New in town? Join the clubValley Jews welcoming, if you take the first stepSTEFANIE L. PEARSON
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 After bursting on to the scene, Valley newcomers such as the Nimhausers |
That's how Cindy Nimhauser responded to a friend who told her she was "nuts" for moving her family from Franklin Lakes, N.J., to Northeast Scottsdale a little over a year ago.
Jewish life doesn't end outside of major Eastern metropolitan areas, Nimhauser says she's learned, but she and other newcomers to the Valley advise that the responsibility for connecting with the Jewish community here eventually lies with the residential neophyte.
'Shalom y'all'
"Shalom y'all," proclaims an aged placard at Boman's, a Jewish deli long a fixture in Old Town Scottsdale.
Valley lore has it that Phoenicians are friendly and open, partly as a result of Western cultural flavors and partly because of the lack of Eastern patrician snobbery.
"The truth is that most people in Phoenix were strangers ourselves at one time," says Bobbi Kurn, who's been involved in communal activities for most of the 33 years she's lived here. "We're a lot friendlier than many cities."
"Everyone is from somewhere else," concurs Rabbi David Pinkwasser, spiritual leader of Temple Emanuel of Tempe.
Pinkwasser remembers "a very lonely Pesach" two decades ago when he, wife Ann and son Josh, then a toddler, had a seder by themselves. (Son Aaron arrived a year or two later.)
Those sorts of memories inform the actions of now-established types like himself. "We were all new once," says Kurn.
That commonality stands in sharp contrast to congregations and communities in places like Philadelphia, where families had been involved for 75 years.
Emanuel congregant Ena Brown, who came to Arizona in July of 1995 from Pennsylvania, remembers people in her hometown of Scranton whispering about a single woman attending services for the first time.
" 'Is she a convert?' " she recalls the scandalized minions hissing. "They were all excited because no one had ever seen her before."
In the Valley, Brown notes, seeing an unfamiliar face is as much a part of going to synagogue as hearing the Torah portion.
But while that may make someone trying to connect to the community feel less strange
"You have to make the effort to tell people that you're new, that you want to meet people," she says. "That's your responsibility as a newcomer."
'Nobody said hello'
But at least one newcomer says that she hasn't received much of a warm welcome
Bobbi Eller and her husband, Richard, moved to northeast Phoenix two months ago from Spokane, Wash., when Richard was transferred here. In the weeks since, the couple has attended Friday night services at several Reform and Conservative congregations in Scottsdale and Phoenix and Bobbi Eller has connected with Hadassah leaders and attended events held by other women's groups.
While she says that Rabbi Mark Bisman of Har Zion Congregation was very warm (it turns out he was a childhood friend of the rabbi of her Spokane congregation), she says she was surprised by how decidedly unwelcoming other congregations were to her and her husband.
Congregants at one synagogue, she says, "seemed really unfriendly. Nobody said hello." Eller says that she smiled at people and tried to start conversations to no avail. She says she introduced herself to the rabbi who "didn't seem at all interested in whether or not I wanted to join the congregation."
She also laments what she saw as a cliquish, materialistic atmosphere at one women's event. "They ask where you live and if it's not Scottsdale, you're nobody," Eller explains. "Maybe I was reading it wrong, but that was my first impression."
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In fact, they say, the culture of the Valley in general may have more to do with difficulty in making Jewish connections than anything the Jewish community does.
"You can get lost (in Phoenix) if you choose to. People come out here because they don't want to be a part of things," Nimhauser says. "It's part of living somewhere where every house is walled off."
The Jewish Federation of Greater Phoenix estimates that at least 2,000 Jews relocate to Phoenix each year, according to Phil Lerner, Federation marketing and campaign director.
But, says Lerner, "a lot of them are invisible."
There's no way for the Federation or other Jewish organizations to identify Jewish newcomers unless the newcomers approach them first.
A new program run through a partnership between the Federation, Jewish News and local real estate agents aims to help newcomers take the step of self-identifying (see accompanying story).
Jewish organizations don't have a strong history of connecting with Jews who are already here. Estimates of the Valley's Jewish population range between 60,000 and 80,000, but only 20 percent or so contribute to the Federation or are affiliated with a local synagogue.
Synagogues and Jewish agencies are "crying out" for volunteers to get involved, says Kurn, who is chairing the Federation's newcomer outreach efforts, but "they don't know where people are, unless people approach them first."
Because, unlike many older cities, Phoenix doesn't have Jewish neighborhoods, the Valley's Jewish communal activities are spread far and wide across an area larger than some states, which makes the community less visible
Fay Biletsky, a registered nurse who moved to Gilbert from Brooklyn, N.Y., in August, notes that keeping a kosher home is more difficult here.
She says she drives into Scottsdale occasionally to find kosher items, as well as foods like lox and whitefish she doesn't find readily available in her area.
Biletsky, Brown and Nimhauser all say they made new friends and Jewish contacts by affiliating with a synagogue early on.
Biletsky says she loves Mesa's Temple Beth Sholom, which she describes "as though it's family."
Her husband, Shelly, a respiratory therapist, is involved with the congregation and daughters Lauren, 10, and Jessica, 8, attend Hebrew school there. Son Matthew, 2, attends preschool at the Tri-City Jewish Community Center.
Brown and Nimhauser started "shul shopping" before their families arrived.
Brown wrote for information from several Valley chambers of commerce. Plus, her rabbi in State College, Pa., connected her with Rabbi Ayla Grafstein of Ruach Hamidbar in Paradise Valley.
While she and husband Peter made friends at Ruach, she says she found the 40-minute drive too long and eventually joined Temple Emanuel, which is about five minutes from their home in south Tempe.
Guests at the brit of their now 5-month-old son, Jordan, were mostly members of the Emanuel chavurah, fellowship group, to which they belong.
Network beforehand
"You have to do your homework first to see if the community meets your needs," Nimhauser says. She called Rabbi Rick Sherwin at Beth El Congregation in Central Phoenix while she was in New Jersey.
He helped her connect with a real estate agent and provided her with information on Jewish schools and the character of the community here.
"If there wasn't a day school here, we wouldn't have come," she says.
She and husband Bruce, a financial manager, send sons Zachary, 7, and Ross, 3, to Solomon Schechter day school, which is housed at Beth El.
Pinkwasser says Temple Emanuel receives three to five calls per week from people thinking about relocating to the Valley.
He says they always want help finding a Jewish neighborhood. "I tell them 'don't bother,' " he says.
But he is always careful to steer them toward school systems he considers more accommodating to Jewish needs. For instance, he explains, Tempe and Kyrene schools are particularly good about being sensitive to the fact that not everyone celebrates Christian holidays.
Having kids is a great way to meet people, Nimhauser notes, "because I got involved in the Schechter family. That's how I know other Jewish people."
But not everyone has kids.
"It's not difficult to meet (Jewish) people; there just aren't as many people to meet," says Malka Kahn, a New York native getting ready to move back to the East Coast. Kahn, 24, finishes a master's degree in taxation at Arizona State University next month.
Being of marrying age plays a role in her readiness to move back East. "I'd like to meet somebody eventually," she says.
Small but friendly
But even if Phoenix's Jewish community doesn't approach that of New York in size, Kahn says she's found it very welcoming
She met some of her closest friends through Israeli dancing classes at Temple Beth Israel in Central Phoenix, where she says people were very friendly and invited her out for coffee.
Chabad of Phoenix's Rabbi Zalman Levertov and his wife, Tzipy, have made Kahn feel very much at home and invite her for many Friday night dinners, she says. And, she serves on the planning committee for Beth El Congregation's 20-something, a social group for young singles.
But making the effort is key. She says she right away got involved with Arizona State University Hillel's programs for young adults, Chevra, and read the Jewish News to find out about other ways to meet young Jews.
"You have to get involved in different groups, find things you like that are Jewish," she explains. "It's hard to just bump into Jewish people unless you're involved in Jewish organizations."
There is no central location for the Jewish community, concurs Nimhauser. "You have to really look for it." And, notes Brown, you have to make yourself known. "Everyone is so used to not knowing people, you really have to go up to someone and say 'I'm new and I want to get to know people.' You cannot wait for them to approach you."
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