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August 6, 1999/24 Av 5759, Vol. 51, No.44
'Community first'
Congregation enjoys growth through inclusiveness and warmth - in the cool Arizona pines
ANNE BRADY
Managing Editor
William Berkowitz points out how clear the writing is on the new scroll to Stan Garner and temple President Sheila DeWoskin.
Photo by Anne Brady
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At Temple B'rith Shalom in Prescott, congregants call their rabbi simply "Billy."
The Reform congregation embraces members of all denominations of Judaism and all levels of observance, plus several non-Jews. (Leaders say they have adopted a "don't ask, don't tell" policy on that.)
They erected a new building that opened in January 1998, and almost overnight they doubled membership to its present 134 families.
A couple recently donated to the congregation a newer Torah, which they transported to Prescott from Florida in the overhead compartment of an America West passenger plane.
But none of these facts is what is most remarkable about this congregation in a small, mile-high city in the pines. What truly distinguishes Temple B'rith Shalom is the warmth of its people - who have managed to put aside their many differences and come together as a community of mutual support, caring and worship.
"We're a synagogue second and a community first," says Rabbi William Berkowitz. "Religious life is not the defining characteristic."
Oddly enough, the community's spiritual leader is not threatened by this. Rather, he is incredibly grateful to work for a congregation he describes as "the sweetest, finest group of people."
Berkowitz, educated at Hebrew Union College in New York, came to the congregation about four years ago, after working for congregations in Boston and Portland, Maine. His wife, Bonnie, is very sensitive to chemicals and other elements in the environment and needs to live in a bucolic setting with as few modern-day enivornmental hazards as possible. The Berkowitzes have two daughters: Margie, 9; and Dannille, 4.
For this interview, the rabbi is sitting at a table, set up in the back of his synagogue, along with members of his congregation who have come together to share their stories. "The secret here," the rabbi confides, looking around the table, "is that the founding families were sweet, generous and accepting. They created something 20 years ago that felt to them like family.
"The way they've reached out to me and my family - unfortunately, it's very unusual. I'm very blessed here. Plus, I think we're all having fun."
Proving the point, Fran and Stan Garner share the story of how they recently came to donate a Torah to the congregation, in the name of Fran's parents, Robert and Ann Shellow. Temple B'rith Shalom had only a Holocaust Torah, and it was very fragile and in need of restoration.
"My parents live in Florida. Their congregation had merged with another one, and I said to my father, 'Daddy,' - look at me, I still call my father Daddy - 'Daddy, what are our chances of getting one of the Torahs?' This was the week before Memorial Day," says Fran.
While the Garners were in Florida to visit the Shellows, the rabbi at Beth Moshe in Miami Beach, which had merged with Ner Tamid, agreed to donate a Torah in exchange for a contribution but would not allow the Torah to be shipped. He insisted that it be picked up and personally carried to Phoenix.
"It's our last day there, and my father, who is 88, got the rabbi out of a bar mitzvah party and he says, 'I want the Torah now. You promised me, and my daughter is leaving,' " Fran recounts.
Her father, "a small man with lung cancer," eventually arrived home carrying the Torah. Fran says that her mother was concerned that her small, frail husband was carrying such a heavy object, but Robert Shellow was positively beaming with pride.
The Garners brought the Torah home on America West Airlines, protected by airline pillows and blankets in an overhead compartment.
"I can't tell you what a moving experience it was for us," Fran says. "We were so careful with it. We (felt as if) we had the most precious gift."
The Garners first came to Prescott in 1997 as tourists. They attended a community fair and noticed a sign for the temple.
"We fell in love with this city. We felt this was God's gift to use," Fran says. "We have certainly been more involved in this congregation. All of us have a pioneer spirit. We have no family or (old) friends here. We really have to be there for each other."
One of the congregation's founding members, Shirley Brohner, says she placed an ad in the Prescott Courier in 1977 looking for other Jews because "I got tired of going to Phoenix." Five couples answered that ad, and they all got together for a Hanukkah party.
It took a few more years before the handful of Jews living in Prescott could arrange to have a rabbi officiate at High Holiday services, which were first held at First Congregational Church.
"We just wanted the Jewish community to gather. There were so many churches here and no synagogue," Brohner says. "We started with five families that didn't stay. Then we went to 10, then 15, then 20."
One way the congregation grew in its early years was by welcoming interfaith couples, the founding members say. "I think the congregation came to believe (that) as far as interfaith, you don't ask and you don't tell," says longtime member Alfred Falk. "The Prescott congregation is unusual. Everybody is from someplace else. There are no cliques, no preconceived ideas. We are very friendly and welcoming to everybody.
"We never ask if people are Jewish. People have to get use to the ideas that this is not a big deal to us. We uphold Jewish values; it's in our bylaws."
Congregation President Sheila DeWoskin says some non-Jews enjoy worshipping at Temple B'rith Shalom, and even becoming dues-paying members, because of the group's warm, accepting attitude. "We have one or two members who are black, and it hasn't been an issue," she says. "They feel comfortable here, obviously."
Lynda Foldesh recalls that when she first came to Prescott 15 years ago, she was married to a non-Jew, pregnant with her third child and raising her kids in an interfaith family that celebrated both Jewish and Christian holidays.
A member of Temple B'rith Shalom encouraged her to enroll her children in the temple's Sunday School program. She did so, and gradually "got involved with the other mothers" and made friends in the congregation. Then her oldest daughter was coming of age and wanted to become bat mitzvah. Soon her husband decided to convert and began attending classes. Now the whole family is Jewish.
B'rith Shalom "has been an extended family," Foldesh says. "Everyone is very friendly. My son was bar mitzvah last June (the first bar mitzvah in the new synagogue), and my father died in August. I stayed away for awhile, and congregants called and said, 'Come back. We miss you.'
"I think we're going to start coming more again. My husband is the one who'll (now) say, 'We really should go to services.' "
Skip and Suzanne Allender are former Chicago residents who moved to Prescott in 1996. But they joined B'rith Shalom in 1995. They were in Arizona to visit their daughter living in Mesa. On a free day, they drove to Prescott, and they liked it so well that they came back three months later for a full week. They loved the area, and the fact that there was a friendly Jewish congregation in town sealed the deal.
"We started to make friends right away," says Suzanne. "We came from a congregation of 600 families that was very intellectual, with incredible traditions, musically and otherwise, (but) it was really hard to make friends."
Mimi Etlin recalls that when she and her husband moved to Prescott in 1985, "the first thing we did ... was to see if there was a Jewish congregation. The Chamber of Commerce said, 'Call Shirley Brohner.' "
They did, and they became involved with the then-small group that was meeting Friday nights at the Congregational church. She has been a member every since.
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There is a warmth and connectedness to this congregation that I haven't found any place else," she says. "We always have a wonderful summer picnic. People of all ages really have a full day together."
Group seders, she says, are "not austere. We cover the ritual, but we do it in a very inclusive way."
So why aren't the more traditional, observant members demanding increased religious programming and debating the merit of all this inclusiveness?
"It never was an issue because it's not like there's a choice," explains DeWoskin. "It's kind of like, 'You're coming to our house for dinner. Here's what we're having. Do you want to eat?' "
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