Published
January 9, 2014
As part of our #MakeItHappen initiative, we are featuring stories from young leaders who #MakeItHappen in their communities. This story comes to us from Moishe House, an organization that trains, supports and sponsors young Jewish leaders as they create vibrant home-based communities for themselves and their peers.
Aaron Simon is a writer, editor and self-described web nerd. He helps run "Bullet Reviews," an indie multimedia review website, and has written for The Daily Beacon, The Phoenix Literary and Arts Magazine and Danse Macabre.
There are a lot of things to say about Portland, Oregon. Many of which have already been said on the popular tv-show, Portlandia. However, I’ll say this: coming from Nashville, Tennessee, a city that prides itself on being a melting pot of different cultures—ranging from a street lined with Ethiopian restaurants to farm-style establishments—Portland, it's own unique bubble, is incredibly intimidating.
No, it’s not because of the tragically hip nature of its inhabitants. No, it’s not because Portland has one of those small-town atmospheres. No, it’s not because it's not unusual to walk downtown and see a guy dressed in a kilt, wearing a Darth Vader mask while playing the bagpipes. It’s more because it is—at its core—the perfect archetype of a small town.
Take, for example, the Portland Nursery on Stark Street, out near 50th Ave. In the fall, they hold an apple festival. Don’t get me wrong: I like apples. They taste good, they're healthy and they're easy to prepare. Still, it boggles my mind that people can manage to hold an entire festival in their honor.
Up and down Stark St. during "The Fest," you’ll be hard-pressed to find street parking. Sometimes, even, you might find someone parked in a driveway that is not theirs. Utter madness.
Now, around the time that I first looked out at the long lines of parked cars and thought, “Dear Lord, what sort of anti-hell have I moved to?” I was also hitting the depths of a really tough job hunt. The nadir, where I found myself writing a cover letter to make the point that my Master’s in Creative Writing would mean that I would be an excellent garment hanger.
It was not a good time. Finally, after being told that I really should engage with the Jewish community more (because, really, why hadn’t I?), I attended an event at Portland’s Moishe House. It’s a pretty nice house in a pretty nice neighborhood, filled with people who were 1) my fellow Jews and 2) likely to have interests outside apples.
If you’re reading this blog, then chances are you already know and appreciate the connections that we, as Jews, hold. It’s not quite Jung’s idea of the collective unconscious, but the sharing of a common worldview—or at least background—is monumental in developing community.
And, too often, we tend to forget that. I mean, you absolutely need to live and work as part of the global community, but many people have the tendency to take that to an extreme and abandon their past–whether consciously, subconsciously or unintentionally.
In fact, I’m going to make a confession here and say that the last time that I participated in a Havdallah ceremony was probably when I was in NFTY in high school. But, as the calendar year came to an end and New Year’s Eve rapidly approached, Moishe House held a gathering, featuring a resident-led candle lighting, vegetarian appetizers, wine and music provided by a community member (an immensely talented pianist who composes scores for silent films).
More than that, it featured a sense of belonging.
Portland, I’m still convinced, is a city of transplants. I think that, in a general sense, it’s the nature of the West Coast, but if you walk around Portland and meet a 20-something, then chances are they’re not from around here. Chances are they’re some schlub who just moved into town a few months ago to retire a for a few years. Either way, it’s a surprisingly hard town in which to just go out and meet people.
When you’re lucky enough to have a group like Moishe House, where you can go to an event, connect with your roots and not even have to worry about if your level of observance will be a problem, then that’s something special.
Even though we’ve been in a new year for a few months, by the Hebrew calendar, there’s that whole secular one that’s all the rage these days. And I gotta say, when you’re given the space and the opportunity to truly reflect on what makes you you, then that’s something that should be treated like a rare jewel—or at least a reason to celebrate what will turn out to be a great 2014.
Has Aaron inspired you to #MakeItHappen? Visit the #MakeItHappen site to learn more about how you can make a difference in your Jewish community!
The Schusterman Philanthropic Network is proud to empower emerging leaders to explore their values, identity and new ways to strengthen their communities. We believe that as we work together to repair the world, it is important to share our diverse experiences and perspectives along the way. We encourage the expression of personal thoughts and reflections here on the Schusterman blog. Each post reflects solely the opinion of its author and does not necessarily represent the views of the Foundation, its partner organizations or all program participants.