In 2016, Rabbi Hannah Spiro became the first rabbi of Hill Havurah, an independent Jewish community based on Capitol Hill.
She took on that role as a student in her last year of rabbinical school, having sought a part-time rabbinic internship in the Washington, D.C., area so she could see her husband more often. Spiro found a congregation that had never had a rabbi before: Hill Havurah.
“‘They haven’t had a rabbi before; is it OK if they have half a rabbi?’” Spiro recalled thinking. “I ended up getting the position and I have been around ever since.”
Spiro graduated from the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College in 2017. Before that, she earned her bachelor’s in Jewish studies and philosophy from the University of Maryland.
Spiro is on the board of directors for the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association and the security committee for the rabbi-imam summit, which is organized by the Jewish-Islamic Dialogue Society of Washington and Jews and Muslims and Allies Acting Together.
Spiro lives in Capitol Hill, a neighborhood of D.C., with her husband and two children. You can find her practicing aerial acrobatics in Navy Yard when she’s not leading services or talking Jewish philosophy with her 6-year-old.
Tell me about your Jewish upbringing and background.
I grew up going to Temple Shalom in Chevy Chase and I really loved my upbringing there. I have really powerful memories of community building in religious school, a lot of which involved bothering our teacher [with] lots of silly mischief, but we were a community. I have a lot of memories sitting at Kabbalat Shabbat services with my parents and little sister, and every time we went, which was almost every week, my dad would always lean over and whisper to me, “You know this part is BS, right?” It was so embarrassing, but in retrospect, I think it helped keep me on my toes and pay[ing] attention to the content and my thoughts and feelings about the content. It was a powerful feeling to be able to be there and wrestle with [the content] at the same time; that’s a valid form of engagement.
What inspired you to pursue the rabbinate?
I started thinking about cantorial school when I was in high school. Our cantor that I grew up with, Ramón Tasat, had a big impact on me when I was a teenager. I just found his work so incredibly powerful; I wanted to do that. I got a little freaked out by the idea of having to rely so much on my voice, which felt like a very physical [thing]; I was worried that I could lose it pretty easily. Sure enough, I got a cyst on my vocal folds when I was in the beginning of rabbinical school. I’ve gotten my voice back since then, but it was dicey for a bit.
I started off college thinking I would go into law school like my parents did … but then I realized that I didn’t really understand what that meant, and I don’t know: what made me think I’d be a good lawyer? So I started thinking about what I’m actually good at and what I like to do: those things were community organizing, my Hillel — I was really into the Reform and Reconstructionist Jewish community at the Hillel, and Hamsa, which is the Jewish LGBTQQIA organization [of Maryland Hillel]. Hillel was a huge part of my social life; it was really important to me. I love doing that. I love doing Jewish studies, I love Jewish philosophy and I love to lead services at Hillel; I was like, “I think these are things that rabbis do.” I was not intimidated by the prospect because my dad had been the way he was in my early school life. I went to rabbinical school straight from college. I was the “resident infant”; [at 22], my roommate and I were the resident infants at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College.
What’s it like working as a rabbi on Capitol Hill?
Right now, it is confusing. I never know if I should be a moral voice that tries to rally my congregation around important justice work and service work. The space we rent is right across the street from the Supreme Court; it’s a block and a half away from the Capitol, like I could just roll out of my office and go to a protest. That feels really meaningful. At the same time, I don’t know if I should be focusing on that or if I should be a respite for my congregants in the chaos that is our country, our world, our city, our neighborhood. So I’m constantly mentally moving back and forth between those spaces. All the time, I feel a little bit like I’m letting some people down; I think at any given moment, there are people who really want me to lead them in one way and there are people who want me to hold a comforting space for them in another way. So I try to do some of both.
What do you enjoy about your work?
One of the things that gives me the most joy is the honor of being with people throughout different stages of their lives, whether that’s someone discovering or rediscovering their Judaism and then engaging in the process of learning and discernment, then eventually becoming a learned lay leader in the community; or whether it’s officiating someone’s wedding, doing their kids’ baby naming and the family education phase in our religious school. Being there for Jewish journeys over the course of years is such an honor. That makes me so happy and I want to stick around for all of it.
What are your goals for the upcoming year?
I want my congregants and the Jewish community to feel grounded and the comfort and energy in Torah and in community, and I want to help provide that Torah and that community.
zbell@midatlanticmedia.com
