It started with a little nudge. A small inner calling after reading through an email I received from Lemaan Yilmedu, an organization that sponsors a variety of Torah study programs leading to certification in various areas of Jewish law.
I was intrigued by the possibility of getting semichah—rabbinic ordination— and becoming a rabbi (see The Difference Between a Rabbi and a Rav) at 75, but then came the cacophony of opinions.
“It’s way too late,” one warned. “Be realistic. You already have great-grandchildren!”
I couldn’t help but nod my head in agreement.
“You gotta be kidding me,” another chimed in. “Don’t you know how to keep kosher after all these years?! I mean, it’s been five decades … ”
Yes, I thought to myself. I do know. At least, I should know by now!
“You haven’t studied like this for a long, long time,” came a third voice. “Why put yourself through such a vigorous and time-consuming process at your current age and stage? Isn’t it time to relax? You know, take it easy. Better stick to learning something lighter and a bit more relevant, like the Torah portion of the week.”
That, too, I agreed with. In fact, it was more than true. I hadn’t hit the books with that level of intensity since the winter of ‘72, when, having just completed my undergrad degree in American Studies at the University of Buffalo, I arrived at the Rabbinical College of America in Morristown, NJ, to join their program for college-age students with little or no background in formal Jewish education. With my long, curly hair, blue jeans, t-shirt, and a 6-string that accompanied me pretty much everywhere, I fit right in.
“Semichah at 75?” one final opinion rose loud and clear. “You must be out of your mind!”
Yet again, I found I had to agree. It did seem mighty unrealistic and maybe just a bit crazy.
I would love to tell you that these opinions came from friends urging some common sense, but the cacophony of doubt all came from a singular source: my own head.
That I felt each of these concerns to be valid only further complicated things. Neither did it help that most of my friends and colleagues had indeed long retired and are now living large, having their fair share of fun, and yes, just plain ol’ relaxing.
So, although I was intrigued, I rather quickly dismissed the whole idea.
“What Would the Rebbe Say?”
Most of the major moves in my life, I made with the guidance, inspiration, and blessings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory.
This includes marrying my wife, choosing to further my studies, embracing—and keeping—a career in special ed., becoming a published author, and jumping into public affairs.
Now, though, it seemed I was avoiding one last question: What would the Rebbe say about this wild notion of learning semichah at 75? Maybe it was time to retire, relax, and make the move to “easy street.”
But somehow, the word “retirement” was never in the Rebbe’s lexicon. Neither were “vacation,” “laziness,” or “procrastination.” The Rebbe was a living example of how to lead a meaningful, productive, and yes, very active life.
According to the Rebbe, one doesn’t ever “retire.” Definitely not the type of retirement that means putting your feet up, smoking a pipe, scrolling brainlessly on your cell phone, and watching the grass grow from a rocking chair.
Reinvent yourself, yes. Stay productive, definitely. Keep working, if you have the energy. Go to shul more and, gulp, increase your Torah study.
The Rebbe’s own schedule was absolutely mindboggling: Studying Torah during every free moment. Meeting with people from all walks of life, sometimes till the wee hours of the morning. Holding public gatherings, farbrengens, for thousands of followers on Shabbat and holidays, and often during the week—during which the Rebbe would often speak for hours, covering a variety of Torah subjects, quoting sources from all over Scripture without any notes or open books!
The Rebbe was the epitome of the expression, “If you want something done, ask a busy person.” He truly lived this notion of growing and improving and inspiring others every day.
Never Too Old to Learn
I pretty much forgot about the semichah course, until a week later, when I was visiting my granddaughter Mushka and her husband, Mordy, and I noticed his beautiful, framed semichah certificate on their wall.
“Did you get it?” Mordy asked when he saw me looking at it.
“Get what?”
“Semichah.”
“Oh no,” I answered. “I wasn’t interested in getting any rabbinic degrees back in my yeshivah days. I was just learning for the sake of learning. It was all kind of new and, well, I couldn’t get enough. Making up for lost time, I guess.”
“It’s never too late,” he said with a smile. “You should do it. Besides, you’re never too old to learn.”
I laughed back, about to add something about being over-the-hill, but I’ve never liked that expression. I figure life’s journey is much more like climbing a mountain than reaching the top of some hill and sliding easily down the other side. Ascending a mountain means you keep climbing every day.
“Keep the brain active,” Mordy added, “and the neshamah (soul) fired up!”
Although brief, our conversation made a big impact, but I was still only 51% sold on the idea. The extra 49% boost came from the Rebbe.
While skimming through the Lemaan Yilmedu website, I noticed a quote translated from one of the Rebbe’s public talks going back to 24 Tevet, 5712 (1952):
It is worth encouraging all, that it is very worthwhile and proper that all who wish to build an “everlasting edifice,” including young, and older men, after their weddings, should first of all produce Rabbinic ordination. It is certainly in their abilities to receive semichah.
The words “and older men” and “it is certainly in their abilities” was the key that unlocked the door that had pretty much been closed since my Mo-Town yeshivah days. While he may not have been addressing septuagenarians like me, the Rebbe added the practical importance of learning semichah:
They should at least receive semichah in a manner through which they will know what they need to do in their homes when a question arises.
I didn’t wait a day (or even an hour!) but immediately sent them an email outlining my situation in full glorious detail. Was it really doable for a guy turning 75 who hadn’t studied yeshivah-style in over 50 years? I asked. The reply came that very same day with a resounding “Yes!”
They would guide me along the way, providing clear, detailed, yet concise, booklets for each section of study, featuring the original text of the Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) in Hebrew, along with English translation, commentaries, diagrams and visualizations.
“Attend at least 80% of the live classes given twice a week,” I was told, “and pass the various tests along the way.”
“The rabbi teaching the class is amazing,” he added. “He’ll help you and make sure you really understand the material. You’ve got this!”
What Have I Learned?
The rabbi turned out to be Rabbi Barber, who besides being a wonderful, kind human being, is pretty much a walking, talking, breathing Shulchan Aruch, whose classes have opened up a whole new world for me.
So, here’s what I’ve learned since starting my semichah journey in August 2024:
- No matter how much you know, there is always more to learn. Torah is a deep, wondrous, and most of all endless sea. Since G‑d is infinite, and Torah is “the will and wisdom of G‑d Almighty,” Torah is infinite too.
I thought I knew what I was doing—the whats and whys and hows of it all. After all, I've been a card-carrying, Shabbat-observing, bearded member of the tribe for decades. But two classes in, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I pretty much knew nothing—not even how to keep a truly kosher home!
I had become complacent in my knowledge, or lack thereof I should say! - Jewish law isn’t about rote memorization. I’d always thought halachah was a matter of memorizing what to do and what not to do. But really, how many unrelated facts can the brain hold onto?
Moreover, I always thought of halachah as a kind of dry, somewhat passive path of study. But the very word halachah is related to the Hebrew word “halach,” which means movement, life, enthusiasm.
Now, I began learning the underlying concepts and the reasoning that goes into determining the correct course of action in hundreds of different halachic scenarios and it all came to life in an upbeat, even fun, way. - It’s not just an eye-opener, it’s a soul awakener. Suddenly, I was living with the Torah giants who wrote, debated, and recorded the halachah. The Mechaber, the Rema, the Taz, the Shach, the Pri Megadim, Rashi, Tosafot, the Maharshal, the Ran, and many others all came to life as I studied their opinions and reasonings.
Torah isn’t just ink on paper. It’s vitally different from other books of philosophy and science. It’s a vast, endless, roadmap that touches the very essence of who we are. I even ended up vividly dreaming about what we were taught! - If I can do it, you can too. Lemaan Yilmedu made this wild dream finally come true (assuming, of course, that I pass the last test of the program!). I am grateful to them for encouraging me to take the leap, and to Rabbi Yossi Barber for sticking with me and the rest of my cohort.
In fact, I’ve already registered for another course—a broader dive into the laws of kosher, including a review of what I’ve just learned in the semichah program, which I can definitely use!
Back in Talmudic times, they used to review their studies 100 times! That was the norm. Those diligent students were called “eved Hashem,” “a servant of G‑d.” But the ones who broke the mold, who went above and beyond, who reviewed the material 101 times, were referred to as “oved Hashem,” “one who is serving G‑d” in present tense.
Indeed, this is the guidance I received again and again throughout the course: “Chazarah, chazarah, chazarah — review, review, review!”
Three times? Piece of cake. Or challah. And definitely not baked in a dairy oven. Or is that a meat oven? I gotta go back and check. But after this semichah class, I have a much better idea of what a halachic question actually is!
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