Mourning The Rabbi Among The 'Clustered Spires'

Around Frederick and Beth Sholom Synagogue, he was known simply, and fondly, by all as “The Rabbi.”

Nothing more needed to be said. That’s just who he was. He was, above all, a teacher, which goes to the essence of the definition of the word rabbi.

Indeed, Rabbi Morris Kosman was a teacher of Torah. He was a teacher of Yiddishkeit. He could teach the tenets and views of Judaism with the best of them.

But arguably more important, he taught everyone he came into contact with how to live a decent life and what it truly means to be a mentsch.

A fixture in the Frederick community for more than five decades, Rabbi Kosman passed away yesterday, Oct. 23, shortly before the start of the Shemini Atzeret holiday. He was 88 years young.

Over the course of my career in Jewish journalism, I’ve probably met and interviewed hundreds of rabbis. But there was always something different – dare I say special? — about Rabbi Kosman.

Maybe it was that smile, which was warm and inviting and genuine. Perhaps it was the way he spoke to every single human being in a respectful, cordial, gentle and caring manner in which you felt like you always had his full and undivided attention.

Rabbi Kosman loved people.

And as a result, we all loved him back.

How could you not? He was like the gracious uncle who always had a kind word and an amusing anecdote. A big teddy bear of a man, I often saw the rabbi ask someone a question about themselves, tell them a cute joke and proceed to put his arm around them.

Just ask the predominantly non-Jewish Bingo players who got to know Rabbi Kosman well at the weekly games played at his synagogue. He was a beloved figure among those folks and a wonderful introduction to the Jewish community for them.

Rabbi Kosman’s benevolent soul and down-to-earth demeanor seemed to envelop you. He was kind, friendly, humble and always nurturing.

He was everything that a rabbi should be.

I got to know Rabbi Kosman, his lovely wife, Carol, and their flock at Beth Sholom Congregation around 2003. I was writing a profile of the shul, which back then was basically the only Jewish congregation in the area. I already knew that Rabbi Kosman was a bit of a local legend; my dear, lifelong friend Candy Zentz, who lives in nearby Thurmont, had been extolling his virtues to me for many years. He was her portal to Jewish living.

Spending time in Frederick, I saw what Candy meant. I came up to the lovely little “City of the Clustered Spires,” as it’s known, to write about Frederick Jewry, only to discover that Rabbi Kosman was the heart and soul of that community. He was Frederick’s gadol, or revered rabbi.

I’ll never forget talking to one of Beth Sholom’s older congregants. She had only wonderful things to say about the rabbi, but complained bitterly that she felt the congregation was becoming too traditional under his leadership in recent years.

I suggested that maybe Rabbi Kosman was no longer the right man to lead Beth Sholom in the 21^st century, and the woman arched her eyebrows and gave me a stern look.

“Well, hold on there, young man,” she said. “Just because I don’t happen to agree with everything that happens at the synagogue on his watch doesn’t mean I don’t love the rabbi. We all love the rabbi and don’t want him going anywhere!”

I told that story to Rabbi Kosman – while maintaining the anonymity of the congregant – and he just laughed, sort of in the same way the Dalai Lama laughs.

“I know, they all think I’ve become too frum,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But that’s OK. I love them all. It’s fine. I’m just me being me.”

The truth of the matter is, Rabbi Kosman was always the kind of spiritual leader who met his congregants where they “lived,” whether they were traditional, unaffiliated, intermarried, indifferent, etc. He had that rare ability to connect with people and morph into whatever kind of rabbi you wanted him to be, because he was knowledgeable, wise and yet non-judgmental and accepting. He could mix in all circles.

When arriving in Frederick in 1961, Rabbi Kosman found a small, unaffiliated community there. It was your typical small-town Jewish milieu, and the Detroit-born rabbi – who was ordained Orthodox – understood that most of his flock knew little about traditional Judaism.

So he had the intent and wherewithal to help them be Jewish whenever and wherever they wanted. I’ve heard stories about him meeting up with congregants in egregiously non-kosher dining establishments at lunchtime sessions to study Torah and Talmud.

How many rabbis – let alone Orthodox-ordained clergy – would do that?

Rabbi Kosman realized that in this type of community, that’s what it took to bring Yiddishkeit and the love of Judaism into people’s lives. And he succeeded, probably far beyond his wildest dreams. The thriving Beth Sholom community today is a living, breathing testament to Rabbi Kosman’s brand of kiruv, or outreach.

I remember the first time I attended services at Beth Sholom, for the bat mitzvah of Candy Zentz’s daughter, Jessica. I was struck by the fact that an English translation of the Torah reading was read aloud after the Hebrew text chanting, making the service that much longer.

Years later, I asked Rabbi K. about it. He explained that he didn’t just want his worshippers to hear the words and trope of the Torah; he wanted them to really listen and comprehend the meaning, and to learn from the lessons of the Biblical narrative. He knew it probably drove some people in the pews meshugah, but he felt the Torah’s message was that crucial for Jews to absorb.

And because he was Rabbi Morris Kosman, he could get away with it.

In an interview with the Frederick News-Post in 1999, Rabbi Kosman explained why he was so passionate about his life’s work and mission.

“I love Judaism so much, I just had to do something with it. Otherwise, I’d bust,” he said. “I had to make people see how beautiful it is. … [Judaism is] a non-stop spiritual experience. Every time you open the book, you feel like your intellect is touching the divine. …

“The real experience is when you make someone else see that.”

A father of seven and grandfather to more than 50, Rabbi Kosman was also the patriarch of the entire Beth Sholom and Frederick Jewish communities. With his passing, I’m certain there are many heavy hearts at Beth Sholom, Camp Shoresh, and across Frederick County, as there are here in Baltimore.

But we all gained a great deal from this man’s life, and were enriched and enlightened by the warmth of his soul and essence.

Everyone dreams of changing the world over the course of their lifetime. Unlike most people, Rabbi Kosman actually did.

He was “The Rabbi.”

May his memory always be a blessing to those of us who knew and loved him.