If I were to tell you about a country music-singing, Orthodox rabbi from Nashville, Tennessee, who moves to Germany and becomes a sex therapist to Jews, Muslims and Christians, you’d probably think it was the set-up to a joke, or that I was describing the plot of the latest, must-see Netflix drama.
But truth, as they say, is often stranger than fiction, and there is no punchline here. Dr Caleb Jacobson really is all of these things: a Tennessee-born, now Mainz-based psychosexual therapist, who specialises in solving the sexual problems of the Abrahamic religions, and is about to receive his semichah (rabbinical ordination). He’s also the author of several books – including the recently published Sex Therapy with Religious Patients: Working with Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Communities and the founder of the School of Sex Therapy. In addition, he’s a biblical scholar and a podcast host.
“I grew up in the South, and there are three things they tell you not to talk about: religion, politics, and sex,” he jokes. “And I talk about two of them all the time.”
For Jacobson, 41, who follows a long-line of Jewish sex therapists, from Freud to Magnus Hirschfeld and Dr Ruth Westheimer, sex therapy is both a passion and a vocation. “Judaism sees sex as a mitzvah – a commandment,” he says. “It’s a holy act, and I help people connect with that. Sexuality is the core of human experience and who we are as people. As a Jew, I can’t think of anything more meaningful than helping people build strong families, create intimacy, and repair their relationships. It’s about tikkun olam – repairing the world – one person at a time.”
His mantra is “making sex and relationships less complicated”, helping his clients reconnect with themselves and their partners in a way that feels authentic and natural. “I think the field of sex therapy has overcomplicated everything,” he says. “We’ve created all these labels and identities, which can be really confusing for people.”
Jacobson’s clients come from all walks of life and backgrounds, and include strictly Orthodox Jews and Muslims, many of whom are from the Middle East, something he finds ironic in the current political climate. He says there is universality in human sexuality and in the issues people face. “Sex is something that should unite us, not divide us. It’s an innate part of our human experience, shared across cultures, religions, and identities. Many problems stem from repressing people’s sexuality.”
Nevertheless, he does find that people’s religious backgrounds influence the types of sexual issues they bring to his consulting room.
Among his Orthodox Jewish clients, issues often stem from a lack of comprehensive sex education. “One of the most common problems I encounter is premature ejaculation, often due to sexual anxiety,” he says.
Less religious Jews commonly grapple with how to hold space for both their sexual and religious identities. “I see a lot of sexual guilt and shame. Catholic guilt is about having sex at all, while Jewish guilt is around physical difficulties having sex, partly because sex is an obligation in marriage.
"Guilt is not always tied to religion though – it’s something deeply ingrained in our culture.” As for Muslim couples, it’s cultural conservatism and a lack of sex education that leads to problems in the bedroom. “I see a lot of issues with low sexual desire among women, and infidelity among men,” he says.
The reasons for unconsummated marriages vary by faith. “For Orthodox Jews, it’s often the premature ejaculation issue. For Muslims, it might be due to female sexual pain," he says. “For Christians, it might stem from a wife discovering her husband’s use of pornography. The issues manifest differently, but the underlying need for connection and understanding is universal.” Being non-judgmental – and unshockable – is a prerequisite of his job. One man confessed to enjoying the sensation of putting worms inside his urethra; then there was the German who dressed as a Nazi while having sex with other men.
Raised in a secular Jewish family in Nashville – also known as Music City – Jacobson was a late starter both in academia and Orthodoxy. He spent his early years immersed in the music scene. “I played, I travelled, I recorded,” he recalls in his Southern drawl. “I got to work with some really big country and bluegrass artists, even Grammy winners such as Charlie Daniels and Del McCoury. It was a lot of fun. But then, at 23, my parents said, you’d probably better go to college.
“I wanted to study biblical studies and biblical archaeology, but they thought that was a terrible idea,” he laughs. “And to be fair, they were right – there’s not much of a career path there.” He settled on psychology, although he also pursued his passion for biblical studies, earning two bachelor and four master’s degrees and, eventually, two doctorates, including one in biblical archaeology.
It was during an internship with the Army Substance Abuse Programme that he found his calling. “I was working with young soldiers who were dealing with issues around alcohol and sex. They’d come to me with questions about sex, and I tell you, I didn’t know anything – I had no answers. I knew I needed training in that area.” By the time he was halfway through his psychology master’s, he was already certain he wanted to specialise in sex therapy.
His journey to Mainz began unexpectedly. While on an archaeological dig in Israel, he received a research grant to spend a summer at the University of Mainz, the city where one of his heroes, French rabbi Rashi, had studied. “My father’s family is originally from Regensburg, and while I was here, I connected with relatives and learned about my grandmother’s experiences during the war. It was incredibly moving and made a huge impact on me spiritually.”
By the end of his stay, the chair of archaeology at the university had offered him the chance to pursue his doctorate. He moved to Mainz in early 2018 and has remained ever since, building a thriving practice that operates entirely by word of mouth.
He admits that people are often surprised when he tells them what he does - especially religious Jews: “But,” he adds, “once they understand that sex is a mitzvah, they’re very open to it. In fact, I get a lot of referrals from rabbis.” Neither did he experience any negativity for the groundbreaking ‘Menstrubation Initiative’ study he led into whether masturbation could be used to alleviate menstrual pain. "We found that masturbation significantly reduced the severity and frequency of menstrual pain," he explains. "Interestingly, I didn’t face any pushback from the Orthodox community. Perhaps it’s because it was framed as a scientific exploration.”
He believes he hasn’t been offered certain jobs because he’s an Orthodox Jew, but can only recall one negative experience in the therapy room, when a patient behaved disrespectfully and walked out, calling him a ‘f***ing’ Jew’. Generally though, his Orthodoxy simply makes him a talking point. He certainly cuts an unlikely figure at sex toy exhibitions, with his blue suit, kippa and tzitzit. “When I go to events, people always want to sit next to me and ask questions,” he says. “Sometimes it’s a bit much - but it shows how much people need this kind of help.”
Until 2023, Jacobson was a long-time member of the AASECT (American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counsellors and Therapists), where he was founder and chair of the SIG group on sexuality and religion. But after October 7, when the Association failed to immediately condemn the Hamas atrocities or to acknowledge the sexual violence that took place - which he says went against everything the organisation stood for, and was “unabashedly because of antisemitism” - he and 17 Jewish colleagues collectively resigned. He has since started a new organisation, The International Association of Psychosexual Therapists (IAPST), which now has members in 10 countries and is growing fast.
Later this year, in addition to his rabbinical ordination, he has another book out, this time as editor: the Routledge International Handbook on Sex Therapy and Religion. “It’s a volume with essays by 43 different authors,” he says. “43 authors: religious clergy, religious scholars, sex therapists, Christians, Jews and Muslims, from Europe, from Egypt, all over the world. I tell you, it’s like herding cats.”
It’s an unusual job for a rabbi, but his family has always been very supportive. “My mother tells everybody her son’s a sex therapist - the lady at the bank, the lady at the pharmacy… she tells ‘em all.”
