When I moved from the UK to Israel 10 years ago I knew that, at least professionally, there would be both pros and cons.
I had always been a passionate Zionist and had only stayed in the UK given my interest in working in its schools and rabbinate. A graduate of the Montefiore Kollel, I had led services and given sermons at Lauderdale Road Synagogue while studying for my semichah.
But I was not fully convinced the rabbinate was for me, and while I had already served as head of Jewish studies in two secondary schools, I had no interest in becoming a headteacher. A fresh start beckoned in Israel.
After we made aliyah, I started to teach in various seminaries but I also worked as a Jewish education consultant for a number of organisations in the UK, making regular visits as a scholar-in-residence as I still wanted to maintain my connection to the community. That led to regularly writing and posting creative Torah insights on social media.
Over the years my online followers grew both in the UK and globally. As someone who had produced hundreds of curricular resources and delivered countless shiurim, Jewish educators knew I would be willing to assist with material.
At the same time, because I understood some of the challenges of being a community rabbi, and because I had the distance and perspective to see things differently, I became an informal mentor and coach to numerous rabbis and educators.
Even before making aliyah, I had assisted people with halachic queries. What became increasingly clear was that while I was blessed to grow up in a community with a rabbi — Dayan Gershon Lopian — who made himself available to answer all sorts of halachic queries, most people unfortunately did not have the same opportunity.
Some did not feel ideologically aligned with their rabbi, while at the same time many shuls, especially in Israel, were not led by rabbis, leaving men and women, to paraphrase the words of Moses, “like sheep without a shepherd”.
And so as my online Torah productivity increased, so did the men, women and couples — from Israel, Europe and the US — who sought my advice in matters of halachah and spirituality.
“Ask the Rabbi” websites have been around for a long time, but while these sites serve a purpose, this was not the way I had been trained to respond to halachic queries. Halachah is considerate of situation and circumstance and anonymous questioners can rarely convey that. Certain halachic questions often suggest far more complex dynamics at play, which can only be identified and addressed through dialogue.
It was also quite clear to me that the modern Jew needed to be empowered by — and feel that they are engaged within — the halachic process, rather than simply be told what to do.
It was at this point that I coined the term #theVirtualRabbi and created the framework that might enable men, women and couples to receive the guidance they were looking for.
Firstly, I linked my website to Calendly and to my Google Calendar, so that when someone booked a session with me online, it was at a time of their convenience and my availability.
Secondly, I was aware that if someone were to call with a problem I could not answer, they might feel frustrated that they had wasted their time. So when someone books a session, they are invited to answer a few questions online such as, “What would you like to discuss in our session?” and, “Is there anything you think I should know about you before our session?”. This means that ahead of every session I have considered the issue before we’ve even begun and prepared a handout of relevant sources on that topic, which often becomes a reference point in our conversation.
Thirdly, I wanted to change the language we use about rabbinic guidance. Rather than “Ask the Rabbi”, I offer three types of online session: Spiritual Coaching, Halachic Consultation and One-to-one learning. These may overlap but by selecting one, clients are indicating what they are primarily looking for.
Fourthly, all sessions are via Zoom. This not only enables accessibility, but also allows everyone involved to feel relaxed and comfortable while sitting in their home or office.
When a client books a session — which generally lasts an hour — they pay a small fee, and afterwards they receive a follow-up email including the Torah sources and other references that we discussed, along with some suggested steps forward. This model not only allows me to give the necessary time to every person, but it means that no client considers our conversation as being a favour. Instead, this affirms the feeling of empowerment of all those who contact me.
A client could be someone like the mother living in America who, though quite distant from a Jewish community, was interested in beginning a journey towards more religious practice for her and her children. We discussed what Jewish practices she was interested in adopting, what was reasonable to achieve given the limited resources available to her and what it meant to create a Jewishly vibrant home.
A very different example was the rabbi in Europe who was experiencing a form of crisis of faith and needed to talk about his personal relationship with mitzvot to someone with an appreciation of the challenges faced by community rabbis and who would not judge them.
I have regularly been asked to help couples whose religious practice differs from one another and are unsure how to negotiate the fact that their spouse is more religiously demanding, or less religiously inclined. I’m currently assisting one such couple in Israel, where our conversations focus on what it means to create a home where those we love live Judaism differently to us.
My approach may sound modern but what I am trying to do is incredibly traditional: bringing back the possibility of people having deep, uninterrupted conversations with a knowledgeable and sensitive rabbinic guide about issues that matter to them.
It took a while, but I have now become the rabbi I always wanted to be: passionate about teaching Torah, ready to answer halachic questions and committed to helping people.
To find out more, visit rabbijohnnysolomon.com
