A clear majority are mar-
ried to non-Jews; at least 60
or 70 percent are intermar-
ried, estimates Mr. Eno.
But there is a time in their
lives, according to many
conference participants, of-
ten when they become
parents, that they begin to
want to identify as Jews and
be part of a community of
Jews.
And in this part of the
country, where synagogues
are few and far between, and
other Jewish organizations
are nearly nonexistent,
many begin looking for that
community tentatively.
"My antenna are always
on the alert for other Jews,"
said Ms. Sugarman, who at-
tended with her 2-year-old
son, Noah.
Some people take their
first step at creating a Jew-
ish community by looking
through the phone book for
Jewish names. Their calls
aren't always well-received.
Mr. Eno, who lives in
Cabot, Vt., where there are
"at least 10 other Jews," re-
cently tried calling
neighbors with Jewish last
names in an effort to form a
minyan, or quorum of ten
needed for public prayer.
‘,J - A man whose last name
was Cohen responded to Mr.
Eno by shouting "My wife is
Catholic, we're raising our
children as Catholics, take

(

me off your list and don't
ever call me again!"
Marjorie Solomon, from
Bethlehem, in the White
Mountains of northern New
Hampshire, began the Jew-
ish Family Co-op about two
years ago by looking
through the phone book.
"Winter after winter we
feel totally isolated, with no
spiritual help," said Ms. So-
lomon. "And it's such a
homogeneous society that
it's easy for the children to
assimilate."
When she first began call-
ing, she found that some of
the Jews she reached were
fearful of insulting their non-
Jewish spouses by organiz-
ing Jewishly. Others had
joined a Christian congrega-
tion because they had no
Jewish outlet. And some,
with pre-teens, said that

their kids were already as-
similated and that it was too
late.
But 15 Jewish families,
with 25 kids, agreed to try
the co-op idea. Today some
have fallen away, leaving a
core group of 7 families with
11 kids between them.
They meet in different
homes at least once a month
and have had Chanukah,
Sukkot, Purim and Tu
B'Shevat celebrations. They
have baked challah and ha-
mantashen together, and
started a weekly Hebrew
school for kids in the first
through sixth grades.
The religious aspect of
their communal life is the
weakest, they agree. "We're
still struggling with it," said
Beth Harwood, who helped
start the Co-op and is con-
sidering learning how to lead

a Shabbat service "so that
at least we can offer Friday
night services once a
month."
In Bar Harbor, Maine,
Jonathan and Dale Robin
Lockman helped start
Chavurai Yam, and found
that "once we established a
program for children, people
came out of the woodwork,"
according to Dale.
Larry Friedman, from
Westfield, Mass., is part of a
35-family group which has
been together for 17 years.
"We call ourselves
`Reservadox,' " he said. "It
meets all our needs."
This grass-roots self-
organizing, without benefit
of a rabbi, synagogue or de-
nominational support, is
giving birth to an organic
Jewish culture which grows
along with the community's

needs. At present, it remains
embryonic.
"People don't say
berachot (blessings), or say
the wrong one," Mr. Eno ac-
knowledged. And, he said,
the quasi-religious obser-
vances of some nascent Jew-
ish communities may not be
necessarily helpful.
In Stowe, Vt., people
gather to celebrate a holiday
after it actually occurs and
hold a pot-luck dinner, he
said, where "the Jewish
aspect is incidental.
"It lets Jews off the
hook," he concluded. "It
feels as if you've discharged
some obligation when in
fact, you haven't done any-
thing but consume food. Our
communities could certainly
benefit from more Jewish
education."

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