Berkeley Lecturer Found a Sanctuary in San Diego

By Noam Schimmel

BERKELEY, California –It has been hard to find solace since October 7^th.  Shabbat and holidays have been a comfort at times, but inevitably pain, worry, and sadness pierce them and creep in unbidden, along with weariness and exhaustion. We are grieving.

 

We worry about myriad people and places – the welfare and safety of individuals and communities, our immediate friends and family and well beyond.

We face an unprecedented increase in anti-Jewish discrimination and bigotry that is palpable across the country and around the world.

Anti-Jewish racism and hate crimes directed against Jews were rising well before October 7^th  in North America and Europe, but their severity and pervasiveness have increased massively since then.

We see the disturbing physical manifestations of well-reasoned anxiety about safety and well-being; endless security cameras, urgently hired private guards, new walls and barriers erected to protect us but also that carry their own weighty sadness – a physical manifestation of a country that has changed, where our security has grown more tenuous and precarious.

Where we once felt safe and secure, free and at home in our synagogues, schools, streets, communities, cities and our country, we are now often required to be extra vigilant and on alert for rising violence directed against us and a constellation of increasingly prevalent beliefs and behaviors that devalue, dehumanize, and delegitimize our identities, lived experiences, histories, values, and our communities and communal organizations.

For those of us at universities – whether as students, staff, or faculty – we are frequently experiencing particularly extreme forms of hostility, intolerance, exclusion, and hate accompanied by isolation and indifference from university leadership.

Typically – save for a few exceptions – university leaders have done too little, too late to stand in solidarity with us, respect and protect our civil rights and human rights, and proactively ensure that we are included and our dignity and equality honored as part of the diversity of our universities and as part of values of their purported but largely unfulfilled commitments to diversity, equity, and inclusion – both as principles of university community and as programs.

We often find ourselves alone without the support of friends and organizations outside the Jewish community.

Human rights organizations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have failed to vigorously defend the rights of Jewish people to live free of fear, discrimination persecution, and violent attacks whether in the United States, Europe, Israel or elsewhere globally.

Their response to anti-Jewish hate has been weak, poorly resourced, and reflecting a lack of substantive moral and legal commitment to equality for Jewish people.

Often, they express an implicit and sometimes explicit animosity towards Jewish people – our identities, experiences, values, beliefs, concerns and our human rights.

The Red Cross has been largely passive and willfully non-committal in its advocacy for Israeli hostages; often showing callousness and indifference and causing deep hurt and offense in both words and deed to the family members of hostages to whom the Red Cross has shown insensitivity.

The Red Cross’ commitment to impartial implementation of international humanitarian law is increasingly unreliable and calls into question its integrity, legally and morally.

The UN and UN Women and many other women’s rights organizations have shown staggering misogyny and sexism and contempt for Jewish and Israeli women in their prolonged refusal to condemn the depraved rape and sadistic sexual violence of Hamas and Islamic Jihad against Israeli women, with UN Women taking almost two months to do so, and only very reluctantly and partially.

Humanitarian aid organizations doing vitally important life-saving work in Gaza and around the world to advance health and well-being – including Doctors Without Borders, Oxfam, and Save the Children – have shown a disturbing tendency in their public pronouncements to minimize the ways in which Hamas continuously violates human rights, threatens the lives of both Palestinians and Israelis, and undermines the capacity to deliver humanitarian aid to Palestinians.

All too often, they show a lack of empathy and respect for Jews and Israelis, and do not respect principles of equality and universality in their humanitarian aid pronouncements, policies, and practices.

Often individual friends and organizations with whom we partnered and supported in active allyship with shared values and aspirations to a wide range of human rights and social justice commitments reflecting our dedication to equality, freedom, and defense of the rights of vulnerable and persecuted minorities have been unconscionably passive as we face persecution and exclusion as Jews.

Sadly and distressingly, many of them have not reciprocated our solidarity and ethical and emotional concern and support and have been loudly silent and indifferent, and some, tragically and  painfully, antagonistic.

Feelings of loneliness, isolation, and abandonment stemming from these silences and evasions of moral responsibility are deep, disorienting, and disconcerting. They increase our sense of vulnerability and experience of exclusion.

Yet in spite of all of these painful challenges, Jewish community gatherings have created moments of happiness fostering connection and sharing.

They have become essential sources of mutual support and strength beyond their usual qualities – as necessary for the way they make us more resilient and keep us strengthened spiritually and emotionally as for their intrinsic meaning and purpose.

Being together helps give us the strength and mutual support that enables us to grapple with these challenges and can also give us essential respite from them, especially on holidays and on Shabbat.

Now Jewish communities in the US, Canada, in Israel, and globally are all experiencing an extraordinary level of collective suffering simultaneously beyond the daily vicissitudes of life that we all experienced prior to the Hamas massacres of October 7^th.

Recently, as I was traveling and looking for a shul in San Diego for a few weeks I found respite and much more than that at Ohr Shalom near Balboa Park – joy and  inspiration, warmth and hospitality that energized me.

Ohr Shalom reminded me that despite everything we are experiencing as a people sometimes just around the corner from us in another Jewish community – and often unexpectedly – we can find sources for healing and encouragement, generosity of spirit and openness of heart.

Perhaps I was just lucky and Ohr Shalom synagogue was and is exceptional.

Having gone to many shuls, I do recognize that it stands out for its quality of warmth and receptivity to newcomers, sincerity and welcome.

It is unique, and it embraces visitors and members alike with a truly Abrahamic sharing and hosting that both comforted and inspired me.

But as extraordinary as it is,  I think it also holds a promise that there are many more shuls like it waiting for me and us to discover and in which to find delight.

So wherever you find yourself – at home or on the road – I hope you’ll consider visiting a shul you have never been to in the coming months and consider fortifying yourself with meeting new Jewish individuals and community there.

I found solace and renewal in songs and prayers that are ancient and timeless at Ohr Shalom: Shema and Shemonah Esreh, Anim Zmirot and Adon Olam.

Songs and prayers I say every week, that came to life with special vigor and meaning in a new and revitalizing context.

I found comfort and inspiration in the poetry of Yedid Nefesh, Lechu Neranena and Lecha Dodi, beauty in welcoming the angels of Shabbat singing Shalom Aleichem, and a feeling of communal celebration saying Kiddush and Hamotzi.

As a child I first learned that the main hall of a shul is known as the sanctuary. I did not really understand the meaning of that word and thought of it purely in a literal and practical way.

Now – perhaps for the first time in my life – I truly understand its significance, purpose, and meaning, emotionally and spiritually.

I have found and feel my sanctuary in shul and I return to it for comfort, community, protection, inspiration, hope, and strength.

To the congregants of Ohr Shalom in San Diego – with your beautiful synagogue in both physicality and spirit – thank you for your gracious welcome, your open heart, your gentle and humble spirit of hesed and hachnasat orchim, and Shabbat services that were uplifting and that put a spring in my spirit.

My three Shabbatot with you were peaceful and restorative, a much needed balm at this exceedingly difficult and distressing time.

Thank you for being a true sanctuary in San Diego for residents and visitors alike; a place and people of Shabbat rest, restoration,  and renewal.

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Noam Schimmel is a lecturer in International and Area Studies at UC Berkeley.