New Rabbi Defies Convention

Let’s just say Congregation Etz Chaim’s new associate rabbi defies conventionality when it comes to the image of a traditional spiritual leader. From the contemporary haircut and tiny hoop in his left ear to tattoos — the most visible a sun wedding ring design matching his wife April’s moon insignia — one quickly senses that Micah Miller breaks the mold of a Conservative rabbi.

But 33-year-old Miller is more than what meets the eye. Certainly, the Colombian-born third-generation spiritual leader brings an added dimension to the 40-year-old Marietta congregation from his multicultural roots to his marriage to a convert after a divorce from his first wife.

Settling into his new digs, Miller explained the still-developing displays of sports, city and cultural memorabilia cramming the small corner shelves of his new office. Piles of Jewish books awaited shelf space in this nook across from his new mentor, the slightly older Rabbi Daniel Dorsch. Miller will help him lead the nearly 600-member congregation.

As he mentioned in his first d’var Torah last month, a week after beginning his new role, “you can’t know where you are going until you know where you’ve been. It is very important to surround myself with my history and past.”

Dorsch said of his associate rabbi. “When we first interviewed Rabbi Miller, we were impressed by the breadth of his experience, enthusiasm, and creativity when it came to working with youth, young professionals, and families with young children. As we’ve gotten to know one another better, I can already see that he will be a terrific complement to our rabbinic team, both on and off the pulpit.”

The two rabbis both attended the Albert A. List College, a joint program between Columbia University and the Jewish Theological Seminary. While Miller studied history and Bible, he didn’t regularly attend services or become very involved with Hillel. He pledged Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity but wavered in his commitment to follow in the rabbinical path of his father and grandfather and a deeply involved Jewish family. His mother was a youth commission chair and his sister, a youth director with United Synagogue Youth. Miller, himself, was a product of Jewish day schools and asked to attend Hebrew School too because he was looking for the “community within a synagogue” he believes religious school provides. He also rose through the ranks of Kadima to become president of his USY chapter in his junior and senior years.

Despite a college friend turning to Miller every night for spiritual support while fighting cancer, he was unsure of his future as a rabbi. After college he returned to his hometown of St. Louis, where he taught public school, worked as a youth adviser and at Panera.

He didn’t zero in on rabbinic studies until realizing he could inspire on a larger scale than his Teach for America students. “I wrote on a piece of paper: ‘I’m ready to listen. I’m ready to learn. I’m ready to better myself.’ I taped it to the outside of my door. Each day I had a single-file line and they had to touch the piece of paper. I shared the story with my father and mother, and my sister said ‘Micah, you made a mezuzah for your students.’”

From that realization, he enrolled in the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at American Jewish University in Los Angeles. But mid-way through rabbinical school, he again hesitated, taking a break once more in St. Louis, where he taught religious school and worked at food chains: Starbucks as a barista and as a bartender and server at Buffalo Wild Wings. But then he graduated and was ordained from the Ziegler School, the tallis from which he wears during Shabbat services at Etz Chaim.

Miller served Conservative congregations in St. Louis, Los Angeles, and most recently was assistant rabbi at Temple of Aaron in St. Paul. His father served there nearly 40 years earlier before moving onto other synagogues. He is currently serving as rabbi of a Santa Rosa, Calif., congregation.

Aside from a family history of Jewish leadership and rabbinical service, Miller has a layered multicultural past. His father was raised in South Africa, where his grandfather started a Reform congregation. Miller’s grandmother was a third generation pre-Israel sabra.

But Miller isn’t their natural descendent. He was born to a teenage mother in Bogotá, Columbia, a largely Catholic society, adopted by the Jewish family as a baby and converted. The irony of his family tree isn’t lost on Miller. “I don’t believe in divine destination. I believe in free will, but there might have been a divine hand” that led to his adoption, he said. “My life probably would not have been so easy. I am grateful.”

Miller also recognizes he doesn’t fit the mold of many of his peers. “I really didn’t follow a regular trajectory. I feel very fortunate. I had a lot of different experiences for 33.” Those experiences, he believes, help him relate to congregants who share similar backgrounds, whether they come from a divorce, are part of a blended family or were adopted.

“I think that my biggest contribution to the congregation will be my diverse background in working with youth of all ages and I look forward to working with all of the Etz Chaim children and their families.”

The name of his 5-year-old daughter, Aria, who is starting kindergarten at The Epstein School, should also be an indication of his skills. He considered going to college for musical theater before deciding on List College. So congregants shouldn’t be surprised to hear his strong voice adding to the cultural harmony and progressive spirit he brings to the rabbinate.

In terms of his skin-deep artistry, covered largely by professional attire, Miller shared his personal reflection on how he interprets the biblical law prohibiting bodily desecration. He would like to change that law, based on Leviticus 19:28: “You shall not etch a tattoo on yourselves.” Miller believes the prohibition stems from an ancient practice of idolaters writing the name of their god on their skin.

His tattoos represent his life, among them a gorilla representing strength and veganism, and a Colombian flag held by lions of Judah, such as the official emblem of Jerusalem.

If asked about the tattoos, Miller said he responds, “I did not desecrate myself; rather, I adorned myself.”

He elaborates, “When people come up to me to discuss my tattoos it is generally not with the attitude of being upset or put off by them. Generally, it is coming from a place of curiosity of a rabbi having a tattoo. I then generally quickly explain where I am in terms of the text and the laws surrounding it. I never share this opinion to convince people one way or the other about tattoos but let them into my thinking and provide a different perspective.”

Miller doesn’t mince words. “We are not the typical rabbi and rebbetzin.”