Now that I no longer serve a congregation as a pulpit rabbi, I have been asked several times if I am still a rabbi.

I live in Sarasota Florida, a community that is widely known as home to many retirees. Most left their life-long professions behind. Others continue to define themselves by the work they practiced before retirement. Many use the honorifics that they earned; doctor, professor, attorney, rabbi.

Because they didn’t simply earn the titles. They embodied their titles. 

But the truth is that once you retire to Florida, your previous identity easily becomes irrelevant. The question, “What did you do?” is seldom asked. Instead, people chat about leisure activities. Theater, pickleball, mah jong, concerts, favorite restaurants, golf.

It’s a little different in my case. I came to Florida as a professional fundraiser, and much later was ordained as a rabbi. I never retired, but instead worked in and for this Jewish community since I brought my family here in 1998.

I built an entire career and identity as a behind-the-scenes professional in the non-profit world, supporting others who served the community directly.

I only became a rabbi because I’d begun leading services at a small congregation as a lay person. And I only did that because I happen to have a nice singing voice.

But the congregation asked me to take classes, and then suggested rabbinical school.

I never expected or planned this, but being a rabbi has become essential to who I am, and how I function in the world. If I take a job as a greeter at Walmart, I will still be a rabbi. When I retire, I will still be a rabbi. After I die, I will still be HaRav Yehudit Devorah, Rabbi Jennifer Singer.

Recently, I left synagogue work to begin creating a community-wide adult Jewish education program for the Jewish Federation. Which feels a little odd, because I originally moved here to be a Federation fundraiser. In some ways, I’ve come full circle. In other ways, it’s entirely different.

I’m not the same person. And yet… perhaps I am. My first day at the new job, I was reminiscing with the last staff member still at the Federation from all those years ago. We were telling coworkers about the day I called a staff meeting to announce that I had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer, and I had given them a pep talk about being a team, and used Moses and Aaron as an example.

To my surprise, my old colleague said, “You know, you were already a rabbi back then.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe we don’t really change, but simply grow into our true selves. If so, it certainly took me a while. I was 59 years old when I was ordained.

And the answer to the question? I may not lead services for a congregation, but I am absolutely still a rabbi. Now and always, and with deep gratitude to God and the many people who showed me the way.