GTU Voices - Interview with PhD Student Rabbi Margie Jacobs

Rabbi Margie Jacobs, a Reconstructionist rabbi, spiritual coach, and educator, is a PhD student in Theology and Ethics at the Graduate Theological Union. Since her ordination at RRC in 2000, Margie has served communities as a rabbi, led retreats and meditation through the Institute for Jewish Spirituality, brought art as a spiritual practice to communities across the country, and has taught Jewish texts and creativity at the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College and the Academy for Jewish Religion–California. At the GTU, Margie is exploring the intersections of mystical literature, embodiment, and spiritual experience—with a passion for making these profound teachings accessible within and beyond the Jewish community.

GTU: What key experiences, people, or places have shaped your path toward doctoral study, and how did they influence your decision to pursue a PhD?

Rabbi Margie Jacobs (RMJ): I grew up in Jewish day school, where learning Jewish texts was always more than just acquiring information—it was a deeply spiritual experience. It was about connection: to the sacred words themselves, to my teachers, to the community I studied with, and to something far beyond me. I remember reciting verses from the Torah by heart and receiving a little sticker in my notebook—a small gesture that reflected the joy and love surrounding Jewish learning in that setting. That early combination of text and context—the words themselves and the nurturing environment in which I encountered them—set me on the path I’m still walking today.

Before rabbinical school, I spent a year in Israel and studied Kabbalah in Los Angeles with Rabbi Jonathan Omer-man. One day, he said to me, “Why don’t you just get a PhD in Zohar?” I didn’t pursue it then for various reasons, but that suggestion lodged itself in my heart. Every five years or so, the idea would resurface, like a little bat kol—a “still small voice”—asking, “What about that PhD?”

Over the decades, I’ve immersed myself in the study of Zohar and Hasidut with remarkable teachers: Drs. Melila Hellner-Eshed in Jerusalem, Daniel Matt, and Art Green. I’ve been blessed to learn from them in different contexts—sometimes intensively, sometimes in smaller study groups. More recently, I’ve begun studying with Avraham Leader in Jerusalem, whose teachings on Lurianic Kabbalah have opened my eyes to how profoundly this material serves as a bridge between the Zohar and Hasidic thought. 

I’m also fascinated by how mystical traditions resonate with contemporary spiritual practices. Seeing the film Fantastic Fungi sparked my interest in psilocybin as a tool for exploring oneness—the same oneness I had been encountering in Zoharic study. This led me to consider how mystical texts can inform and be informed by altered states of consciousness. Alongside this, I’ve worked extensively with somatic practices like Continuum, developed by Emily Conrad, which approaches oneness through embodied awareness. These streams of learning—text, community, mystical experience, and embodiment—have converged to bring me to doctoral study now. 

GTU: How would you describe your research interests, and what questions are you most passionate about exploring at this stage of your academic journey? 

RMJ: I came to the GTU with a clear focus on the Idra Rabbah, a section of the Zohar that explores the relationship between oneness and dualism, and the healing of the divine aspects that appear in separation. My interest began with a paper I wrote in 2018 for a class with Dr. Daniel Matt, and the topic has stayed alive for me ever since. I’ve studied it further with Dr. Melila Hellner-Eshed, who has written extensively on the Idra Rabbah. 

In the text, the imagery is extraordinary—it’s about “healing the face of the Divine.” For me, this raises questions about how mystical traditions imagine repairing cosmic rifts, and how those visions might intersect with contemporary spiritual practices, whether through mindfulness or psychedelic experience. 

Right now, I find myself delving more deeply into the writings of Isaac Luria. His work has become a kind of linchpin in my thinking—a bridge between the Zohar and later Hasidic texts. I don’t yet know exactly how my dissertation will take shape, and I find that exciting. My process is emergent: I begin with a clear seed of inquiry, but as I work, the research itself begins to unfold and show me new possibilities. That openness to emergence is something I also practice as a facilitator in the Jewish Studio Project, where visual art and reflective writing become a gateway to insights that words alone can’t reach. 

GTU: What made the GTU stand out to you as the right place to pursue your doctoral work? 

RMJ: I’ve had the GTU on my radar for nearly three decades. In the mid-1990s, before starting rabbinical school, I even called Daniel Matt—then teaching at the GTU—to talk about pursuing a PhD in Zohar. Life took me in other directions, but the connection lingered. In 2018, I took a class with him here, and I later audited Dr. Deena Aronoff’s course on Jewish mysticism. 

What draws me most is the GTU’s interdenominational character, paired with faculty whose work deeply resonates with mine. The Beit Midrash I participated in last semester with Sam Shonkoff was a highlight—I even brought in several of my rabbinic friends to join the sessions. GTU feels like both an intellectual home and a place where I can connect my academic work to the broader Jewish community in Berkeley. 

GTU: How does receiving the Presidential Scholarship shape what’s possible for you in your doctoral journey? 

RMJ: It has been essential. At this stage of my career, financial support is what makes it possible for me to step back from some professional commitments and focus more fully on my doctoral work. I still teach—at the Academy for Jewish Religion, California, for example—and facilitate the Jewish Studio Process, along with individual coaching and other creative projects. But the scholarship allows me to choose the work that most aligns with and supports my research, rather than taking on everything out of necessity. 

GTU: What are you most excited to dive into—whether it’s research, community, teaching, or something else—as you begin your PhD at the GTU? 

RMJ: Text study is my happy place—there’s nothing I love more than diving into sacred language, whether as a learner or a teacher. I’m also looking forward to the kind of deep, ongoing conversation with my advisor and other students that is only possible in a doctoral program. 

Beyond that, my reason for doing this—rather than simply continuing the rich work I’ve already been engaged in—is to create the space, accountability, and scholarly support to write more, to shape what I’ve been learning for decades into contributions that will be useful to others. 

GTU: What impact do you hope your work will have on your field, your community, or the world? 

RMJ: Studying these texts has profoundly shaped my relationship with divine oneness, and with the sense of belonging and connection that flows from it. In a world that often feels fragmented and polarized, I hope my work will make this wisdom more accessible—to Jews and non-Jews alike—as a source of healing and reconnection. 

I’m equally committed to restoring awareness of the Shekhinah, the feminine, immanent aspect of the Divine, and her place in our understanding of sacred reality. For me, the work is about holding together transcendence and immanence, oneness and multiplicity, and helping others encounter the sacred presence that is both beyond and within our everyday material world. 

GTU: What advice would you offer to others considering doctoral study in religion or theology? 

RMJ: If you hear that inner voice—however faint—saying “Do this,” listen to it. In my case, it persisted for decades before I acted on it. For some, the right response is to jump in with both feet; for others, it’s to take small steps toward it. Either way, follow the path in a way that feels sustainable and true for you. 

Be clear about why you’re doing it. That clarity will sustain you through the hard work. For me, doctoral study is not simply about acquiring information—it’s about Torah Lishma, study for its own sake, or as one Hasidic master interprets it, “for the sake of hey,” the letter in the Divine Name associated with the Shekhinah. In other words, I’m doing this to be in relationship with the Divine. The information matters, but the heart of the work is the moment of learning itself, which is always, for me, a spiritual experience.