EVERYTHING LOOKS THE SAME BUT NOTHING IS THE SAME
For part of the year, I am fortunate enough to live in Santa Barbara, California, a city 90% of whose population is White and Latino. Spanish is spoken here almost as much as English. People look happy; so many smiles as you pass them on the street. And why not? The air is clean, the ocean and mountains are beautiful, the sun is shining and the crops recently picked mostly by Latinos mean the produce is fresh for everyone. A sense of peace seems to envelop this place from the mountains, through the valleys and to the sea. It’s a slower pace of life, a welcome feature compared to America’s larger cities.
However, though everything looks the same nothing is the same. There has been an astounding rupture. Suddenly, and overnight, Latinos in this community find themselves caught up in a web so eerily familiar to Jews throughout history.
They are afraid, sharing stories of roundups in the fields, in stores, in restaurants, in churches and any place where large numbers of Latinos congregate. There is a communal network of communication with regular alerts. There are thoughts of moving to Mexico or other countries of origin even though this is the only country many have ever known. Some are citizens, some have green cards, some peoples’ immigration status is in process and others have no legal status though they have worked here and paid taxes for decades. A friend, here legally, recently shared for times such as this that she, like others, have had plans for years to access hiding places, to escape the watchful eye of immigration authorities by staying in the homes of White persons. There is a deeply felt fear permeating the lives of Latinos who have lived here for generations. They have contributed tremendously to this city, this state and our entire country. And yet, even those here legally are fearful.
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They are afraid, sharing stories of roundups in the fields, in stores, in restaurants, in churches and any place where large numbers of Latinos congregate. There is a communal network of communication with regular alerts. There are thoughts of moving to Mexico or other countries of origin even though this is the only country many have ever known. Some are citizens, some have green cards, some peoples’ immigration status is in process and others have no legal status though they have worked here and paid taxes for decades. A friend, here legally, recently shared for times such as this that she, like others, have had plans for years to access hiding places, to escape the watchful eye of immigration authorities by staying in the homes of White persons. There is a deeply felt fear permeating the lives of Latinos who have lived here for generations. They have contributed tremendously to this city, this state and our entire country. And yet, even those here legally are fearful.
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Unaffiliated Jews
need and want rabbis, too.
In our world today, where many derive a sense of belonging and community through the internet alone, it is not surprising that the fastest growing group of Jews in America are the unaffiliated.
Many unaffiliated love being Jewish and simply choose not to belong to a synagogue. It is to those who no longer belong to synagogues to whom I now turn my time and attention.
Rabbi Debra Nesselson
Many unaffiliated love being Jewish and simply choose not to belong to a synagogue. It is to those who no longer belong to synagogues to whom I now turn my time and attention.
Rabbi Debra Nesselson
"Getting Personal with
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"A rabbi without a pulpit for Jews without a shul."
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Click the picture to read the full story.
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Is religious belief declining or just reshaping itself?
The New York Times, Sunday Review
Click to read Thou Shalt Worship None of the Above, by Peter Manseau.
Click to read Thou Shalt Worship None of the Above, by Peter Manseau.
