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THE MID CITY
ADVOCATE T H E A D V O C AT E.C O M
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W e d n e s d ay, O c t O b e r 30, 2024
STRONGER UNITED Two synagogues come together to form one congregation
BY JAN RISHER Staff writer
For the Unified Jewish Congregation of Baton Rouge, the last year has been monumental. The congregation was established in January 2022 with the unification of two long-time Baton Rouge congregations — Beth Shalom Synagogue and Congregation B’nai Israel. After years of work, in March 2024, the unified congregation moved into its new sacred home, located at the previous site of B’nai Israel but in a new synagogue created by combining architectural and symbolic elements of both congregations with new features that focus on looking forward. “We have a Czech Torah that was rescued from the Holocaust on display and the old eternal lights — and then you’ll walk into the new sanctuary space, and they were very much wanting a modern look,” said Rabbi Sarah Smiley, who started her work to lead the unified congregation July 1, 2022. The new synagogue includes multiple references to the two previous congregations, including two sculptures of Moses and stained glass windows from both synagogues.
Getting the right timing Donna Sternberg has been a member of the Baton Rouge Jewish congregation for 57 years. She was a member of the design committee of the merged congregation and says she too believes that the congregation is stronger united. “It’s also exciting to see the community thriving on our new campus,” she added. On Oct. 2, more than 300 people came together for the unified congregation’s first Rosh Hashanah service in its new sacred space. That first High Holiday, which welcomed the year 5785, has been followed by Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Simchat Torah. In the weeks before the High Holidays started, Smiley, who moved to Louisiana to accept the rabbi position, indicated that she seems to have figured out much about the ways things work in the Bayou State. “So the Friday night of Yom Kippur might be our biggest service. Typically Saturday is, but I will say it’s the LSU/Ole Miss game and the marking of 100 years in Death Valley,” she said. At that point, Smiley was concerned that the game might be set for the morning, which could have a bigger impact on attendance for the holiest day of the year for Jews. “They haven’t announced the game time yet, but I’m hoping, for my sake and the sake of the Jewish community of Baton Rouge, I’m hoping it is an evening game, but we’ll see,” she said. “I think they’re going to put it in prime time, but you know maybe my connection to the thing above me will help.” Things worked out all the way around for the Yom Kippur services (and the LSU/Ole Miss game too).
The new congregation is working The congregation is working toward its mission of being “an inclusive Reform congregation seeking to inspire a passionate commitment to Jewish life, learning, community and spiritual growth.” “The coming together of the two synagogues has been tremendous for the Jews of Baton Rouge,” said member Seth Kaplan. “We are so thankful for the history of the Jews of Baton Rouge and we are excited to be part of the future.” Steve Cavalier, president of the congregation’s board of directors, said one of the benefits of merging the two congregations has been additional resources for worship, music, social, educational activities and more. Plus, there are are more children and youth involved in their religious school. “It’s obviously wonderful to be to-
STAFF PHOTOS BY JAVIER GALLEGOS
Symbolic elements of both congregations were incorporated in the new Unified Jewish Congregation of Baton Rouge synagogue. The custom carved doors are from Beth Shalom Synagogue and the stained glass from Congregation B’nai Israel.
“The coming together of the two synagogues has been tremendous for the Jews of Baton Rouge. We are so thankful for the history of the Jews of Baton Rouge and we are excited to be part of the future.” SETH KAPLAN, congregation member gether in one community,” he said. “Even though people did know each other across congregational lines before, now that we’re one congregation, we’re able to get to know each other better.” Cavalier says that, after two years of careful planning, the dedication ceremony for the new building was meaningful, but it was the Rosh Hashanah service that gave him pause and provided a chance to reflect on how well the new congregation is working. “I was just blown away with the crowd we had. It was the largest crowd we’ve had in a number of years,” he said. “It was such a beautiful service. We were so lucky in finding Rabbi Smiley. I looked around and thought, ‘We did the right things.’ ” Cavalier said there were all kinds of predictions when the congregations merged. “Experts said we would lose 20% of our membership. That hasn’t happened. We have a larger membership now than when we first merged. We have new members who weren’t affiliated with either congregation in the past,” he said.
To everything, there is a season Cavalier says that despite some differences in philosophy of worship before the merger, the congregation has come together beautifully. “It’s been so gratifying to see that happen — and we love our building,” he said. “It was one of the legacy congregations, but we totally renovated it. It is essentially a new building.” Cavalier attributes the positive impact of merging the congregations to thoughtfulness and careful planning. “People really realized that the Jew-
Rabbi Sarah Smiley stands for a picture in front of the stained glasspaneled windows that were previously at Congregation B’nai Israel at UJCBR recently in Baton Rouge. ish community is small and we would be stronger united,” he said. “We spent a lot of time in the process and looked in depth at everything that could be a problem — what kind of rabbi we wanted, what kind of music we wanted, what kind of facility we wanted.” At the Rosh Hashanah service, which as Cavalier noted was open to one and all, those in attendance prayed a series of prayers, including this one: To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. This is the season of the soul — a time to rejoice, a time to reflect, a time to return... a time to gather round the table with loved ones and friends, a time for song and silence, for prayer and confession to open the heart, a time to retreat to our sanctuaries within, a time to renew the life and spirit of our community... This is the season of attentiveness — a time to notice what has unfolded and what has not, a time to regret, a time to forgive, a time to remember cherished dreams and high ideals erased by reality... This is a season of hope — like mist rising at sunset, like dew descending at dawn, our hopes beautify and nourish everything they touch. Our hopes make up partners in create, pursuers of peace, people who aspire to a world of justice... This is the season of awe — when
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Jan Risher LONG STORY SHORT
The last time we went to Frogtown Four years ago, two falls before my father died, on All Saints Day, we went to his family cemetery, called Faulkner Cemetery, in the deep, piney woods of Mississippi in a place called Frogtown. For the record, I’ve never seen a frog there, and it is far from a town, in every sense. Frogtown is the kind of place that I grew up calling a “community,” an area that usually encompasses two to three, maybe four, square miles, and the people in that area do the thing that people in communities do — they are there for each other. They may borrow sugar or milk. They babysit each other’s children. Sometimes, they pick up things for the other when they go “to town.” They help when there’s a leak or a cow gets loose — things that may seem foreign to those who have never lived in the country, but it is the way of those places. My father never lived in Frogtown, but his dad grew up there before he left to fight in the Pacific in World War II. My grandfather and his parents and their parents are buried there, along with dozens of aunts, uncles and cousins — most of whom I’ve never been exactly clear on how we were related, but I’ve heard their names all my life. One of whom was a woman my dad referred to as “Aunt Bama.” Her name was Bama Chestnut, and the story goes that she rode a water buffalo across the Tombigbee River on her way from Alabama to Mississippi. My dad remembered his Aunt Bama fondly from when he was a child. As one might expect from a woman who once rode a water buffalo across a major river to move from one state to another, she was, by all accounts, a character. On our last trip to Frogtown, my dad did as he always did about the places he loved. He turned into a tour guide, telling me what stories he had heard or could remember of the people represented by aged headstones. Meanwhile, I took pictures, trying to connect the names and the memories. Though my father talked a lot about his family and roots, until that day I had never considered ancestors in the way I know those in many other cultures do — which most of us have learned about in large part thanks to Disney movies like “Mulan” and “Coco.” In “Mulan,” she sings, “Ancestors, hear my plea, help me not to make a fool of me — and to not uproot my family tree.” I’ve also heard that “the veil is thinner” in these last days of October and first ones of November. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I know on that day three years ago, it sure felt thinner. As I walked through the cemetery, I wore a small red leather purse. It’s a crossbody bag that I typically barely even notice. However, on that day, I was leaning here and there and sometimes crawling on the ground, trying to get the best photos of my dad and the headstones of our ancestors. As I was listening to my dad and trying to take photographs, my purse kept dangling and getting in the way. When I realized that it was a distraction, I was standing right beside my greatgreat grandmother’s headstone. I knew a little about her beyond
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