And so, I begin again

I was born on Simchat Torah.

When I was named at our family’s shul, my father opened the Torah to Parshat Breishit and physically placed me inside the scroll, on the words of Creation. When I envision the moment in my head, I hear the singing in the air, but imagine that, nestled within the Torah, all is still and quiet. There I feel the warmth of the Torah’s white and black fires cocooning me. My birthday was Simchat Torah and Torah was mine.

My father brought to life the multiple generations of Rabbis Carlebach, illustrious European leaders who both brought forth the fire of the Torah and cared for their communities. In story after story, I learned that my rabbinic ancestors gave tzedakah (often more than they had), saved lives, and worked to raise the sparks of our broken world.

From the age of five, my father would put me on the table to tell stories of the Baal Shem Tov and, from the age of 15, he brought me on stage to sing beside him. Despite many people shouting that Kol Isha was unacceptable, my father insisted that I sing and use my voice to bring light and Torah to the world. I was raised to be empowered in this way as a woman and believed that I carried Torah within my soul. I knew that no matter what I did in my life, I was meant to continue the important work of those before me.

But when my father passed away suddenly, I learned quickly that much of the Orthodox world I was raised in did not share his views. I was marginalized for daring to be the first Orthodox woman of my generation to sing publicly for a mixed audience. “Too bad you were not born a man,” I heard over and over again, “you could have been something.” “The great Carlebach legacy died with your father,” I heard. “You are bringing shame to your whole family by singing,” I was told.

I took over my father’s shows so that my family would not lose our home and, for many years, I sang through my tears and despair. I was convinced that as a woman I would never have a place as a “real” leader in the Jewish world. I was an observant Jew who felt trapped within halacha, not knowing where I fit. It would be many years before I discovered a different perspective and community within Yiddishkeit that made space for women and did not limit us. It was then that I began to dream of, and even speak aloud, my desire to one day become a rabbi.

After October 7, Simchat Torah, my heart, my essence, and my birthday changed forever. My Jewish identity and desire to learn have never been stronger. I feel a greater sense of urgency to do my part and bring meaning and holiness to our communities, both in the Diaspora and Israel. My love of our global Jewish family and appreciation for our shared rituals have never been deeper. Each and every one of us, regardless of gender, personal choice, practice, preference or location, is called to step up and show up now. It is our time.

It is with all this swirling in my heart that I share that I’ve begun my studies as part of the rabbinical program at the Academy for Jewish Religion-New York. It is time.

This past week we read the Book of Eicha, which contains graphic violence that was once hard to fathom. It remains unthinkable and, yet in these last 10 months, it has come alive in full and frightening technicolor. Now I see the faces of the Bibas family – Shiri holding her precious redheaded babies. Now I see Shani Luk on the back of a jeep as Gazans joyfully celebrate her death. Now I see Rachel Goldberg, her brave and broken eyes, willing her beloved Hersh to stay strong and survive. Now, once again, Eicha is our family’s story. I feel their pain in my blood. I hear their call to us all. This moment is heartbreaking and unfair. It is punishing. It cannot be undone. But we can respond, and so we must for their sakes, and for the sake of our Jewish family’s future. Every voice matters and I dare not hold mine back any longer.

I take this new step inspired by the voices and wisdom of all of our greatest teachers, especially the survivors of the Shoah and October 7 and the family members of the hostages. Truly, I am in awe of us, of the bravery, the resilience and the koach of our Jewish brothers and sisters. Their stories are Torah. We must hear their call.

My Jewish journey has not been a simple one. And yet, after nearly 30 years of praying, singing and learning with Jewish communities all over the world, I am compelled to begin again. I pray that I will be blessed to step into my role as Rabbi Neshama Carlebach, holding the hands of the rabbis who have come before me.

Bring Them Home Now.

Am Yisrael Chai!