David Wirtschafter’s rabbinical rite-of-passage took two minutes.
Five years ago, Peninsula Temple Sholom’s new associate rabbi was in the midst of researching Bay Area wedding locations, when he flicked on the tube — a mundane act that will forever be seared in his consciousness.
It was November 1995, and the aspiring rabbi flopped down on a bed next to his fiancée, Shana Sippy, punched the remote control and incredulously watched as the news of Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination flickered across the screen.
“For members of our generation, it was like the Kennedy assassination,” said Wirtschafter. “Everyone can remember exactly where they were, and what they were doing.”
The neophyte rabbi, then two years away from ordination, was suddenly called upon to assuage community grief in the New Hampshire synagogue where he served as an assistant clergy member.
“I helped coordinate a huge interfaith service at the synagogue in New Hampshire where I was a student rabbi,” recalled Wirtschafter. “And at that moment in time, it hit me that all the talk about a worldwide Jewish community wasn’t just rhetoric — it’s very real.
“The Jewish people are united in times of joy and crisis, and when something happens in one community, it affects the other communities,” he continued. “There was definitely a sense of belonging to something bigger that day — a feeling of Jewishness that cut across all denominations.”
The day that Rabin was assassinated might have crystallized the concept of a Jewish community for the 30-year-old rabbi, but his path to the rabbinate had been mapped out long before that — through several different time zones.
Wirtschafter was born in Lexington, Ky., grew up in Minneapolis, attended college at Brandeis University near Boston and went through seminary training at the New York campus of the Reform Movement’s Hebrew Union College.
“All the hodge-podge of places I’ve lived have left their mark,” admitted Wirtschafter, who began working at the Peninsula synagogue in July. “It’s kind of tough to guess where I’m from.”
Wirtschafter’s path to the rabbinate was much more clear-cut.
A trip to Israel when he was 15 imbued him with a love of “progressive Zionism” — qualities that had already been fostered by his parents. In addition to a love for Israel, his parents also gave their son a strong sense of social justice.
“My greatest role models are my parents,” said the Burlingame resident, who became a father himself two months ago when his son Zahariah (Hebrew for “God remembers”) was born.
“They raised all their kids with a healthy dose of intellectual curiosity, and a big emphasis on giving back to the community.”
Wirtschafter’s father, a physician, and his mother, who was programming director for the local Jewish Community Relations Council, raised five children with an abiding interest in tikkun olam, or healing the world.
One of Wirtschafter’s three brothers works with the Environmental Protection Agency in San Francisco, and another works in Marysville (outside Sacramento) as a public defender. The other two siblings, while not employed in advocacy occupations, often volunteer to a variety of causes.
“Being a rabbi is a synthesis of everything I like to do in life,” said Wirtschafter. “It provides a great forum for social justice, a unique opportunity to study Jewish texts, and allows me to give counsel in times of great happiness or grief.”
Gun control is an issue that Wirtschafter not only feels passionate about, but also has first-hand experience with. The father of a childhood friend was shot to death during an argument nearly two decades ago and the tragedy still shapes his perspectives on gun-control debates.
“When gun-control laws are as liberal as they are, nobody’s free from danger, even when they live in a so-called ‘safe area'” said Wirtschafter. “The proudest moment I’ve felt as a member of the Reform Movement, is when Eric Yoffie [the head of Union of American Hebrew Congregations] stood up and spoke at the Million Mom March. That moment sent chills up my spine.”
But lest anyone think that Wirtschafter doesn’t take an opportunity to savor life’s lighter moments, he offers up a scholarly defense.
“I wrote my rabbinical thesis on the Book of Jonah, and basically called the whole thing a romantic comedy,” he said. “It was one of my finer moments.”