Thread by @Doc_RPS

I know a fair amount about New York State law for hiring and firing clergy. I know a fair amount about shul politics. This is not a thread about those. So about the rebbetzin-ate, and what it is to inhabit and lose that role, and my heart goes out to @avitalrachel, a thread:

(I get to decide what this thread is for, and what it is isn't. Will viciously block anyone who brings any ugly into this thread. Not interested; not having it. You don't like it, start your own.)

I've spoken--publicly, in my shul, in my then-role as a rebbetzin--about how strange the role is. A job you get with no training or preparation, by virtue of your ketubah. (2/n)

And while some rabbis' wives have renounced the role, and some shuls have come to see that expecting unpaid labor from rabbis' wives is archaic (at best), in a lot of places, it is still what is. Even if the rabbi's wife in question has a whole other professional life. (3/n)

(Also, too, if you're saying "But the shul pays for their housing/tuition/household help/etc.", welcome to rabbinic contracts in the 21st century, certainly in many places. My shul paid for none of those for my family. I rebbetzined anyway.) (4/n)

Please do not misunderstand. I loved and love my shul community; I am no longer a rebbetzin but am still a regular mitpallelet and now dues-paying-member. I actually enjoyed the role. I'm just sharing the reality. (5/n)

So, without salary or training, and despite other responsibilities, you do the work. The hosting. The teaching. The listening and guiding (and referring for counseling, when it's way above your pay grade.) (6/n)

The inevitable political navigating. (7/n)

But it's not your job. Not your contract. And that means that you can lose a role and a community that you invested in, not just with no control over what happens (the rabbi may not have much of that, either), but just as collateral damage. (8/n)

There is real pain and loss in that, and no place to put it. You didn't lose a job--you never had one. But you may have lost a home (spiritual and physical) and a community. And you certainly lost a role and place that you'd been working to fill for years. (9/n)

When there is speculation about (or hard evidence of) rabbinic misconduct, the rebbetzin absorbs some of the blame, whether or not she made the choices or knew about them. I spoke at length to a woman in this position. I can't even imagine. (10/n)

I could be making a political point here (if we hired and paid women for clergy/clergy-adjacent work, this could at least somewhat more transparent, intentional, and maybe even fair and respectful [although obviously, rabbis, too, are not always treated fairly and respectfully.])

But I'm not, right now. I'm just sharing what it feels like to invest a decade of your life in a role you weren't trained or hired for, but married into, tried to fill as well as you could, and then lost for reasons entirely beyond your control. (12/n)

I was very fortunate in that in losing my rebbetzinate I did not lose my shul community. Some former rebbetzins, given their circumstances, do. I have other jobs and roles. I have more than enough other upheaval in my life to keep me occupied. (13/n)

But in reading this story, that's what sits with me. Not the shul politics, the speculations about who-did-what-right-or-wrong, the violations of New York State law. The putting a decade of your life into a role, when you certainly had other things to put it into. (14/n)

And then losing it.

Not on the basis of choices you made, or actions you took.

Because the role may have demanding, and time-consuming--but it was never yours to begin with.

The loss, though. The loss is yours. And in the noise, the loss is what I'm thinking about. (15/15.)