The Rabbi Hunt
Moonlight. Park. Bench. Third Date. "So, do you have a Rav? Like, someone to ask?" (OK, that's the guy asking. Not my style question.) "Um, well. I ask Y. when I have questions. He's got Semicha. He looks it up for me if he doesn't know." (Nothing like illustrious relatives. The whole learning in Kollel thing comes in useful sometimes.) "I mean real questions, you know, life questions. Not Halachic questions". "Oh." (Long silence.) "No, not really. I used to ask a couple of Rabbis stuff sometimes, in seminary. But I never get round to phoning them nowadays." If I like him I may bother trying to explain more. Usually I don't. I do feel faintly guilty about it. "Not having a Rav", that is. I had to memorize Mesilat Yesharim in High school. That whole paragraph with the Rabbi being up on a hill, able to guide lost and clueless lil' you through the maze of life. So Rabbis are the kind of thing one needs, ri