 
 
October 14, 2001
Keeping 
  Tradition Alive
Jewish Community of Southern Utah
Maintains the Faith in St. George
  
  By Joshua Kors 
St. 
  George, UT — To be a Jew in Oakland, N.J., means something different than being 
  a Jew here. Rise Bausch knows. The St. George resident grew up in Oakland, where 
  all through childhood she kept Friday night Sabbath and attended Saturday services. 
  In a state known for its diverse swirl of cultures, Bausch's religious practices 
  were nothing beyond ordinary.
  
  Today, however, Bausch finds herself living outside that diversity, in Color 
  Country, where the Latter-day Saints population hovers around 80 percent and 
  the remaining 20 percent is largely Catholic and other Christian denominations. 
  Here most Utahns — even the rabbis of Salt Lake's synagogues — are unaware a 
  Jewish community exists at all. For many years it didn't: Bausch spent the high 
  holy days alone, a one-man congregation.
  
  "I used to sit on my back deck for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, by myself 
  with my prayer book, doing my praying myself," Bausch said.
Not so anymore. In the years since Bausch's first porch-side service, St. George's Jewish population has seen a slow, steady increase. Thanks to the dedicated leadership of Bausch and Reverend Mary L. Allen, that population now has an organization of its own, the Jewish Community of Southern Utah (JCSU), a collection of local families who meet for services in Allen's Grace Episcopal Church.
Since 
  1996 Grace Episcopal has housed the organization's Passover seder service, which 
  celebrates the Jewish exodus from slavery in Egypt. The church also holds Sabbath 
  services for the JCSU the first Friday of every month. The event draws Jews 
  from cities as far off as Fredonia, Ariz., a two-hour drive. 
  
  For an Episcopal church to devote such resources to a Jewish organization may 
  surprise many Utahns. But Allen believes that fostering other faiths is one 
  of her cardinal duties. She sees her church more as a community center, one 
  designed to nurture diversity.
  
  "If we had an Islamic community in St. George, I'd offer them space too," 
  Allen said. "I truly believe that God has created us in great diversity 
  and that we should be able to worship according to how our soul calls us. That's 
  part of the strength of the Episcopal Church: We open our doors to all kinds 
  of things." In addition to housing the JCSU, the Episcopal Church sponsored 
  the Dalai Lama's visit to Salt Lake City in May.
  
  But sponsoring St. George's only Jewish organization means more to Allen than 
  simply an exercise in diversity. The reverend sees an affinity between the Episcopalian 
  and Jewish faiths. Neither have a living prophet; both encourage the challenging 
  of authority. Allen recalls the Passover story in which the boy who is pitied 
  is the one too afraid to ask.
  
  Like the Jews, Allen said, "we don't have all the answers. We have all 
  the questions."
  
  That sense of unity sprouted into an annual Passover meal and, subsequently, 
  the official founding the JCSU in 1995, when Allen assumed the leadership of 
  Grace Episcopal. Her predecessor, Reverend John Day, had been holding a joint 
  Passover and Maundy Thursday celebration, which marked the Jewish holiday as 
  well as Jesus' last supper. At Allen's urging, Grace Episcopal separated the 
  two ceremonies. The church held the first distinct Passover seder in April 1996. 
  
  
  The celebration, said Bausch, drew Southern Utah's Jewish families "out 
  of the woodwork," and the numbers have been only increasing since. Over 
  120 people participated in this year's Passover meal. A core group of 25 families 
  keep the monthly Sabbath service going.
  
  Having a place to pray and eat traditional foods like lox, tongue and chopped 
  liver has been a blessing for Jews like Debbie Justice, the secretary-treasurer 
  of the JCSU. But Justice notes that even with the home base of Grace Episcopal, 
  the culture outside of its walls can still seem disquietingly unfamiliar.
  
  In a town accustomed to proselytizing, Justice said she feels uncomfortable 
  when pressed about her beliefs. 
  
  "I'm just really taken aback when I'm asked what my religion is," 
  Justice said. "Growing up these were areas you didn't pry into. It was 
  like saying, 'What did you put on your last tax return?' You didn't ask."
  
  "I can feel a little bit awkward and out of the mix sometimes," she 
  said. "So it's nice to get together with my Jewish friends."
  
  Sometimes the cultural conflicts go beyond momentary discomfort. 
  
  After a recent death, Bausch and other members of the JCSU considered approaching 
  the city council when a St. George cemetery refused to bury the body according 
  to Jewish customs. Custom requires that the casket be lowered into the ground 
  while family and friends throw dirt on the coffin and recite a prayer. The cemetery 
  director argued that that would violate the town's burial laws.
  
  "We got very angry. They would not put the casket in the ground and let 
  us perform our tradition. They say they don't put (the coffin) in the ground 
  until everybody leaves. The gravediggers do it," Bausch said. "And 
  I said, 'Well, you should have looked up the Jewish tradition for funerals.' 
  If you run a funeral parlor, you should know the traditions for funerals."
  
  Bausch is quick to point out that many members of the community have been extremely 
  supportive of her group, even those unfamiliar with Jewish customs. At Bausch's 
  request, the bakery manager at Harmon's agreed to prepare challah for the Friday 
  night services. 
  
  "He didn't know exactly what it was," Bausch recalled with a smile. 
  "He said, 'Is that the braided egg bread?' I said, 'Yes. Yes it is.'" 
  
  
  Having a community of people that are familiar with such traditions — that's 
  been the heart of Justice's joy in being part of the group. She said there is 
  warm recognition in the breaking of the challah, the lighting of the candles 
  and reciting of Hebrew prayer.
  
  "There's a familiar feeling," Justice said. "I haven't gotten 
  a clue what they're saying, but I can follow along and it sounds comforting. 
  There's a comfort in what's familiar. It's just good to connect with kin."
  
  Justice and Bausch both credit Rev. Allen and Grace Episcopal with making the 
  JCSU possible, not just for giving the group a home but for lending it full 
  use of the church kitchen. 
  
  Noted Justice: "At Grace, they avail themselves to everyone who cleans 
  up after themselves."