Rabbi known to make house calls
Spiritual leader focuses on values rather than taking Bible literally
By Sophia Fischer sfischer@theacorn.com

Gershon Weissman

A rabbi who makes house calls? Rabbi Gershon Weissman, the spiritual leader of Temple Beth Haverim in Agoura Hills, does just that.

Recipients of such a visit were congregant Paula Friedman and her family. The Friedmans had moved to Agoura Hills from Connecticut in 2005 and had just joined Beth Haverim. The family hadn't had time to hang a mezuzah over their front door, so Weissman came over to help. (A mezuzah is a decorative case containing a Jewish prayer hung outside doorways.) On a Friday afternoon Weissman arrived at the Friedmans' with challah bread and Shabbat candlesticks and proceeded to affix mezuzahs on the front and back doors and the door to the garage, imparting blessings on the home and family.

"I thanked the rabbi for making this house call which was so touching since we didn't know many people in the area," Friedman said.

The story embodies the type of human being Weissman is, said longtime congregant Gary Tysch of Oak Park. Weissman has led Beth Haverim for nearly 20 years. "He is a genuine and sincere person," Tysch said.

So how did a guy named Gary Johnson, born in Maryland, end up becoming a rabbi in California and changing his name to Gershon Weissman? For the former Johnson, it was a journey influenced by many factors.

His father was a shoe store manager and his mother a secretary/writer. They were not particularly observant Jews. During his teen years, Gary worked as a salesman at the shoe store, during which time he developed an authentic Donald Duck imitation that would come in handy with children in his congregation years later.

His mother suffered from mental health issues including depression, which affected the boy.

"I still carry that pain with me. It's the sermon of my life, picking yourself up from sadness and being joyful in life," Weissman said. "I think it helped me become a more loving, helpful person for others."

He credits a Hebrew school confirmation teacher with educating him about the beauty of Judaism.

"He invited me for Shabbat, into his home and into his heart," Weissman said. "He became a mentor, big brother and spiritual leader."

Johnson was a 16yearold Redondo Beach student at the time, one of only four Jews at the school. What he learned from the teacher set him on the course to becoming a rabbi.

"He was radical as a teacher. He said you don't have to believe Moses did everything the Torah said," Weissman said. "What's important are your values. That struck me as fascinating, that you don't have to take the Bible literally. He was able to show how you can be Jewish and respect your intelligent understanding of life and at the same time honor your Judaism."

Weissman attended the University of California at Santa Barbara, starting out as a psychology major, then switching to religious studies. He then attended Hebrew Union College in New York, the Reform movement's educational institution for rabbinical students, then studied at a yeshiva in Jerusalem.

Weissman chose to be a Conservative movement rabbi for several reasons.

"I felt it honors kashrut (Jewish dietary laws) and Shabbat while at the same time gives women more of a participatory role," Weissman said. "It has tradition and change, and I respect and appreciate that."

After graduation his first congregation was a reform temple in Brookline, Mass.

He then headed west, spending two years as an assistant rabbi to Harold Schulweis at Valley Beth Shalom in Encino before becoming the head rabbi at a Simi Valley conservative synagogue. After that congregation merged with Etz Chaim in Thousand Oaks, Weissman joined Beth Haverim in 1988.

Weissman was known as Gary Johnson for more than three decades as a rabbi. The nontraditional Jewish name often evoked surprise, amusement and questions when people first met the rabbi. Two years ago he decided to officially change his first name to his Hebrew name, Gershon, and his last name back to the family's original name of Weissman.

In Russia, his grandfather, Abraham Weissman, was drafted to fight in the 1905 Russian-Japanese war. Jewish lives had no worth, so when Abraham Weissman's nonJewish fighting partner was killed he took the dead man's identity papers, along with his name, Katajansky. The family fled Russia under the name Katajansky and immigrated to the United States, passing through Ellis Island in New York where officials changed the family name to Johnson.

"Many of my congregants who have known me for decades actually are disappointed that my name is being changed from Johnson. They have grown to like my last name and will miss it," Weissman wrote in the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism newsletter.

Israel has been an important part of Weissman's life, and he often speaks in support of the country in sermons. It is where he met his wife, Sheva. It is where two of his three children live. His son, Gavriel, lives in the northern town of Safed, and his daughter, Aliza, lives in the south. Both are married. Weissman and his wife spend the month of July in Israel each year. Another daughter, Rachel, is an attorney in San Francisco.

Weissman first traveled to Israel in 1971 under the auspices of the Reform movement.

"I was in awe. I felt like a little boy in a candy shop. I never saw so many colorful Jewish people in my life," Weissman said. "The richness of the culture is incredible. "

Weissman, who has been to Israel many times since, especially enjoys interacting with Israelis.

"You can strike up a conversation with anyone in Israel. In America you float by your neighbor and only talk to each other if there's an earthquake," Weissman said. "In Israel you have much more intimate contact with your neighbors. They are there for each other."