Brookwrite

The indefensible foe

by Doug Brook
Deep South Jewish Voice Columnist

What a year we've had.

Three synagogues in Sacramento were burned, but we still prayed.

A gunman opens fire at a JCC near Los Angeles, but our kids still camped.

A gunman shoots people walking home from synagogue on a Friday night outside Chicago, but we still walked to services.

Alabama lost to Louisiana Tech. At home. Again. And there really wasn't any point in praying anymore, but we still watched the games.

We express the same sentiment for our new readers in Mississippi, just substitute with "Ole Miss" and "Vanderbilt."

We have persevered through these tragedies, and many others. Our lives have gone on, we have declared that we will not be deterred or intimidated. And we were right. Until now.

Finally, we have met our match. We have been confronted by a force that literally undermines the very foundation of our children's religious education. We have been confronted by a pestilence that has succeeded where other violent events have failed: We were forced to close a synagogue.

No, this story is not about a synagogue board of directors. At least, not this month. Though it has been before and will be again.

This is an absolutely true story from a Conservative synagogue in Saratoga, California. This story is about how they succumbed to adversity and were forced to close their doors mere days after Yom Kippur for almost forty-eight hours, opening again barely in time for Shabbat services, with just enough time to prepare for Sukkot.

What scourge of modern society, more gruesome than arsonists and gunmen, inflicted this chaos on this suburban Silicon Valley synagogue?

Ground squirrels.

Yes, this is a true story. A notice went out to congregants between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur detailing how the synagogue was caught between a rock and a hard place by this burrowing variety of our typically benign acorn-bearing friends.

A squirrel population of several dozen had recently set up sanctuary in a field on the eastern part of the synagogue's property. Seemingly harmless enough, they left the children in the playground alone and didn't smash their beer bottles in the parking lot.

But ground squirrels are not normal squirrels (apparently also known as "flying squirrels"), and the truth of their nefarious activities eventually came to light.

As the congregation's notice says, ground squirrels "like to dig holes." Apparently, this includes but is not limited to holes under air conditioning units, electrical boxes, neighboring roadways, Hewlett Packard's quarterly profits, parking lots, and even the foundations of synagogue education wings. In fact, they've made even faster work of the church next door, already getting their digs in on several walls.

What happened to these fearless furballs as they attacked the very foundation of Conservative Jewish education in the South Bay Area (Yiddish for "San Jose")?

Many humane possibilities were considered to relocate the squirrels. More radical notions were considered to ensure the squirrels would never return, including giving them all bar mitzvahs and charging them dues. Unfortunately, officials with the Barry Manilow tour would not extend his stay in the Bay Area to perform a special concert.

So due to the sheer volume of the squirrel population, not to mention how many of them there are, the final solution was to call in the exterminators (slogan: "We even get rid of ground squirrels"). But, as the notice plainly explains, "The Problem: The process used to remove the squirrels is also DEADLY TO HUMANS!"

Because of this, the building and the entire property had to be completely evacuated and quarantined for over a day as the exterminators did their deed. There was a rumor that a meeting would be scheduled for that evening for all congregants who had not yet contributed to the annual campaign, but the synagogue would not reply to questions on the subject. However, they were gracious enough to invite me to visit the premises that night to find out.

Something didn't seem right. I felt that to get the whole story someone had to dig deeper. Unfortunately, events transpired before this reporter could contact any representatives from the squirrel community for their perspective. Though I have a sneaking suspicion that they would have just chewed me out.

So, the squirrel population was taken care of. But for those of you out there who are children of the '90s, rest assured that it was handled in the most humane way possible. Of course, people have questioned this. But the Rabbi replies to all concerned congregants by reminding them that the executive who coordinated the effort is a vegetarian.

However, the effects of the squirrel episode have lingered. And I don't mean because of the holes they had already burrowed. For one thing, some congregants believe that the synagogue now stands on holy ground. And, quite frankly, it's hard to dispute the point. Similarly, their executive director's recent resignation was not a result of rodentophobia malignis.

In fact, the most glaring effect this notice had was apparently caused by the following excerpt: "It is VITAL that you do not attempt to enter the building, nor have any activity around the outside. This process can be deadly to humans!"

Based on attendance figures at services and various other congregational activities since Yom Kippur, it seems that this part of the notice was taken out of context as applying to all times, not just the day of the squirrels' demise. Most congregants have never been seen on the synagogue property since.

Doug Brook is a technical writer in Silicon Valley who took a break from teaching at the synagogue in question of his own accord two months before writing this column. They wanted him to stay. Really. At least, before he wrote this column. He hasn't been on the synagogue property since.