Jewish Victims of Katrina Begin High Holy Days in Forced Exile

c. 2005 Religion News Service NEW ORLEANS _ Like many of their ancient forbears, New Orleans Jews began celebrating the High Holy Days in a kind of forced exile, driven from their homes by calamity, this one natural, not political. By some estimates 3,000 to 5,000 Jews, a quarter to nearly half of New Orleans’ […]

c. 2005 Religion News Service

NEW ORLEANS _ Like many of their ancient forbears, New Orleans Jews began celebrating the High Holy Days in a kind of forced exile, driven from their homes by calamity, this one natural, not political.

By some estimates 3,000 to 5,000 Jews, a quarter to nearly half of New Orleans’ Jewish population, found themselves in Houston on Monday (Oct. 3) to begin the celebration of Rosh Hashanah.


The next-largest contingent appeared to be in Baton Rouge, another haven for New Orleanians who fled Hurricane Katrina.

Rosh Hashanah opened a 10-day period of reflection and renewal ending on Oct. 13, the solemn Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur.

As sunset fell Monday, marking the close of the old and the arrival of a new year in the Jewish calendar, most of the metropolitan area’s synagogues appeared to be closed for the traditional ceremony that celebrates the beginning of Rosh Hashanah.

One exception was Northshore Jewish Congregation in Mandeville, where a service was planned for Monday night.

Rabbi Robert Loewy of Metairie’s Congregation Gates of Prayer said it appeared that more congregations in the area would be able to have services as the High Holy Days wore on.

Loewy said a significant fraction of his Jefferson Parish congregation would observe Yom Kippur in their water-damaged temple.

“It’ll be chairs on a bare concrete floor, but we’ll be there,” he said.

Rabbi Andrew Busch, the leader of Touro Synagogue, spent part of Monday inspecting his newly purchased, damaged house Uptown, then was to return to Baton Rouge for the evening service.


Over the next few days, he said, he would emphasize the need for community and solidarity in the face of the crisis.

“We’ve got to worry about ourselves, yes, but we have to take care of others as well,” he said. “The Jewish community is part and parcel of New Orleans at large; we have to be as concerned about the very poor as ourselves.”

In the same way that Katrina shredded lives and personal plans, it also shredded the carefully prepared sermon series many rabbis labored over for weeks.

But some once-secondary elements seem even more relevant, even compelling now. Loewy said he knows he’ll spend time focusing on hope.

“You have to spend your life focusing on your values, what’s truly important to you. Then you focus your life around reaching those goals,” he said.

MO/JL END RNS

(Bruce Nolan writes about religion for The Times-Picayune of New Orleans.)

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