February 20, 2026

Halfway through his first year as leader of the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center,  Rabbi Josh Ratner told The Journal that “I wanted to try everything before I knew for sure what I wanted to do.” And after five less-than-fulfilling years as a commercial litigator and 14 years after his ordination, the San Diego native has found himself in a job he loves.

He found himself dissatisfied with the law pretty quickly. It was a matter of two things: “One was feeling conflicted between my Jewish self and my work requirements, not being able to navigate those two in a cohesive manner. The second was – I had started at a large New York law firm – and I found that to be a bit dehumanizing,” he said.

He was one of many lawyers, and the focus was on working as many hours as one could, doing a lot of grunt work. “It wasn’t as analytically inclined as law school had been – and as I had hoped law would be. The juicy stuff, the meatiest cases were reserved for the partners. We junior associates had to do more the scut work. It didn’t feel fulfilling to me.  And I was working really long hours.” His interest in law cooled after one year, he said. “I wrestled back and forth. We were living in Connecticut at the time. My wife was in training at Yale to become a doctor. So I tried moving to a smaller firm in Connecticut to see if that would change my perspective, to see if the basic issue was working for a big firm. But I found similar issues there. It was a dramatic change he said, but one he welcomed. “Having spent eight years in New York, I was ready to see greenery, foliage, trees, those kinds of things again.”

Telling the story from his new office that offers an unimpeded view of the San Gabriel Mountains, Ratner is relaxed and all smiles. For a moment, the rabbi turned to his childhood. “We weren’t a very observant home,” he said. “My parents were inclined to empower [him and his sister] to explore Judaism more substantially than they ever had. Both of them had been raised relatively Reform in practice. They weren’t avid shul-goers. But when it was time for my slightly older sister and me to go to school, they decided it would be a good project to put us in a nearby Jewish school.” It was a good decision, he said. “They grew, too. They became more observant in some of their practices – through us in some ways.”

What changed? “I was too young to know how I was before,” he said. But he reached back for several details. As a family, they started to observe Friday night dinners more – whether with family or friends. His parents made friends with the families of other students, and it gradually became an enlarged circle. “We also started going to services a bit more on Friday nights and Saturday mornings. It’s a process,” he said.

He also spent a year in Israel studying at the Pardes Institute, something that might have influenced his later choice of career. “I loved the opportunity to be fully immersed in Jewish living,” he said. “Something about the totality of that experience spoke to me.”

He was attracted to the law, because he was “always passionate about issues of justice, equality and fighting for those who may have been marginalized or not had the opportunity to advocate for themselves,” he explained.

He also grew up during the halcyon days of legal dramas on television – “’L.A. Law,’ ‘Boston Legal’ – those kinds of shows,” he said. “I saw law as exciting, intellectually engaging and also a chance to advocate for good causes – that’s what drove me.”

But deciding on a career in law was “more a process of elimination.  I knew I didn’t want to go into medicine. I don’t like blood or guts or anything internal about the body despite the fact I am married to a cancer surgeon. I knew I didn’t want to go into finance. It wasn’t appealing.”    

He wasn’t sure what else to do, “I had a background where I liked writing, I liked debate and advocating for causes, a whole host of issues. Law became the logical next step after college.”

After law school, Ratner spent a year clerking for a judge in Memphis, Tenn. while his wife was finishing her last year of medical school. Then they moved to Connecticut. He realized it was time to explore other options. The rabbinate “quickly emerged as an intriguing possibility,” he said.

“As I was opening my antenna to see what else was out there, I started to meet rabbis who were doing work outside of congregations and schools – those had been the primary modalities to me of what it meant to be a rabbi, doing work in social justice organizations, at universities, at Hillel. All of this expanded my awareness of what rabbis could do. I was looking for something a bit wider, not just limiting myself to one specific avenue.” Becoming a rabbi appealed to the attorney. The issues he had encountered in law school, “advocating for justice, a vision of a moral society – was something I actually could do as a rabbi. That opened my mind to thinking that [the rabbinate] is a career I could feel passionate about.” As a bonus, it could give him “a Jewish proximity to continuing to learn and to practice and have it be a part of what I do.”

He is married to Dr. Elena Ratner, a gynecologic oncologist specializing in ovarian malignancies, and they are the parents of Dimitri, Eli, Gabby and Sasha.

“She wanted me to be happy and fulfilled,” the rabbi said. “She was supportive. She knew I wasn’t [fulfilled] in law. She had spent some of the time I was in Israel with me. She had an appreciation of how much that experience meant to me.”

He said from the time he entered rabbinical school, “I have loved every minute of it. It has been a love affair. I have been so happy to find fulfillment in what I am doing. This vocation is sacred work. Every day I feel blessed.”

As he prepared this month for his 10th life-altering trip to Israeli war zones and victim families since Oct.7, 2023, Chabad of the Valley’s Rabbi Yanky Kahn reflected on the changes he’s seen.

“What’s beautiful,” he said, “is how the world is getting involved. The whole world really feels the pain. Like I can say my wife and kids have adopted so many new people to our family.” He means this literally. “You know, you call your mother every day. And you also call her before Shabbos.

“So many people my wife [Hindy] and daughter [Chana] text before Shabbos, checking up on them. When we say we are going to Israel, I think the people from Israel were more excited that we were coming – like the widows, the orphans. They reached out and said ‘What can we do to help?’

“It’s a very special connection.”

Rabbi Kahn has also noticed a change in the attitudes in the state of Israel — a ”national change,” he called it. “People are asking for tefillin,” he said. “They are getting closer to Godliness. Really. You see the hostages themselves saying that they found God in the tunnel. They spoke to God. First they spoke to this crack, then they spoke to a light. People are coming closer to God.”

Why does he think this is happening?

“The only thing we have in life is Hashem,” he said. “The only things that are really important are your wife, your kids, your family, your community for God – that is all that is important in life. Nothing else is.”

It’s fine to have a nice car and a nice house, he granted. “Beautiful. Everyone should have them. But you are not taking those things to the next world. The only thing important, the only thing you are taking is the kindness you do, the caring you do.”

In the 78 years since statehood, Israelis have not been known for their religiosity. But if you go to Israel now, you can really see a change. “You notice they have been pretty anti-religious. Funny, you see Israelis here … I was just walking out of a hospital this morning, and I met an Israeli. I said ‘Do you want to put on tefillin?’ He said ‘I am going to do it the second I get home. I promise you.’ In Israel, they weren’t so in love [with Judaism].  But now I think their attitude has changed. People now are much more open.”

Rabbi Kahn did not exactly say the words “the war has had a positive effect.” But in a sense, yes it has, he said. “In a way, the war has brought us closer to Yiddishkeit, closer to Godliness.

“Unfortunately, though, when things are going good for people, they don’t count their blessings.

“They don’t stop and say ‘Thank you, Hashem.’

“When things are challenging, you turn to Hashem. So yes, you can say a lot of people have come  closer to God since Oct.7. We have put up a lot of mezuzahs and given out a lot of tefillin.”

But Rabbi Kahn emphasized this point. “Before the war,” he said, “this was not something we would do when taking another kind of trip, say a JLI [Chabad – Jewish Learning Institute] trip to Israel. We wouldn’t be giving out mezuzahs. Before, it wasn’t common. Now it is.”

He described a surprising scene on a recent flight from Israel.  “I went up and down the plane with a pair of tefillin,” said the rabbi. “And I can tell you 60% of the plane put on tefillin! There was such a feeling of love and brotherhood. If the tefillin was not taken by someone, if a person said no, it was just left quietly.

“There was such a feeling of everyone saying ‘thank you.’  A beautiful feeling of one family, which we all really are.”   

The rabbi kept bringing the conversation around to a central thesis: “No one wants to say that war is positive … but …” Doing that, he thinks, is akin to describing a close relative as strikingly unattractive – in the relative’s presence.

“I don’t wish this on anyone,” said the rabbi, “but it happens sometimes when you are going through a difficult period that you awaken different strengths, different opportunities. I just hope and pray we don’t go through any challenging times, and we shouldn’t be tested. I really hope that when things are good, people go to the synagogue and put on tefillin.”

To make certain his point about daily tefillin was understood, the rabbi said “Even if you are traveling to Hawaii or Fiji, make sure you take tefillin and put them on. Don’t just leave them at home and wait for times that are challenging. Appreciate all the good that you have now.”

But still, his heart “bleeds for the widows and orphans.”

The impact of the war, he thinks, is far from over. “I was just in a taxi, speaking to the driver, which I love doing. Drivers give you an update like no one else. I was trying to figure out if life was coming back to normal. The driver said his son was killed on Oct.7. It feels as if every family has a member or best friend or neighbor who was affected. As Jewish people, when someone else is in pain, it impacts all of us.”

To a non-resident, Israel looks normal.

For Rabbi Kahn, a normal appearance is not a positive. “Personally, I still feel the broken hearts from Oct. 7,” he said. “I am far from over. My message to everyone reading this is, appreciate all the good we have. Sometimes it takes a tragedy for us to appreciate. Moshiach will come when God sees how much brotherly love there is.”

Fast Takes with Rabbi Kahn

Jewish Journal: What is the most memorable moment of the last two  and a half years?

Rabbi Kahn: I was in total shock when I was asked to somehow produce a food truck [that would cost $30,000]. It was like going to someone and asking for a hundred million dollars. I was shocked by the chutzpah of the question. The fact we made it happen is very special.

J.J.: Where do you go for information?

R.K.: Israel National News, collive.com and chabadofthevalley.com/Israelrelief.

J.J.: What is your favorite music?

R.K.: Shlomo Carlebach.