By Naomi Karp
The headlines about the Southern border are dramatic: “Trump Officials Move to Quickly Expel Migrants Allowed in Temporarily” and “Trump Plans to Use Military Sites Across the Country to Detain Undocumented Immigrants” for example.
But the border that a group of 18 Temple Sinai congregants, clergy and staff visited last month in El Paso, Texas and Ciudad Juarez, Mexico was eerily quiet. We saw no massing troops, cadres of border patrol agents, homeless encampments, or crowded shelters on the Texas side of the border. Yet what we did see was deeply disturbing and tremendously poignant.
Our group was hosted by Abara, a local organization that leads border encounter experiences for community and student groups. We spent much of our time at Abara House, an historic 170-year old adobe building adjacent to the border fence. The house sits at a crossroads of north-south and east-west trails used for millennia by native Americans, and later by waves of European colonists.
For me, the parts our trip that had the greatest impact were our visit to a small family shelter in Juarez, walking across the border bridge, and joining the local reform congregation for a Shabbat service on Friday evening.
With few migrants crossing the border now, the shelters in El Paso are closed. But on the Mexican side, the shelters are full of people still hoping to cross to the U.S. The shelters range from a capacity of 30 to 900. We visited a small family shelter run by a local pastor and his church. Rosa from Abara’s staff led us in an icebreaker game involving throwing beanbags in silly ways while learning each other’s names. I was surprised at how eager residents were to play with strangers, and how much fun we all had.
I spent much of my time with “Marta,” originally from another Mexican province, who lives in the shelter with her 5 children ranging in age from 3 months to late teens. Currently, only her 8-year-old daughter attends school – uniform fees and other costs form barriers for migrant shelter residents. While some of the kids were shy, all made eye contact, smiled, tried to answer our questions, and seemed very comfortable as we ate pizza and gummy worms together. I have thought of them repeatedly since leaving, knowing that in the current climate, the odds are slim to none that they will make it to the US. Yet it’s too dangerous for them to return to their former home due to cartels and gang violence – what will they do? I was in tears when the 8-year-old hugged me as we left.
After visiting Boundary Marker #1, a desolate spot where the states of Texas, New Mexico and Chihuahua meet, we drove to one of the bridges that connects Juarez and El Paso. As we crested the rise on the bridge’s pedestrian walkway, high-rise buildings in downtown El Paso came into view. We entered the hangar-like border patrol checkpoint, and with our U.S. passports, we were able to move through the border fairly quickly, faster than those with foreign passports. I kept thinking about how the crossing is a snap for me, but an impossibility for our new acquaintances, perhaps forever. I also thought about how my mother, at 14, escaped from Hitler’s Germany in 1939 and found safety here in the U.S. 
On our last night in El Paso, we were welcomed by Temple Mount Sinai, one day after the temple was desecrated by spray-painted swastikas and antisemitic messages. The unfortunate vandalism made our visit especially emotional. The congregants we met with explained that German Jews first moved to El Paso in the 1880s and there has been a small but thriving Jewish community in the area ever since. The synagogue sponsors many gatherings with churches and mosques in the area, and has historically escaped the religious tensions and antisemitism that plague other parts of the U.S. The congregants also made it clear to us that the El Paso/Juarez area is one community divided by the Rio Grande and now, the border wall; many people cross over each day, in each direction, for work or school. After a special Oneg with their members, we felt very much at home during the service, and a bit jealous of their country music band, the Kosher Cowpokes.
On our last day, we brainstormed ways we can address the migrant situation in our own community. We vowed to continue strategizing and working together. We welcome other congregants to join the migrant and refugee work of Temple Sinai. Please contact Jenny Cohen if you want to join us.
