Argentine aerial tango company performing in Miami, and newly determined to forge a career in the arts.
By the time security escorted her out with her personal belongings 12 years later, she was Jane (Rabinovitz) Raleigh, a veteran employee who’d risen in the ranks to become director of dance programming. In August, she and her small team were fired amidst the upheaval fomented by President Donald Trump, who in his second term has installed himself as Kennedy Center chairman and attempted to reshape the institution.
The team was dismissed on a Thursday. By Monday, the center announced its new dance director: former Washington Ballet dancer Stephen Nakagawa. Raleigh was hardly shocked. She’d known since early March about the letter Nakagawa had sent to Richard Grenell, the center’s new president, praising Trump and lamenting “radical leftist ideologies” and the “rise of ‘woke’ culture” in the ballet world.
For six months, Raleigh saw firsthand that “what was happening inside of the Kennedy Center very much mirrored the general chaos that was happening in the government, the DOGE experience that people were having,” she told me over Zoom from her home in D.C. “You’re watching the chess pieces be moved around the board, but it’s people’s lives.”
“There was definitely an overarching feeling of waiting for the shoe to drop,” Raleigh said. “I was committed to staying until I was removed,” she added. But “I did believe from the beginning that everyone would be fired at some point.”
When her time came, the choreography felt familiar. “The cadence of it mirrored what had been happening at the center for many months,” she said. In some cases, entire teams were erased and their programs sunset. In other cases, like hers, “the leader would be fired, and then one, two, or three days later, a new person would just show up.” Often, she said, that person had some connection to Trump or Grenell. (Grenell and the Kennedy Center press office have not responded to multiple requests for comment.)
In the five or seven minutes Raleigh said it took for her and her two assistant managers to be fired, she was informed that this move was the result of “a loss of confidence in my leadership and a loss of confidence in the team’s ability to align with leadership’s vision.”
According to Raleigh, Grenell had communicated that vision in a meeting only the previous week, suggesting they present more “broadly appealing” programming in the vein of So You Think You Can Dance or Paula Abdul. She left the conversation with “a directive to start exploring more commercial offerings,” and immediately began reaching out to agents to pursue it. But before she had a chance to share a proposal, the team was out.
“I didn’t really have a chance to even try,” she said.
From Purim spiels and horas to a career in the arts
Raleigh was born in Washington, D.C., and raised just across the river in Virginia by her Jewish father — that’s the Rabinovitz — and her Catholic mother. Theirs was a mixed household, like the one Raleigh now shares with her husband, who grew up Catholic. But her parents decided to raise their kids Jewish and joined Temple Rodef Shalom, a reform synagogue in Falls Church, Virginia.
A language lover and future Spanish major, Raleigh “ate up” Hebrew school lessons, even “practicing writing secret notes in Hebrew to myself,” she said. She connected to her Jewish community primarily through the arts. She sang in the youth choir and later became a founding member of the teen choir, Kol Machar. And for many years she performed in the Purim spiels her dad wrote and directed as a hobby. One year when she was in college, the woman playing Esther dropped out of the Tarzan-themed Purim spiel at the last minute. “My dad called me,” she recalled, “and he was like, either you can be Esther or I’m gonna have to be Esther.”
Raleigh danced a formative hora at her bat mitzvah and another at her wedding a few years ago. “The hora and Jewish artistic experiences have always been a moment to blend my Jewish life and my secular life,” said Raleigh.
In her secular life, she trained seriously in ballet. She minored in dance at William & Mary, led the student dance company, and interned one summer at the American Dance Festival. Soon after graduation, she decided to pursue a career in the arts instead. She grew up going to the Kennedy Center frequently, so that’s where she went.
Her path there led from intern all the way up to dance director. Raleigh curated ballet seasons and contracted, budgeted, and presented both ballet and contemporary dance with an eye toward exposing audiences to a broader variety of work. She brought in Alonzo King LINES Ballet from San Francisco for their Kennedy Center debut in 2024, for example, introducing audiences familiar with classical, narrative productions to a more contemporary vision of ballet by an important living artist.
Raleigh says she felt lucky to put the center’s ample resources to use to support local and emerging artists and present some of the world’s best companies in a worthy setting. “I frequently would have striking moments of realization sitting in the Opera House, when the curtains would go up on shows that I’d be working on,” she said.
“That sense of wonder,” she added, “does not go away.”
A Trump tailspin
Trump took little interest in the Kennedy Center during his first term. He never attended performances back then, Raleigh said, though his daughter Ivanka Trump frequently came to the ballet. Like other presidents before him, he did appoint new members to the historically bipartisan board; Raleigh said she worked closely over the years with a few who were “real ballet supporters.” Unlike his predecessors, Trump repeatedly skipped the annual Kennedy Center Honors.
“We had lived through a previous term, so there was certainly no expectation that anything would be different,” Raleigh said. Until Trump posted on social media in February, shortly after his second inauguration, announcing his intentions to take over as chairman, oust board members, and shake up programming in order to “make the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. GREAT AGAIN” and usher in “a Golden Age in Arts and Culture.”
Raleigh found out about Trump’s plan when the public did. At first, she didn’t give it much credence — Trump had said a lot of things during his first administration that he hadn’t acted upon, she said. However, it quickly became clear he would follow through this time, and it “put everybody into a tailspin.”
The purge began immediately. Several board members and longtime chair David Rubenstein were dismissed and replaced by Trump and his appointees. Center president Deborah Rutter was removed after an 11-year tenure, to be succeeded by Grenell.
“Every single day you would come in and be like, what will have happened today?” Raleigh said. A pattern emerged where “basically every payday Friday was mass firings day.” Sometimes it was three people, she remembered, and sometimes 20. Those waves of dismissals were “the most chaotic, traumatic, repeatedly painful thing.”
In response to the uncertainty and upheaval, staff at the Kennedy Center began working to form a union. “The Kennedy Center’s new management has communicated its intention to radically alter the Center’s programming priorities, eliminate staff, and dismantle our mission-essential programs,” the union website states. “We no longer believe our institution trusts us and we no longer trust our institution.” Raleigh said her team participated in the organizing effort — which members hoped would help them fight to protect jobs, working conditions, creative autonomy, and more — and she was vocal in backing it.
When she and her team were notified around 11:40 a.m. on Aug. 21 of a meeting that was to take place in the HR suite five minutes later, they knew what was coming. It took just a few minutes for HR and legal to fire them and hand over their termination paperwork, Raleigh recalled.
On the way back to their desks, Raleigh and her team sent a few texts to share the news and “staff from every corner of the building” showed up, as they had done for others so many times by then. They had an hour to say goodbye, get their things, and get out.
Suddenly jobless, they set up at her apartment, divvied up the list of artists they were presenting in the upcoming season, and called them all to share the unfortunate update. It felt particularly difficult to digest the fact that they couldn’t be behind the scenes to support the performances scheduled to take place that weekend as part of the center’s local dance commissioning project. “The piece was about how Black women can support other Black women and femmes to have rest and resilience in the world,” Raleigh said. Without a team, they worried, “Who’s going to take care of this piece of art?”
Next steps
Raleigh’s fears extend beyond the Kennedy Center. She told me she’s concerned about the fate of dance and the arts in the face of the “dismantling, essentially, of the NEA” by the Trump administration and recent shifts by key arts funders, with reports that longtime supporters like the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, Doris Duke Foundation, and Ford Foundation are now focusing on other priorities. And all this while arts organizations are still recovering from the pandemic’s crushing blow.
“The dance field has not been in a moment of incredible glory and surplus in my entire lifetime,” Raleigh said. So while the current state of affairs is “horrible,” perhaps “this is a moment for us to be thinking about what are new ways and new paths that we can chart going forward.”
Since her departure from the Kennedy Center, she’s been focused not only on the search for a new full-time job, but also on launching the DC Dance Network. It’s an effort to connect artists to resources and one another. “If we want to build a better fabric, a more supportive fabric, of the dance community nationally, why not start at the tiniest, most local version?” said Raleigh, whose fledgling organization announced its first commission in early November.
Living through the turmoil at the Kennedy Center and witnessing the tumult in the government “has totally transformed my approach to community, my approach to what it means to be a good neighbor,” Raleigh said. “This idea is very Jewish, that we’re commanded to do mitzvot so that we have the opportunity to do more in the future, that we’re compelled to repair the world through tikkun olam. All of that has really been informed from my Jewish childhood.”
She’s stayed in touch with her former colleagues and the union and participated in advocacy efforts. She was part of a group that showed up at the Kennedy Center to personally deliver a petition with more than 1,600 signatures collected by Hands Off the Arts demanding the organization reinstate wrongfullly terminated employees, recognize the union, and more. “They’re not getting off the hook,” she said.
Raleigh is waiting to see what kind of dance season, if any, the Kennedy Center announces for 2026-27. It remains to be seen which companies will agree to perform there and whether audiences will attend. In the meantime, Raleigh’s been heartened to see that none of her programming — which runs through June 2026 — seems to have been changed or canceled.
And she’s returned as a spectator, back in the seats where she fell in love with the arts as a kid. In October, she went to see the Stuttgart Ballet perform at the Kennedy Center for the first time in more than 30 years. At the first intermission, the older woman sitting next to her — who said she’d seen the company during their last visit — turned to Raleigh and said, “Isn’t this amazing?!”
“In that moment, we were just audience members having the same transformative experience at the ballet,” Raleigh said. “She clearly didn’t know who I was,” Raleigh added, and “I just got to revel in the ballet with her.”
The post She was a dancer who leapt to the top of her field — then the Trump administration fired her appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Northwestern agrees to pay $75M, void encampment deal to end Trump’s antisemitism investigation
(JTA) — Northwestern University will pay $75 million to the Trump administration to recover nearly $800 million in federal funding frozen by an ongoing antisemitism investigation, in the second-largest agreement of its kind.
The deal, which will last for three years, also means the Chicago-area private university will no longer abide by an earlier agreement it struck with pro-Palestinian protesters that included a commitment to dedicate space on campus for Muslim and North African students.
“The cost of a legal fight was too high and the risks too grave,” the offices of Northwestern’s interim president Henry Bienen posted in a lengthy statement explaining why the school capitulated to Trump’s demands. “If our $790 million in federal research funding remained frozen, the freeze threatened to gut our labs, drive away faculty, and set back entire fields of discovery. Our overarching goal is to protect people and preserve the institution, and to enable life-saving research to continue.”
Northwestern’s deal with the Trump administration was announced late Friday, the day after Thanksgiving.
“The Northwestern agreement is a huge win for current and future Northwestern students, alumni, faculty, and for the future of American higher education,” Education Secretary Linda McMahon said in a statement praising the agreement. “The deal cements policy changes that will protect students and other members of the campus from harassment and discrimination, and it recommits the school to merit-based hiring and admissions.”
Northwestern is the sixth university to strike an agreement with the Trump administration to end investigations and free up federal funding; its payout is second only to Columbia’s $221 million. Trump’s team has continued to apply pressure on schools like Harvard and UCLA to compel them to sign similar agreements. Critics of the agreements have compared them to shakedowns, questioned their relevance to fighting antisemitism, and claimed they threaten academic freedom.
Northwestern denied that final allegation, with Bienen stating, “Northwestern runs Northwestern.” Yet the terms of the agreement also address other conservative culture-war topics unrelated to antisemitism, including policies on race-based hiring and transgender athletes.
Unique to Northwestern’s deal is its voiding of what the school refers to as the earlier “Deering Meadow agreement” with its protesters, which dated back to 2024. The school’s former president Michael Schill, who is Jewish, had struck the agreement in order to compel the pro-Palestinian encampment to disperse peacefully without involving law enforcement.
Schill received vociferous criticism from some corners, including Jewish staff and prominent alumni such as Jonathan Greenblatt, who felt the agreement was rewarding antisemitic behavior. He was soon forced to testify before Congress, and this fall stepped down from the presidency.
Now, following the agreement with the Trump administration, Northwestern is no longer offering what had been billed as a temporary space for Muslim and North African students that it created as a result of the encampment agreement, and it is no longer committing to building a promised permanent space for those students.
The school’s leading pro-Palestinian student groups did not immediately respond publicly to the deal with the Trump administration. A request for comment to the school’s Jewish Voice for Peace chapter, which was a member of the encampment coalition that struck the now-invalidated Deering Meadow Agreement, was not immediately returned.
The Chicago Jewish Alliance, the Coalition Against Antisemitism at Northwestern, and other Jewish activist groups praised the agreement. CAAN, a primarily alumni-driven group that also lists Northwestern Hillel and Chabad as partners, thanked what it called “our federal partners” for “their continued commitment to protecting Jewish students and faculty.”
Under the new agreement, Northwestern has agreed to implement a climate survey of the type that has surfaced concerns about antisemitism on other campuses. A detailed section of the agreement dealing with Jewish students reaffirms a host of other policies that the school says it was already implementing, including specific prohibitions on protest activities and on-campus demonstrations. A Jewish advisory council to the president, established after the dissolution of a similar advisory council effort under Schill, will continue as well.
“Over the past two years, Northwestern has implemented numerous measures to strengthen our campus environment: new training requirements, expanded reporting systems and greater support for Jewish students. All of those measures predated this agreement,” the school’s FAQ page states. “Incidents have significantly declined as a result.”
But even following the leadership change, Northwestern’s campus has experienced tensions around antisemitism. This fall a few dozen incoming students refused to take a new mandatory antisemitism training session, saying the framing was “unscholarly” and “morally harmful.” Those students were blocked from enrollment following a federal judge order.
The post Northwestern agrees to pay $75M, void encampment deal to end Trump’s antisemitism investigation appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
How a troublemaking private school dropout became the Johnny Appleseed of tech
David Lerner was a difficult mensch.
Lerner passed away on Nov. 12 at the age of 72 and in the days that followed some who were close to the man recounted his kindnesses but they also used the word “difficult” to describe him.
“He was a difficult man but he was still my guy,” his wife Lorren Erstad told me.
Jan Albert, who met Lerner when they were both teenagers volunteering at the countercultural radio station WBAI, posted on Facebook: “I will always remember David for his immense generosity and the fact that he was an unfailingly fair and ethical (if difficult) human being.”
And Harold Berkowitz, who volunteered with Lerner at the Lifelong Peer Learning Program (LP2), offered perhaps the most eloquent description of how he was difficult. Berkowitz wrote that Lerner was “gruff but kind, curmudgeonly but sweet, blunt but tactful, modest yet very knowing.”
As for the mensch that was David Lerner, Ruth Mackaman, another LP2 volunteer, recalled that during the COVID lockdown Lerner got the organization up and running on Zoom, then shelled out his own money to buy iPads for at least ten members who didn’t have computers. He then proceeded to pedal around Manhattan and Brooklyn on a Citibike and give them away. This prompted one of his friends to joke about Lerner being the Johnny Appleseed of tech.
From time to time, Lerner would ask me about the radio stories I was working on. When I told him I had just finished a piece about a young woman in the South Bronx afflicted with cerebral palsy who had no voluntary movement of her arms and legs, the Johnny Appleseed of tech sent her a new iPad.
He was a baal tzedakah, a master of charity, and lived his life by the most important line in our holy texts: Justice, justice, thou shalt seek. The line comes from the Torah, specifically the Book of Deuteronomy, chapter 16, verse 20. Go look it up.
Most New Yorkers know Lerner from Tekserve, the independent Macintosh computer store he cofounded in Chelsea and helped to run for close to 30 years. Over the course of that time the business grew from occupying half of his partner Dick Demenus’ loft to a cavernous 25,000-square-foot storefront on West 23rd Street.
After news of Lerner’s passing reached them, former Tekserve employees and customers all over these United States shared memories of Lerner the mensch online. Former Tekserve workers thanked Lerner for being such an uncommon boss. And not just because he and Demenus provided health insurance and free lunch to their employees.
One Tekserve alum recalled that when his father passed away, Lerner offered to cover his airfare to North Dakota to spread the man’s ashes. Another who now runs a store in Scranton, PA wrote: “He taught me more about business than anyone.” A former Tekserve customer praised Lerner for dispensing advice on the NY Macintosh Users Group (NYMUG) bulletin board before the web existed. Another remembered that Tekserve printed and gave away the booklets Lerner wrote with answers to Frequently Asked Questions about keeping a Mac running.
Perhaps Lerner’s Tekserve partner Demenus put it best in a poem he wrote and posted on Facebook — “So many of us have counted on you for so much.”
Lerner and Demenus ran Tekserve as a capitalist enterprise — in 2011, the store had $100 million in revenue from sales and services — but the impact of their years at WBAI was apparent in the diversity of Tekserve’s workforce.
In the 1970’s, WBAI was housed in a church where it became home to a bunch of Jewish troublemakers. Bob Fass, who helped start the Yippies, referred to his radio audience as “The Cabal.” Margot Adler, the granddaughter of Austrian psychotherapist Alfred Adler, went to Mississippi to register African-American voters during the civil rights movement. And the Yeshiva of Flatbush graduate Paul Fischer anchored the station’s legendary Vietnam War summary before moving on to write for Dan Rather at CBS.
In 1969, Lerner dropped out of an elite private school on the Upper West Side and joined the fun at WBAI. He was 16 at the time. He and Demenus worked out of the tiny engineering office at the church which was identified by a sign that read “Department of Redundancy Department.” Back then, the only thing to indicate that Lerner was another troublemaker was the letter of reprimand sent to his parents from the management of the Peter Cooper Village housing complex. Young David was cited for unauthorized use of a water gun on the premises. The framed letter hung on the wall of his Manhattan apartment many years later.
There is no doubt that there are some who feel that it was a subversive act to run a profitable business like Tekserve and treat your workers like they were family.
Derek Davis, who started the pro audio division at Tekserve and is now the head archery coach at Columbia University, described Lerner as “the most honest and fair person” he has ever worked for. The day Davis came into the store for an interview Lerner hired him on the spot.
“It was years later,” Davis wrote on Facebook, “that I figured out that David wasn’t hiring workers. He was hiring family members.
David Lerner sent financial support to an eclectic assortment of non-profits. He contributed to the Hebrew Free Loan Association and, it turns out The Forward. But his wife Lorren said his favorite charity was the Catholic Worker, which may seem an odd entity for a Jew to support.
But Lerner knew that the Catholic Worker fed, sheltered and clothed the poor less than a mile away from his West Village home.
A memorial for David Lerner will take place on Dec. 8 at Poster House, the museum that now occupies Tekserve’s home on West 23rd Street.
When a Jew like David Lerner leaves us, it is customary to say May his memory be a blessing.
The expression comes from the Book of Proverbs 10:7. Go look it up.
The post How a troublemaking private school dropout became the Johnny Appleseed of tech appeared first on The Forward.