I am a Jew who has nothing to do with immigration. My family never talked about which generation brought us here and under what circumstances. If I am being honest, I am someone seeped in ancient texts, stories, and arguments. I prefer not to spend too much of my time or brain power on following modern-day politics and policies.
As a community activist focused on raising awareness and ending gender-based violence and child endangerment and as a rabbinical student who has long been inspired by and involved in interfaith work, I am too exhausted to imagine how I will work with new interfaith partners in 2025. This past year was one where my friends and family’s pain was ignored at best and considered self-inflicted or irrelevant at worst by much of the interfaith world. How can I work with people to do what I wish had been done for the Jewish people in the 1940s, or wish was being done right now to rescue Yazidis and Uyghers from an uncontested current genocide, when many fellow activists only find the energy to protest when they perceive Jews to be the villains?
I am a Jewish educator, with nothing to do with immigration. Just, once in a while, when I led public programs in libraries and bookstores for toddlers and their caregivers, adults would pull me aside and tell me their stories and their fears and ask to be connected to someone who could help them live here, legally. Sometimes, years later, I still get calls from these hopeful, terrified dreamers. I look for resources, connections, but I have nothing to do with immigration. In 2017, a group of underground caregivers connected with me to advise on how to support a mother and 2 year old in sanctuary. I instructed them on an outline based on years of early childhood study and work, and I yearned to bring my public program to their precious visitors, but it would endanger them. I did the little I could, because I have nothing to do with immigration – I’m a Jewish educator.
As the grandchild of a woman terrified of water because her early escape over choppy seas left a brother behind who would never again be seen or spoken of, his loss too huge, I really have nothing to do with immigration.
Which is why, last month, I accompanied my colleague Cantor Olivia Brodsky and several long-time and new NYC colleagues to witness immigration at the San Diego / Tijuana border. The trip was organized by HIAS, the same organization that brought my mother-in-law and her parents here from a Displaced Person’s camp after the Holocaust, though I myself have nothing to do with immigration. On this trip, I learned about the unspeakable horrors people of all ages, including children, must endure to come to a more promised land. I learned about the angels who accompany them in whatever ways possible, teaching them their rights, teaching them what to expect from the world that is not supposed to be this cruel.
I know about angels in Jewish tradition. They are fiery, focused, and not to be messed with in their mission. These angels were like that when they translated information in 12 languages, and handed out bottles, hot cocoa, and stuffed animals through metal fences to those trapped in liminal spaces like our ancestors on the run — Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, Moses, Mordechai, Esther, and more recently Pearl, Abe, Zelda, Joshua. I met the angels who showed humanity to LGBTQ+ asylum-seekers considered outcasts among the caravans fleeing inhumanity. I met the angels in Jewish Family Services (JFS) who spend 24 – 48 hours with hundreds of people dumped at bus stations, making sure they know where they are headed, and confirming they have all their acute needs met and that their next destination is a safe one. I know the Jewish value of supporting the stranger, welcoming guests, and tending to the most vulnerable.
I am a decently educated Jew, who really believed I had nothing to do with immigration. I would not be here if not for the buried stories of immigration and the living stories of the family I married into, making my own son’s existence possible. As 2025 nears and so much is unknown except for the rhetoric around the “other,” immigrants who were me and my family a generation ago call to me. I can no longer be a Jew who has nothing to do with immigration.
Tehilah Eisenstadt is a Clal Associate and Rabbinic Intern, including serving as a coach for The Belonging Project. Tehilah has spent the last 15 years serving as a Director of Education in synagogues, day schools, and JCCs across the denominational spectrum throughout New York City’s five boroughs. In those roles, Tehilah focused on deepening the emotional resonance of educational experiences, creating a leadership pipeline through staff mentorship, and enabling Jews who felt they didn’t belong to connect with Jewish community. In 2023, she launched Wonder and Repair, through which she develops approaches to community-building and care that incorporate best practices in trauma-informed education and ritual. She is currently a candidate for rabbinic ordination at The Academy for Jewish Religion. Tehilah holds Master’s degrees in Midrash and Jewish Education from The Jewish Theological Seminary and a B.A. in English Literature from Binghamton University. She lives in Brooklyn.