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From the Mountain to Capitol Hill.

Rabbi Soroka: I’ll never forget this story—my wife won’t let me forget it. I was in the state capital working on important legislation, and there was gridlock—nothing was happening. It was already summer, and she said, “We have to go on a family trip.” I said, “What happens if there’s a breakthrough?” She replied, “Then we’ll turn right back.”

So we went on a family trip, and I remember we were on a mountaintop in Acadia National Park, Maine, with no phone reception. We got to the top of the mountain, and a voicemail came in from one of the legislative leaders. He said, “I’m in a meeting right now with the other three legislative leaders—the Senate President, the Speaker, and the Republican Senate leaders. We’re about to work out a compromise on the bill, but we wanted to discuss the provision you wanted. Give us a call as soon as possible.”

I stood at the edge of the mountain, unable to move an inch, because if I did, I would lose reception. My family waited for over an hour while I was on the phone. Then I told them, “I gotta go. I gotta fly back.”

Long story short, Rabbi Yitzchok Ehrman, who is now the COO of The Agudah, creatively managed to get me from the mountaintop to catch a plane from Bangor, Maine. Let’s just say it involved a generous incentive to one harried Uber driver who drove all the way to where I was. I flew back to Chicago while my wife had to drive 26 hours by herself with all the kids. It was a tremendous sacrifice on her part. I’m still paying it off.

Joke aside, I’m incredibly blessed to have a supportive, amazing family. Having a spouse and children who understand the importance of what we’re doing and are supportive is crucial. When they say, “We’re all in on the sacrifice,” it encourages us to keep doing what we do.

Help us to continue to do for the Klal. Please donate generously to your state or community campaign. 

https://www.charidy.com/wedo

Full interview with Rabbi Soroka:

Watch Interview:

In a candid conversation between Rabbi Yitzchok Hisiger and Rabbi Shlomo Soroka of Agudah’s Chicago office offers an inside look at the tireless work happening behind the scenes at The Agudah.  From his unexpected foray into advocacy — where he “faked it till he made it” — to negotiating scholarship tax credits from a mountaintop in Maine, Rabbi Soroka shares stories that reveal the high stakes and quiet victories that define his role.  

Rabbi Yitzchok Hisiger:  You’re busy, so I’ll dive straight into it. What brought you to the world of politics and askanus?

Rabbi Soroka: I’ve been with The Agudah for nine years now. Prior to that, I was the director of the St. Louis Kollel. I started off as a rosh chaburah, then I took over responsibility for the financials and operations of the kollel.

I was just trying to help my community in other ways, so I got a little engaged politically over there.

There was this fundraiser for the kollel, and I was trying to find an affordable way to bring in a celebrity. I invited Roy Blunt, who was the U.S. Senator for Missouri at the time. He was more than happy to participate.

A couple of weeks later, he called me and said, “I’m working on this bill, a big aid package to Israel. I want your take on it. Here’s my cell phone number. Call me back.”

I got pretty nervous, so I called The Agudah. I spoke to Abba Cohen, and I think it was A.D. Motzen who was on the line as well, and we walked through different aspects of the bill. I had no idea what I was talking about; I just knew I had to listen and repeat it as if I was some brilliant strategist. I guess I did a good enough job that it caught the eye of The Agudah team.

There were some other local issues I was helping out with, and I ended up running for school board over there at the behest of Rav Shmuel Kamenetsky. He said that I had to do it for Klal Yisroel. I did it; I lost the race, but we accomplished what we wanted to, so it was all good.

Rabbi Hisiger:  In those cases where you’re not successful, so many hours of work—probably hundreds—are invested into something where people don’t see the fruits of your labor. They can’t even appreciate that effort.

Rabbi Soroka: Well, the community I live in is very special and unique. They’re watching developments carefully and always asking how they can help. It would be nice to say it’s all fruitful, but ultimately, our job is to do the hishtadlus, and the outcome is up to Hakodosh Baruch Hu. We’re maaminim.

My wife, who has always been supportive, reminds me that we’re all puppets. This is our job: to do the work, but the outcome is up to Hashem, and He’s got no shortage of money. He’s very wealthy, so He can support us all.

But people really do appreciate what we’re doing. Sometimes I need to work on my anavah. I know I’m saying it tongue-in-cheek, but wherever I go, people, often complete strangers, approach me and say, “Thank you so much for all that you do.” Sometimes they’re more specific: “Thank you for helping me with X, Y, and Z,” “Thank you for that scholarship,” “Thank you for getting back my Medicaid,” “Thank you for fixing that food stamp issue,” or, “Thank you for helping me get a passport to visit my dying dad.” These things happen all the time. The community is very appreciative.

That’s good to hear, because The Agudah is a klal organization that only a select few get to work for, but many want to help. What would you tell them?

Whenever someone wants to get involved, I find it amazing, because there’s so much to do and we can’t do it all on our own. We have opportunities for everyone, whether it’s volunteering for events, get-out-the-vote campaigns, or other activities. We need people to engage, host politicians, be shul captains, attend meetings, or address community issues like safety or antisemitism. We need to show that we’re engaged and have community support.

Coming to Springfield is a long shlep—over seven hours of travel. So I say, if you want to get involved, buckle up, because we have a lot of work to do.

I find that most people, either on their own or when asked, are happy to get involved. Even those who can’t leave their homes can help by supporting The Agudah financially. I recently spoke with a prominent political donor who said, “What my party needs is an Agudah. You represent a small community and achieve so much. We need something similar.” I saw some envy in his demeanor that we have such a tight-knit, engaged constituency.

You mentioned often meeting politicians and various people in the halls of power. You’re in environments that aren’t necessarily conducive to Yiddishkeit. How do you navigate that?

One of the first pieces of advice someone gave me was to sit down with elected officials at a lounge or bar to cultivate relationships. I didn’t feel that it was appropriate for a ben Torah, so I sought guidance from Rabbi Zwiebel. Today, I might go to places where others are drinking, but I won’t consume alcohol.

Another lobbyist once asked me if wine and alcohol were not kosher because he noticed that I never drink. I explained that wine actually plays a big role in Jewish tradition, but I hold myself to a certain standard. He respected that. “You know,” he told me, “I was kind of hoping you were gonna say that.”

I was initially worried that maintaining these standards might hurt me professionally, but I realized that doing this to be mekadeish Sheim Shamayim only helped. When people see that you’re uncompromising and true to your values, they respect that. They appreciate that I’m here to represent my community.

What’s truly inspiring is how, alongside their public advocacy, Agudah personnel across the country also help families and individuals. This balance perfectly captures the dual role that The Agudah plays on behalf of both the tzibbur and the yochid.

Sometimes our most gratifying moments come from helping individuals, even if we can’t always assist them. I recently got a call from a distraught mother whose child was born with a very serious medical condition requiring a complex surgery not covered by their insurance. They were on public aid, and the procedure was out of state. I reached out to the insurance company’s lobbyist, and he assured me that he’d take care of it. A day later, he called back to say that the surgery would be covered. It’s still in process, but we’re cautiously optimistic.

A couple of weeks ago, someone reached out to our office because her family was kicked off Medicaid, their food stamps were cut in half, and her husband had a medical condition they couldn’t afford to treat. They were getting the runaround from the Department of Human Services and local agencies. Despite filing appeals, nothing was happening and no one was helping them. I reached out to my state senator, and within a day, everything was resolved.

There’s a family that was quite well-off who never applied for tax credit scholarships because they were actually one of the community’s big donors. One Shabbos, the father, with a heavy heart, confided in me that they had hit a rough financial patch. Everything had gone south for them, and unfortunately, it all culminated after the scholarship application period had closed. I told him that I’d look into it. It turned out that the application had just closed that Friday. I reached out to the scholarship organization we work closely with and they reopened the application just for him. No one else knew that the application link was live, yet he was able to apply and secure scholarships for all his kids.

Aside from the bigger issues my colleagues and I deal with both locally and nationally, sometimes it’s a communal matter that might seem trivial but is anything but—like the pool that the community uses. They ran into issues and couldn’t get a permit for occupancy because the gas company was delayed in turning on the gas.

It’s not a trivial matter. Yiddishe kids need a kosher outlet, and this was the only aquatic facility available for many of them. I contacted the gas company’s lobbyist, and within an hour, they turned on the gas. I also called the state representative, and despite the bureaucrat in charge of occupancy certificates being out of the country, we managed to get it done within a couple of hours. An hour before Shabbos, we got the certificate, and by Sunday, it was open swim for all.

Are these some of the recent issues you’ve been dealing with?

What comes to mind off the cuff. Currently, we’re assisting with a project that I can’t discuss publicly at this time. We’re leveraging political goodwill to ensure the process moves quickly, and we’re cautiously optimistic about it going through, be’ezras Hashem. 

Similarly, just before the summer, we assisted a yeshiva in Southern Illinois that needed health department clearance for a new property. By connecting them with their state representative and senator, we secured approval in just two days.

We’ve also been tackling the Evanston eruv project, a long-standing initiative with many, many hurdles. Thanks to support from my state senator and Cook County commissioner, we’ve made swift progress. We’re hopeful that it’ll soon be a reality.

The benefits of maintaining political relationships aren’t always immediate. They are the result of years of consistent engagement and community presence. When these efforts bear fruit, the rewards are truly worthwhile.

I do need to say, though, to bring it all into perspective: Would you conclude that The  Agudah is all about opening gas lines, pools, expediting property closings, arranging passports, Medicaid, or burials for meis mitzvah? I wouldn’t. There are gas companies, passport agencies, chesed shel emes organizations, and real estate lawyers for that. That’s not what The Agudah is all about.

The Agudah, however, is about ALL of that.

It’s about giving Klal Yisroel a platform, a unified voice, and a powerful network of resources across the country. Maintaining strategic relationships, opening doors, and bridging our communities nationally and globally. 

And when there’s a problem in Houston, or chas v’shalom a crisis for our nation, we have the collective power to step in on behalf of the tzibbur and fill in the gaps for individuals when needed.

We do all this and more so that Klal Yisroel has an address to turn to and a number to call. And when that call comes in, we take it. Because this is what we do.

Help us to continue to do for the Klal. Please donate generously to your state or community campaign.  https://www.charidy.com/wedo
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