I first met Arnie Weiner in 1975. I was 23, in Detroit pursuing a relationship that ended three months after my arrival. One day, I sauntered into the local BBYO office and inquired whether they had any part-time jobs available. Esther, the secretary, said no — but they were looking for a full-time AZA director. “Sure, that sounds great,” I said, and Esther introduced me to Arnie Weiner, the BBYO regional director. It was the first day of my career in Jewish community service, which has now spanned close to a half-century. 

Arnie was my first supervisor and without question the finest I ever had in my career in the Jewish community. Supervision was important; we met every week, without fail. He required that I prepare an agenda in advance, and we talked through each item thoroughly. 

I remember one supervisory session right after a regional conference. I told him that while the program went over well, I was frustrated that the teen chairs of the event did not step up. 

He said: “So you’re saying that the program was a success, the process was a failure.” 

Arnie taught me perhaps the most important lesson I have ever learned as a Jewish professional: Ultimately, we are not in the program planning business but the people business. The programs we planned with BBYO-ers were mediums to engage teens, connect them to Jewish life, teach them leadership skills, and provide them with opportunities to learn and grow. Over the course of his long tenure as executive director of Michigan Region BBYO, Arnie engaged, educated and elevated thousands of teens, many of whom went on to become leaders of their communities.

Our time in the BBYO office was strictly business. There was always work to be done. But every Friday at noon, the staff headed to the Southfield Mall for Coney dogs. Arnie always ordered the same thing: “two coneys with heavy everything” (hot dogs piled high with mustard and onions). Being kosher, I also ordered the same thing every week: grilled cheese and fries. This was a time for friendship, for warmth, for joking around. Arnie understood the value of this collegiality among members of our professional team and knew that a time and a place had to be reserved for it.

The two years I had the great privilege of working with Arnie were among the most important two years of my life. It was Arnie who helped me understand our responsibility to our community, and to the professionals I supervise. A half-century later, as the co-founder and executive director of the Jewish Grandparents Network, his lessons still guide my work. I think of Arnie and I am reminded that we are not in the programming business — we are in the people business. If our programs are a quantitative success but the process of nurturing relationships, elevating people and building community is a failure, what have we achieved?  We bring together professionals and volunteers and collaborate with organizations. Together, we seek to elevate Jewish life and our Jewish community. And as professionals and as human beings, we learn and grow together. 

Arnie Weiner was also an “ish tam,” a simple man. His wardrobe consisted mainly of slacks, short-sleeve shirts, and Hush Puppy shoes.  He drove a tan four-door Dodge Dart and lived in a simple home in a Detroit suburb, Royal Oak. 

But in our Jewish tradition, an ish tam connotes not only someone who lives simply, but one who lives with honor, humility and dignity. The phrase first appears in Genesis 6:9 in introducing Noah: “This is the line of Noah: Noah was a righteous man; he was a blameless man [ish tamim] in his generation; Noah walked with God.

Arnie passed away last month at the age of 79. Without question, he was a righteous man who walked with God. Our Jewish profession and our Jewish people were blessed by his life. Now his memory is a blessing.

David Raphael is the co-founder and executive director of the Jewish Grandparents Network.