Dear Friends,
Over the course of my rabbinate, I have been truly blessed by mentors who took me under their wing, shared their wisdom, and helped shape not just my rabbinate, but me as a person. One of those mentors was Rabbi Howard Laibson of Temple Israel in Long Beach, California.
After my third year of rabbinic studies, I decided to take a year off to gain additional professional experience. As it happened, Howard was looking for an intern. Most rabbinic internships are about 20 hours a week, but because I wasn’t in school, I effectively became a full-time member of the temple staff.
Howard’s generosity as a mentor was remarkable. Even though I had only completed three of my five years of rabbinic school, he treated me as if I were already ordained—a colleague and his assistant rabbi. I was given an office, shared equally in worship and lifecycle officiation, and had the freedom to experiment with some less conventional programming—like the time I entered the sanctuary during Hanukkah services dressed as a Hanukkah menorah. (Thankfully, there is no photographic evidence of that.) He even entrusted me with delivering the Rosh Hashanah morning sermon that year.
During that year, I learned what it truly means to be a congregational rabbi from Howard and from the congregation’s Rabbi Emeritus, Wolli Kaelter, another of my most formative mentors. Rabbi Kaelter’s own story was extraordinary—his father was the last Chief Rabbi of Danzig, Germany, and Wolli had escaped the Nazis thanks to the help of the Reform Movement. Wolli passed away years ago, but his influence remains with me to this day.
Looking back, I realize just how impactful that year in Long Beach was for me, both personally and professionally.
Last month, I received the sad news that Howard had died. I’m not someone who easily cries, but as I thought about what a mensch he was and the remarkable gifts he had given me—the lessons, the opportunities, the trust, and the kindness—my eyes filled, and before I knew it, the floodgates opened. Thirty-five years had passed, yet the sense of connection and gratitude I felt for Howard was as strong as ever.
Howard and I had lost touch for many years. But when I announced my retirement, I reached out to let him know and to thank him for the important role he played in my career. We exchanged a few texts and caught up briefly.
I’m so grateful I did.
It’s easy to assume that the people who have shaped us know how much they mean to us. But the truth is, they may not—and the opportunity to tell them doesn’t last forever. So, if someone has mentored you, encouraged you, believed in you when you doubted yourself—reach out. Call. Write. Send the text. Tell them. Let them know the impact they’ve had on your life while you still can.
As the Psalmist teaches, “It is good to give thanks to God”—and it is just as holy to give thanks to those who have been God’s messengers in our lives.
May our hearts be quick to remember,
our words be generous in gratitude,
and may those who have blessed us
feel that blessing returned to them—
not someday, but now.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Daniel Cohen