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Say
Goodbye to Zucky
By Jeff Berkwits
After a decade at Congregation Beth Am, San Diego’s
best-known rabbi, Arthur Zuckerman, is calling it quits. Up next? Fighting
terrorism.
Rabbi Arthur Zuckerman’s cramped office at Congregation
Beth Am looks like the workplace of just about any clergyman. The desk
is overflowing with papers, the bookshelves are brimming with trinkets,
tchotchkes and books, and the walls are chock-full of pictures showcasing
family, friends and worshippers. However, every hour – on the hour
– an incongruous noise rips through the room: the roar of a Harley,
sounding like it’s going to peel out the door and squeal down the
hall.
That clamor springs from a novelty timepiece adorned with a dozen
motorcycles, one for each hour, hanging above the doorway. The clock is
little more than a plaything, but it’s an apt metaphor for the always-on-the-go
rabbi. Whether leading the popular Rock’n Shabbat Friday night service
or helping an aspiring B’nai Mitzvah to better understand his or
her Torah portion, “Zucky,” as he is affectionately called
by nearly everyone who knows him, is constantly striving to imbue those
around him with spirit, simcha and a genuine love of Judaism.
“I’m the catalyst,” notes the Steven Spielberg
look-alike, sitting beside his jam-packed desk. “Wherever I go,
I’m the catalyst. If there’s a need to insert a little energy,
that’s me.”
Now, after more than a dozen years at Beth Am, this charismatic
and at times controversial leader has decided it’s time for him
to exhibit that “get up and go” he so often instills in his
followers. He plans to leave the congregation at the end of June, not
to guide another synagogue, but rather to build an altogether unprecedented
organization.
Which, in a sense, is precisely what he did at Beth Am. When
he arrived at the congregation in 1991, the worshippers were meeting at
a converted tire store in Solana Beach.
“The ark was actually facing the wrong direction; it
was facing Japan,” laughs Zuckerman, whose words and vocal inflections,
depending upon the subject, by turn evoke the wit of Groucho Marx, the
weariness of Woody Allen or the pop culture wisdom of Dr. Phil. “There
were also beams in awkward places.
Downstairs was the sanctuary, social hall and kitchen –
the kitchen was a separate room, but the sanctuary and social hall were
one big room. And upstairs were the offices and classrooms. But you know
what? It worked.”
Zuckerman came to the young congregation after Rabbi Wayne
Dosick, now the well-known author of books like “Living Judaism,”
departed. After a lengthy search for a new spiritual leader, the directors
of the congregation had narrowed down the applicants to two contenders:
a comparatively traditional rabbi and Zuckerman, who suffered from Attention
Deficit Disorder and received his ordination by correspondence from an
East Coast yeshiva while teaching at Chabad in San Diego.
“We were looking for someone who could take us from
the tire store we were in, and help the congregation grow to the point
where we could be financially viable,” says Candice Fagan, a long-time
Beth Am member who was on the selection committee. “When we had
the final two candidates, it really came down to determining exactly what
we were looking for. Were we looking for a scholar, or were we looking
for a mensch? It’s hard to find both in the same person, so we started
discussing what would be more important to the viability and health and
future of the congregation, and we believed that somebody who has the
kind of compassion and enthusiasm that Rabbi Zuckerman has would be our
best choice.”
The committee certainly got what they were seeking and quite a bit
more. Over the past 13 years, the synagogue’s membership has skyrocketed
from approximately 200 to more than 800 families. High Holy Days services
now attract more than 2,000 people, and the tire store has been replaced
by a spacious sanctuary and educational campus on Del Mar Heights Road
in Carmel Valley. The congregation operates two preschools (one at Beth
Am and another at the San Diego Jewish Academy), an afternoon religious
school and, for adults, a Center for Lifelong Learning. That unwavering
focus on education, and more specifically a desire to infuse in youngsters
an appreciation of and affection for Judaism, has been integral to Zuckerman’s
success.
“When I first came to the synagogue, my philosophy was
a very simple, basic one,” recalls the rabbi, a father of two. “If
I worry about the kids, the parents will worry about the building. And
I’ve never had to worry about the building, because the kids always
wanted to be here.”
“Rabbi Zuckerman has always taken a very personal interest
in knowing each child,” adds Michael Moskowitz, the synagogue’s
executive director. “He also knows most, if not all, of the members
on either a first-name or a very familiar basis. To be able to say that
the rabbi knows pretty much everyone who’s here is an outstanding
accomplishment, and certainly a reflection on who he is and the importance
and the role that he has played here.”
That active interest in every individual is perhaps what most
appeals to his congregants. In fact, it’s so charming that it has
taken on an almost mythic quality.
“He’s kind of a Pied Piper-type rabbi,”
claims Fagan. “He would meet you for the first time at a gathering
– say, a membership social event – and he’d walk up
to you a month later and he would remember your name and the initial contact
he’d made with you. Most of us grew up with rabbis that we could
hardly even speak to, let alone have them remember our names, so that
really made a difference.”
Zuckerman has likewise made a difference in the community
at large, particularly among Jewish singles and young families. Although
he stresses that he didn’t come up with the idea, he has turned
Rock’n Shabbat into the “hip” Hebrew happening in San
Diego.
“It’s like a modern-day miracle of Biblical proportion,”
raves Gayle Goodman, chairperson of a recent fundraiser for the event.
“You have 200 to 300 Jews, mostly but not entirely all single, coming
from San Diego County and, in some cases, Riverside County and Orange
County, to services on the fourth Friday of every month at Congregation
Beth Am. In my experience, that’s just phenomenally unheard of,
especially with that demographic.”
Leading those masses in prayer is Zuckerman, often wearing
a purple-fringed tallis and playing the tambourine, accompanied by a seven-piece
band. Like a rabbinical rock star, he holds his audience transfixed, delivering
the Parsha with equal parts panache, personality and piety.
“He’s real, he’s relatable and he’s
authentic,” continues Goodman, who is not a member of Beth Am but
nevertheless travels from La Mesa to Carmel Valley each month just to
attend Rock’n Shabbat. “He’s willing to talk about some
of the things he’s challenged with, or the screw-ups that he has
made in his life, yet take those challenges and bring them to bear on
what’s happening in the news or what we’re doing as Jews.”
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The rabbi doesn’t shy away from introducing contentious
topics at Rock’n Shabbat – he recently invited a Jewish military
chaplain to discuss his experiences in Iraq – nor is he afraid to
take, at times, controversial personal stands. While these do not always
endear him to Jewish traditionalists or, for that matter, some members
of Beth Am, taking hard positions undoubtedly adds to his luster as a
daring leader.
For example, in October 2002, the then-mayor of Jerusalem,
Ehud Olmert, was the speaker at a fundraiser held by the evangelical Mission
Valley Christian Fellowship (MVCF). Most local Jews boycotted the event,
but Zuckerman felt that his attendance was crucial.
“How could I, as a rabbi leader of the Jewish community, not
be there to greet the mayor of Jerusalem when he’s coming to a dinner?”
he asks. “And, I might add, when the mayor met with members of the
Jewish community, he gave them a piece of his mind. Maybe they would do
the same thing next time, but I have no regrets. I would show up again
in a heartbeat.”
Zuckerman’s actions may not have garnered respect from
his peers in the organized Jewish world, but his stance certainly had
a positive impact on the organizers of the event and, in a roundabout
way, regional interfaith relations. “With the resistance that we
got from the Jewish community, to have somebody come and stand by our
side meant a lot,” says the Fellowship’s Business Administrator
Robert Cobb, adding that, in spite of the lack of a significant Jewish
presence, the benefit raised $500,000 for victims of terrorism in Jerusalem.
“There are still challenges to get through, but it was a stepping
stone to have somebody there.”
The ever-active rabbi’s future plans are sure to raise
some eyebrows. Then again, like the fundraiser appearance, his actions
will also likely foster understanding and cooperation between parties
that, despite sharing the same goals, don’t always work in partnership.
Long before the World Trade Center tragedy, Zuckerman had been preoccupied
with domestic terrorist threats, to the point that he had put together
a small personal gun collection.
Prior to 9/11, he had shown area high school students the
cautionary video “Jihad in America,” and his ongoing work
as a chaplain with the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department brought
him into frequent contact with law enforcement officials. Recent interactions
with the department’s Emergency Services Division, which includes
the bomb and arson squad, the SWAT team and canine unit, among others,
crystallized an idea for a national foundation that would help train first-response
personnel to effectively deal with terrorist attacks.
“After 9/11, I got more and more involved with questions
of security in our country,” explains Zuckerman. “Last December,
I took four members of [San Diego’s] special team unit to Israel
to work with their counterparts and see what’s done in that country
to prepare for these types of emergencies. And when I got back, it started
becoming increasingly clear to me that this is something that needs to
be done here.”
That realization led to the rabbi’s impending plan to
launch a non-profit organization called The Emergency Response Foundation.
The institution would provide opportunities for law-enforcement officials,
medical and health professionals, commercial security managers and other
homeland security workers to travel to countries like Israel and England
to learn firsthand how to best prevent and respond to violent attacks
from religious fanatics and radical groups.
Though Zuckerman admits he’s still seeking financial
support for the venture, he optimistically hopes to have 200 to 300 participants
in the program during its first year. And while it may seem odd that a
spiritual leader would spearhead such a hazardous undertaking, the rabbi
makes this particular calling sound almost divine.
“According to the Mishnah, saving one life is like saving
the world,” he says. “Well, if you safe many lives, you save
many worlds. I believe we cannot stop all terrorism: Israel has learned
that, and we have learned that. However, what we can do is limit the amount
of damage that terrorism can cause, but only if we’re prepared.
To date, we’re making an effort, but we’re not there yet.
I believe this will facilitate that preparedness. So, once again, I become
a catalyst.”
Which is not to say, in typical Zucky fashion, that a little
levity can’t be injected into this deadly serious endeavor. “The
rabbi had told me that he was really tired of what was happening in Israel
and that he wanted to hunt down terrorists,” recalls Goldman. “Well,
one day I saw him and his son in their car in the parking lot driving
around looking for a bobcat. I teased him and said, ‘So, you’re
hunting down poor bobcats because you can’t find any terrorists
in Del Mar?’ He thought it was really funny and he agreed with me.
He was taking his aggressions out on the bobcat.”
It’s precisely that type of forthright honesty
and self-effacing humor that Beth Am members, and many throughout the
San Diego community, will miss when Zuckerman leaves.
“One of the reasons I came here was because of him,”
says Beth Am’s 36-year-old Associate Rabbi David Kornberg, who joined
the congregation in 1999 and will be appointed senior rabbi upon Zuckerman’s
departure. “He has one of the biggest hearts that I’ve ever
seen in a person, and I think that was one of the powerful pieces of his
rabbinate. People knew that if they were in trouble, if they needed help,
if they needed to talk to somebody, he would be there for them no matter
what. That’s something they don’t teach at rabbinical school,
and that’s something that I’ve learned a lot about from him.”
“For a lot of people, Zucky was the rabbi when they
joined,” adds Moskowitz. “He represents the rabbinic connection
that they have to Beth Am. They’ll certainly miss that, and although
we all feel very strong and very good about Rabbi Kornberg being here,
for some congregants Zucky’s leaving represents the departure of
the rabbi who brought and kept them here. So they’re going to need
to find other rabbinic connections and relationships to Beth Am.”
Zuckerman also acknowledges he’s moving on with mixed
feelings. He realizes that launching The Emergency Response Foundation
means not only leaving Beth Am, but also possibly moving away from San
Diego with his wife Simi and their children.
“It’s important to realize that one person doesn’t
make up a synagogue,” he asserts. “A community makes up a
synagogue, and each person brings their qualities to that community and
that synagogue. I know that, in the future, Beth Am will grow and flourish,
and I’m looking forward to seeing that happen.”
The clock may be ticking and, as always, his engine is revving,
but count on Zucky to provide suitably caring counsel and comfort as he
speeds off into an uncertain but undeniably exciting future.
For feedback, contact editor@sdjewishjournal.com.
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