You’re a rabbi? What kind of job is that for a nice Jewish boy?”

The implication of the old joke is that our children — nowadays nice Jewish girls as well as boys — can do better in life than going into the rabbinate. With our ingrained immigrant mentality, we want them to be respectable doctors and lawyers. Spending your life at the beck and call of demanding congregants seems thankless by comparison.

But perhaps it’s time to read that joke a little differently. Because all too often, this is not a job which attracts nice Jewish boys and girls. While of course, the majority of rabbis are decent and sincere, there is a long list of rabbis from across the world who are alleged to have behaved badly, with accusations against them running the gamut from “inappropriate associations with a married woman,” right through to financial crimes, sexual abuse, assault and voyeurism (including criminal convictions for former giants like Rabbi Motti Elon and the “peeping rabbi”, Barry Freundel). There are doubtless many cases we don’t know about, with rabbis under suspicion quietly being “moved on” by their communities, sometimes bound by NDAs.

The latest case to hit the headlines is West London Synagogue, which is currently conducting an investigation into allegations of bullying and inappropriate behaviour by Rabbi David Mitchell. Whatever its conclusions (Rabbi Mitchell has denied any wrongdoing), each time the community is shocked anew by such allegations, because rabbis are meant to be religious role models and embody good values. Naughty and nasty rabbis go against our deepest instincts.

But while rabbis are only human and will not always be perfect, two factors make it more — not less — likely that rabbis will offend.

First, being a rabbi gives you power. You become a leader and authority for an entire community, and for individuals who reveal to you their deepest secrets. Many treat you as a life coach, and believe you are inherently more holy, trustworthy and wise than others.

If you are the type who is going to take advantage, the rabbinate offers plenty of opportunity. You are often alone with congregants, who come to you at their most vulnerable.

Most rabbis take these responsibilities seriously. But a position offering such power is also naturally attractive to people with large egos who enjoy being the centre of attention — and for people who, consciously or unconsciously, want to exert authority over others. And sometimes, even people who start out with good intentions can allow power to go to their head.

Second, being a rabbi can be a very lonely business. You work long hours, dealing with difficult issues under immense pressure. You are often socially isolated, as it can be difficult and sometimes inadvisable to develop real friendships with congregants. And while everyone looks to you for comfort and help, your own support system is limited. You may only work with a handful of colleagues. Unlike the Church of England, there is no diocesan bishop responsible for your wellbeing. Those supposedly in charge of you are often in awe of your title and unable to mentor you — or don’t recognise the need.

It’s absolutely no excuse for bad or even criminal behaviour, but when the pressure gets to the rabbis, there is often no safety net to catch them.

For the community, the lessons are clear. While every rabbi needs to be able to express their personality in the way they do their job and exercise authority, there need to be checks and balances to ensure that they remain accountable and operate transparently. It can be a delicate balance, but finding the right mechanisms is essential to protect both congregants and the rabbi.

Rabbis themselves can be vulnerable, given the pressures, sensitivities and isolation of their job. They need proper pastoral care, as well as a group of senior, trusted lay leaders with whom delicate issues can be discussed in complete confidentiality, and who can act as a reality check when emotions or behaviour gets out of hand.

Finally, we must give our rabbis due respect, but no one is above suspicion. The title “Rabbi” does not automatically mean a good or nice person, and we endanger ourselves when we assume it does.