From Bathurst to Blanco

But being small also has its perks: My son’s Sunday school only costs $440 a year, running most Sundays from September to May.  It is run by Temple Beth El, and teaches students everything from tzedakah to conversational Hebrew. A program like that would easily run in the thousands back in Toronto.

 There is also a well-run Jewish Community Centre with a Hebrew charter school operating out of it. That means free, if you can get in.  A full-scale curriculum with a mixture of Hebrew language instruction, all paid by the taxpayer.  

 But what truly has struck me this tiny community has always packed both a political and social punch. In the early 1900s, the community raised funds for the Zionist cause, and hosted talks by David Ben Gurion and other leaders. There were active branches of Labur and Betar Zionists. When Britain closed off immigration of Jewish people to Palestine in the 1930s, the local congregations were actively lobbying Texas senators to condemn the policies. 

 The community is very entrenched in the politics today. Case in point, San Antonio’s mayor Ron Nirenberg is of Jewish roots, and the former Texas Speaker of the House is Joe Strauss, a Jewish San Antonian. 

 A plaque in downtown San Antonio highlights the tremendous contributions of the Jewish womens’ chapter during the war years, including midwifery. Nowadays, congregations like Temple Beth El feed the hungry and run other drives. On Martin Luther King Jr weekend, Jewish, and Black Baptist communities, get together to run coordinated services, designed to promote awareness and respect of one another.

 In Toronto, I sewed my Jewish roots. In San Antonio, I discovered something even more special: the concepts of Tikkun Olam and love for one’s neighbor.