During my early years of cantorial school, I noticed a significant gap in my studies. While the coursework included extensive classes on biblical grammar, liturgy and text study, I received only surface-level training in providing pastoral care, and little attention was given to my character development, spiritual formation, or to learning to tend to my own well-being as I prepared for a career in religious leadership.

I was being taught, sure. But was I being formed? That question would later inform my understanding of clergy burnout as structural — rooted not in individual weakness, but in how seminaries are training clergy long before they enter the field.

As a future cantor aspiring to guide community members through meaningful rituals and lifecycle transitions, I felt unprepared both for how to best support congregants on their Jewish journeys and how to protect myself from burnout while doing so. I kept hoping that training would come, but by the end of my second year, I realized I would need to seek additional education outside of the seminary walls.

I decided to apply to a part-time Master of Social Work program at New York University, which I completed at night and on the weekends, alongside my cantorial studies. My seminary pushed back, saying it was unnecessary, but I felt strongly that if I was going to thrive in the role, I would need both an expansive education and an experience that would tend to my growth.

My experience is part of a wider problem. Atra’s recent report showing widespread burnout in the rabbinate and articles highlighting similar trends among cantors showcase the seriousness of the issue. Meanwhile, seminaries have long expressed confusion over why prospective students are becoming increasingly hesitant to enroll in their training programs.

Burnout is, of course, not unique to clergy. Research comparing clergy burnout with other vocations shows that rabbis and cantors experience burnout at levels similar to other helping professionals —and even lower than police and other emergency responders — yet face a uniquely unbounded role marked by constant emotional labor, blurred boundaries, and around-the-clock expectations that may require unique skills to combat.

And while we may be quick to recognize burnout by only its hallmark of exhaustion and simply propose self-care in response, the research is clear that other dimensions of burnout prevalent among clergy — such as job-related cynicism that emerges over time, or feelings of diminished effectiveness caused by systemic barriers — require solutions centered in personal development, relational health and structural and institutional support.

So then why the confusion? It seems simple to me: to prepare rabbis and cantors to thrive in their roles, graduate-level theological education needs to catch up by grounding clergy training in intentional formation and practical skill-building, both central to preventing these trends and promoting long-term success.

It’s time to move to action. We need to enact evidence-based practices that support clergy during their education and beyond, helping them to build resilience, not just master content or complete degree requirements.

To find those evidence-based practices, we can look to research findings coming out of academia and the ways that other faith communities have implemented the research’s recommendations in their seminary programs.

I can vouch for the necessity of applying these practices and research outcomes. In my social work program, I learned the relational theories, justice skills and psychology chops I knew I would need in order to succeed as a cantor, and which I rely heavily on in my clergy role today. I gained clinical skills that equipped me to explore the personhood of the individual sitting in front of me while also learning to maintain boundaries, protect myself from becoming burnt out as a helping professional, and flourish as a person who loves what she does.

In 2021, I went on to pursue a PhD in Practical Theology with a focus in the Psychology of Religion from Boston University to further deepen my knowledge of this intersection. As a doctoral candidate, I’m part of a research team collecting and publishing data about clergy burnout risks, flourishing potential, formation goals, and the crucial role seminaries play in shaping rabbis- and cantors-in-training.

Our empirical study at a Jewish seminary — the first of its kind — found that students value the formation they already experience through the school’s supportive social and academic cultures, impactful t’filah (prayer) program and processing spaces, and relational growth studying in chevruta (partnered study) and with professors and mentors, among other things. The seminarians also recognized that as the needs of the Jewish community change, their role is changing too, and that developing the relational capacities to facilitate meaningful community is the only way forward.

Students expressed a strong desire to learn more about responsible uses of power, spiritual abuse and t’shuva (making amends). the social sciences and mental health, and how to cultivate personal virtue capacities such as compassion and humility in order to promote their well-being. The students requested training in the kinds of skills I gained through my social work education, citing them as essential both to their effectiveness as spiritual leaders and to their personal sustainability as helping professionals.

These results are encouraging and show us what it can look like when seminary systems are enthusiastic about and invest in their students’ formation — and they must stir us to action. Potential solutions include establishing or building upon already-existing formation programs to shape future rabbis and cantors as whole people — programs that attend to the strengths and vulnerabilities students bring into their training, and which engage in regular evaluation of their growth. Programs must shift from frameworks that approach burnout as an individual problem to one that highlights systemic challenges and prepares students as healthy, holy vessels with capacities to navigate them—from one that simply educates students to one that forms them for leadership.

Relatedly, and importantly, seminaries must adopt an intersectional lens that acknowledges the unique challenges faced by clergy of marginalized social locations (e.g., women, queer people, people of color) and support those students in developing the tools to respond to the additional obstacles they may encounter in the field.

The impact of this will be broad. By supporting future clergy members’ development and well-being, we also help them better serve their eventual communities from places of strength. Research in Christian seminaries shows promising results: when seminarians are supported in their struggles and growth, and studying in institutions that invest in their personal and moral formation along with their knowledge acquisition, flourishing is not only possible, but likely.

We no longer have to wonder about what to do, nor fear that the next generation of Jewish clergy will enter the field without the capacities to thrive in their work. It’s time we integrate the research into clergy training programs and ongoing professional development to address issues of burnout, long-term sustainability, and well-being.

Rabbis and cantors shouldn’t have to pursue additional degrees to flourish in their work and learn to protect their mental, emotional, and spiritual health. Seminaries can be a part of the solution, if they invest in the work.

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