Take a deep breath in. Now out. Welcome, to a new you. Welcome to a person who has, in just that small moment, grown into something more beautiful than before. Welcome to a life beyond your wildest dreams.
Today’s spotlight subject, and the topic of many conversations around Beit T’Shuvah recently, is Rabbi Michael Perice. In his life, he has taken many of those soul-shifting breaths—going from Michael Perice to Rabbi Michael Perice, and now to Senior Rabbi of Beit T’Shuvah, Rabbi Michael Perice.
Cherry Hill, New Jersey. 1986. Rabbi Michael gasps into life—born into a family overflowing with love. His father: an Italian whose father was a bookie with ties to the mob. “I grew up in a household where you weren’t allowed to say the word ‘mafia’…but I happened to have cousins who were in jail for being connected to the mafia.” His mother: a kind woman from a wealthy Jewish family who owned funeral homes. Nowadays, this may seem normal, but at the time, two people getting married from such drastically different backgrounds was like Romeo and Juliet times a million. If that pop culture reference didn’t work for you, think Sopranos meets Six Feet Under. Despite any cultural differences, his parents have always been madly in love—raising their three children with that same level of warmheartedness and compassion.
Leanne, Rabbi Michael’s sister, moved to Los Angeles, wrote her college thesis on Jay-Z, worked in the music industry, and then eventually became one of the forefront managers for social media influencers (before anyone even knew what those words meant).
Joe, Rabbi Michael’s brother, has more of a tragic story. Formerly a star athlete, he suffered a few injuries around the age of 18 (and was most likely genetically predisposed) and was diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. This rare disease leaves him in chronic pain all day every day—with very little to no solution or treatment. Today, he has found a way to build a life for himself as a licensed funeral director, helping many in their time of need…fighting every single day through the excruciating pain. “He is the strongest person I know.”
As a child with more questions than the world could provide answers for, Rabbi Michael started to feel rebellious. He revolted against many of the systems of power in front of him. A good Jewish boy at heart, but often a troublemaker. He experimented with drugs, but it never took hold enough to classify as an addiction. When he was 14, one of his best friends took his own life. This stopped Rabbi Michael’s days of innocence in its tracks. From this tragic event to his constant existential angst to working in his family’s funeral home, surrounded by death, Rabbi Michael was a child full of anxiety and, yet, a curious love for the beauty in the world.
Throughout his childhood, Rabbi Michael and his family were a part of their local reformed Jewish temple. When Rabbi Michael was ten-years-old, the Head Rabbi of their temple manipulated two congregants into killing his wife. “As a ten-year-old I remember thinking, ‘This is bullshit. I don’t believe in God. These guys are all fakes and phonies. I don’t know if I want to be Jewish.’” This shaped Rabbi Michael’s views on religion for many years. But this view was clearly misguided. Just like we say in the program, “Principals over personalities.” One rotten Rabbi does not spoil an entire religion. Rabbi Michael would obviously learn that later in life.
For college, Rabbi Michael initially attended Lynn University in Boca Raton, Florida (the Sixth Borough of New York), because they told him that they take freshmen on a cruise. How else would you pick a college to attend? “A year or two in I was like, ‘I am never going to graduate.’ It was the craziest party.” So, he transferred to Temple University in Philadelphia where he majored in political science and history. At this time in his life, Rabbi Michael’s aspirations were pointed more towards the White House rather than The House of Return. “I wanted to have a voice and I wanted to shape the world and, at that time, I thought that was the best way to do it.”
One day, he was coming home from school and was in a terrible car accident. The whiplash, the disks in his back—his whole body was riddled with pain.“In the middle of the night, my leg would go numb and it felt like my muscle was being ripped apart.” Instead of physical therapy or injections, the doctor’s first move was to prescribe him Vicodin. “It was almost instantaneous because what I didn’t realize is that not only was it treating the pain, but it was treating the depression and anxiety.” Quickly, he grew a tolerance. So, he went back to get more….and then more…and the more…you see where this is going. Eventually, his doctor told him that he wouldn’t prescribe him a higher dose. Rationally, he did what any of us would. He found a new doctor. “I had no idea it was an addiction. I would have never called it that. I was in pain. I was going to doctors. I didn’t know I was doctor shopping. I didn’t know what that meant.”
Once his sea of pills ran out, he went into a heavy detox. “I didn’t realize that I would be in a prison of my own body where minutes last for hours, hours last for days, and days last an eternity. I said, ‘I’ll do anything to never go through that again.’” If you think this is his white light moment, you would be wrong. This desire to never have to detox again didn’t make Rabbi Michael want to get sober, but rather, make sure he always had what he needed to stay medicated. His ability to be a high-functioning drug addict kept him under the radar of his family and friends.
In April of 2011, his well ran dry. Rabbi Michael called a friend, who is no longer with us, and told him that he would do anything to get feel okay again. Before he knew it, Rabbi Michael was standing over a line of heroin. “A calmness washed over me.” He watched the toilet flush as the drugs disappeared from his life. Deep breath in…and out. Welcome, to recovery.
After college, Rabbi Michael continued to work at his family’s funeral home and started to meet more and more Rabbis—unpacking his religious baggage along the way. This is where he found reconstructionism. The progressive nature of their belief attracted him. He started going to services again. A year into his recovery, there was a massive snowstorm. Every funeral was canceled except for one of them. Because of the heavy snowfall, an elderly woman could not attend her brother’s funeral and was forced to sit in the car and wait. Rabbi Michael couldn’t handle this. So, he asked if he could get in the car and sit next to her. He asked a simple question, “Will you tell me about your brother?” She went on to describe their incredible journey together, their deep love for each other, and how, with that love, they survived the brutality of the Holocaust. He asked if they could say the Mourner’s Kaddish together. “Her face looked like I had given her the greatest gift anybody has ever given anybody. I walked out of the car in a daze. I thought, ‘What was that and how do I do that?’” A year later he was in rabbinical school.
By the time he was ordained from the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College with a Master of Arts in Hebrew Letters, the pandemic had hit and the Rabbi job market had dried up. That didn’t stop him. Rabbi Michael completed a unit of clinical pastoral education at Einstein Medical Center, where he served as chaplain and later got a job working for a local synagogue in Cinnaminson, New Jersey.
You got mail! Rabbi Michael’s inbox shouted as he noticed an email from a Jessica Fishel at some strange Jewish rehab in Los Angeles offering to perform a musical about addiction at their temple. To say he was excited is an understatement. After Freedom Song performed, Rabbi Michael was absolutely blown away—the mission of Beit T’Shuvah, the philosophy. All of it. A little under two years later, the position of Senior Rabbi opened up. He knew he had to throw his kippah in the ring. After a few Guest Rabbi spots, he is now officially our Senior Rabbi.
From the second you meet him, you will be certain that he speaks the truth when he says that he is, “someone who deeply loves people. If being a Rabbi meant studying in a library all day, I wouldn’t be a Rabbi. I do this job for people. I want to be a part of people’s lives and I want them to be a part of my life.”
Something to note about Rabbi Michael is that of every single guest Rabbi we had come lead our services (I would tell you how many there were, but I don’t think I can count that high), he was the only one to say hi to me first—the only one to shake my hand, look me in the eyes, and introduce himself to me before I had a chance to introduce myself to him. He made the effort to do that…because that’s who he is—a Rabbi for the people.
Rabbi Michael, the job of Senior Rabbi at Beit T’Shuvah is undoubtedly going to be filled with love, labor, and loss. But each and every one of us has deep faith in you. So, take a deep breath in…and out…and from all of us in the Beit T’Shuvah community:
Welcome.