In the mid-1950s the Director of Education in my Delaware congregation was Rabbi Simon Krinsky. He had been born in Eastern Europe; he had a thick accent; he was fluent in a number of languages, Hebrew and Yiddish among them; he had founded our Federation newspaper, now magazine. But what made him unique – probably so much so that no other Reform congregation could make this claim – was that he was ordained in the Mir Yeshiva by Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, who became the first Chief Rabbi of pre-statehood Israel! Rabbi Krinsky was an Orthodox rabbi affiliated with a classical Reform congregation.

Rabbi Krinsky was the only one our Board permitted to wear a kipah (remember, the movement until the 1970s or so was “classical” in which no kipot or tallesim were worn). And he could be found in the pews of our Reform congregation though there was both an Orthodox and Conservative synagogue in our community!

I once asked him, “Why here, Rabbi?” And he responded, “if they sent me a golden invitation I wouldn’t go there” (of course you’ve got to hear that reply as did I, with a Yiddish accent). He went on, “The only nice rabbi is Rabbi Drooz (my senior then predecessor).” I wasn’t at all surprised; Rabbi Drooz was known among his colleagues as the “Gentleman Rabbi,” and having served under him for a decade I can tell you it fit like a glove (was I lucky!).

Inasmuch as those converting to Judaism had to undergo a bet din, literally a “court,” a test administered by three rabbis, Rabbi Krinsky was one of the trio. The first time I served on the bet din I couldn’t believe the questions he asked the candidate. One of them I remember as if it was yesterday. “How many times did Moses’s visit Israel?” was what he asked, and after thinking and thinking and thinking, the candidate responded, “Rabbi Krinsky, I’m sorry, but I think you made a mistake…Moses never visited Israel. He wasn’t permitted into the Promised Land.” Rabbi Krinsky’s jowls dropped, and then with a twinkle in his eyes he winked, and said (again, of course with the accent), “You’re right!”

My questions were tougher, and after the bet din was over and the candidate passed with flying colors, Rabbi Krinsky said to me, “Rabbi, you NEVER ask questions of a convert that your own congregants couldn’t answer.” While I was confused at first, thinking about it I realized how right he was.

Rabbi Krinsky taught me a lot that day and in the four years in which I learned from him before his death.

(***z”l stands for zichrono l’vracha, May his memory be a blessing)