Many Faiths, One Community

Introduction

In Los Angeles, Jewish life does not unfold in isolation. It unfolds in neighborhoods, schools, civic spaces, and homes where multiple cultures and faith traditions intersect. For Hillside Memorial Park, which proudly serves interfaith families, the question is not whether interfaith values belong within Jewish community, but how they actively strengthen it.

Rabbi Calvin Dox-DaCosta of Temple Israel of Hollywood sees interfaith diversity not as a compromise of Jewish identity, but as a catalyst that deepens it. In his words, interfaith values do not dilute Judaism. They call it forward.

A Living Chain of Tradition

To understand interfaith values in Jewish life, Rabbi Dox-DaCosta begins with Reform Judaism’s orientation toward action and continuity.

“I think that, by way of answering that, I will just articulate that we as Reform Jews are guided by action,” he explains. “So there is, there's obviously belief. There's obviously spiritual, spirituality and connectivity to the divine. All that, that all exists right, through prayer, through ritual, all of that exists for Reform, for modern Reform Jews, a lot of that exists to potentially tap into something more divine and to connect with the universe and God.”

For many Reform Jews, ritual and tradition are not simply inherited habits. They are conscious choices made in relationship to the past and the future. “More times than not, Reform Jews are engaging in ritual practice, holiday, all that stuff, in order to feel connected to their ancestors,” Rabbi Dox-DaCosta says. “It's not just for the idea of survival and to keep it alive, just for the sake of keeping it alive, just because it's tradition. But I think that there is that very acute awareness of like, whoa. This has been happening for a really long time.”

Interfaith relationships, he suggests, sharpen that awareness. They create an “acute awareness of that tradition in a way that I think we take for granted as Jews.” They offer an opportunity for education on both sides: “I think that interfaith brings in this huge new dynamic of educating not only the non Jew, but also the Jew, right, the person who potentially grew up as Jewish and takes it for granted.”

For Rabbi Dox-DaCosta, interfaith values are therefore twofold: “I think it's partly to continue educating non Jews, but also to feel empowered and to own that part of our identity in a way that perhaps we were glossing over.” Far from weakening Jewish identity, interfaith relationships can help “reclaim the vibrancy of our Jewish practice and beliefs.”

Rooted in Text, Called to Action

Interfaith values are not a modern invention. Rabbi Dox-DaCosta sees them embedded in the Jewish textual tradition from the beginning.

“I think there's an awareness throughout the different textual traditions that Jews do not live by themselves,” he says. “It shows up over and over and over again, as far back as the Torah, as far back as the Mishnah and the Talmud and each kind of written, textual evolution of our identity.”

Throughout Jewish history, Jews have lived among others, and Jewish law and ethics reflect that reality. “We see that Jews are constantly interacting with other cultures and other traditions,” Rabbi Dox-DaCosta notes, alongside guidance “to be respectful enough to those people that we are, we're trying to, of course, put boundaries around what is ours… and to also recognize that there are others whom we are living amongst.”

He references the familiar Torah’s call to remember the experience of being strangers, as well as the instruction not to “stand idly by” when a neighbor is harmed. The moral concern is expansive. “It doesn't say, don't stand over a fellow Jews blood. It's don’t stand over your neighbor’s blood,” he emphasizes.

For Reform Jews especially, this prophetic tradition of action remains central. “The prophets were really shouting from the rooftops ‘the belief stuff is lovely, but God really wants action.’ God wants us to treat others well.”

That moral impulse carried forward into modern American Jewish life. “During the Civil Rights Movement here in America, that was at the forefront of what we were called to do. We were called to stand with our brothers and our sisters. We were called to fight on their behalf and fight with them and take their lead.”

Today's interfaith work, Rabbi Dox-DaCosta suggests, stands firmly in that lineage. “Especially Reform, liberal, progressive Jews have always looked out to their community to say, ‘How can we help? We were oppressed. We don't want this to happen to anyone else.’”

Shared Values, Shared Responsibility

In a diverse city like Los Angeles, interfaith collaboration becomes both practical and principled. Rabbi Dox-DaCosta speaks of Temple Israel of Hollywood’s involvement with LA Voice, a network of clergy across traditions working toward justice.

“We are a collective here in Los Angeles, using our leadership responsibilities and our power that we have within our individual communities,” he explains. “We're leveraging that in the larger collective of Los Angeles, making sure that LA feels like a place that is open and welcome to everyone.”

Importantly, this work does not erase differences. “We may not see eye to eye on everything, and that's okay, as long as we're respectful and use our positions of leadership responsibly, such that we're supporting one another.”

He sees this as a broader model for civic unity. “We're not necessarily championing any particular faith causes or religious based causes. We're using our faith and our religious values in order to enact change where we deem it necessary, within the civic framework.”

Part of what makes this possible is shared theological ancestry. “It definitely helps that the bigger religions in this world happen to be Abrahamic at their core,” Rabbi Dox-DaCosta observes. “We're all based on the same principles and the same values. And so there's a natural inclination to lean into that and to say, look, we are all one people.”

That shared foundation makes cooperation feel less like compromise and more like continuity. “We have that as a starting place already,” he says, “so that the conversation is a little bit easier from that point.”

A Door Worth Walking Through

For individuals who may feel uncertain about whether they belong in a synagogue, Rabbi Dox-DaCosta offers both empathy and invitation.

“I think that the choice to enter the building is already a brave one to be honored,” he says. Feeling out of place is natural. “You're entering a community that is established, cohesive, and connected. Those feelings of anxiety and nerves are totally natural.”

Still, he encourages people to step through the door. “I would just encourage people to come to step through the door,” he says. “The rabbis are pretty good about recognizing when there's new people and approaching them and introducing themselves.”

Temple Israel of Hollywood has recently taken concrete steps to embody that welcome. “Just last year, we passed a resolution to allow that to happen,” Rabbi Dox-DaCosta explains, referring to amendments that enable non-Jews to become temple members and even serve on the board of trustees. The decision reflected lived reality. “We've seen so many interfaith families with the non Jewish spouse, the non Jewish partner, being the more active one in our community… Why don't we lean into that?”

His answer is clear: “They are not Jewish by birth, have no interest in converting, and they clearly care about this community and care about the Jewish people. Let's honor that.”

Honoring the Bonds That Hold Us

Interfaith values do not stand at the margins of Jewish life. They are woven into its texts, its prophetic voice, its historical struggles, and its modern commitments. They remind Jewish communities that tradition is not a wall to hide behind, but a foundation from which to act.

In Rabbi Calvin Dox-DaCosta’s vision, interfaith engagement strengthens Jewish identity because it demands clarity, courage, and generosity. It calls Jews to know who they are, to act on what they believe, and to stand with others in pursuit of justice.

When spouses, partners, neighbors, fellow clergy walk alongside the Jewish community, they are not surrendering something sacred. They are living it.

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Order as an Act of Care: How Organizing Helps Support Your Loved Ones

By Macy Graybeal • December 26, 2025

Order as an Act of Care: How Organizing Helps Support Your Loved Ones There are moments in life when clutter becomes more than clutter. It becomes a barrier to clarity, calm, and even healing. For professional organizer Shuly Hirsch, founder of Order and Flow , organization is not simply a service. It is a pathway toward emotional relief. As she shared in our recent conversation, Shuly’s work began by chance but quickly grew into a calling. More than a decade later, she is still inspired by the work because “every project is a new challenge that I love to solve.” Her insights remind us that organizing our lives is not only about tidiness. It is about caring for ourselves and the people we love, especially as we think about the future. When Life Changes, Organization Becomes a Lifeline Most people seek help from a professional organizer when they are facing major transitions. Marriage, divorce, a new baby, downsizing, or the loss of a loved one can disrupt both our emotional and physical lives. Shuly sees this often in her clients. “My clients are overwhelmed people. They do not know where to start, and the mess is too much for them to handle.” The clutter, she explains, is rarely only physical. It is tied to memories, hopes, and unresolved feelings. Through patient guidance, Shuly helps people understand their relationship with their belongings. “Stuff is stuff, but it is not always just stuff. It can have memories, it can be aspirational, it can be regret.” When clients learn this, they begin to make choices based on clarity rather than confusion. The result is relief. People breathe easier. Their home feels lighter. Their life feels more manageable. Estate Organizing Is a Form of Emotional Support For families who have lost a loved one, organization becomes something deeper. Estate clearing, Shuly explains, “is not really organizing. It is giving support to the family.” Grief already asks so much of people. Suddenly sorting through a lifetime of belongings, paperwork, and history can feel overwhelming. Shuly approaches this work with gentleness and structure. She helps families decide what to keep, what to donate, what to share, and what must be handled responsibly, moving at the pace they are ready for. “When somebody passes, the families are left with more than grief,” she said. “They are left with a lot of stuff, and between the emotional turmoil and the pressure of taking care of the estate, it is too much.” Sometimes this work involves uncovering memories that families fear may be lost. She recalled one assignment where “they asked me to find a book written in Yiddish, and it was buried in a place full of things. But I found the book.” She even located a translator so the family could read it. For Shuly, estate organizing is both practical and deeply human. It is a service, but it is also a form of emotional service. The Most Loving Gift You Can Leave Is Order, Not Chaos One of the clearest truths Shuly offered is that planning ahead is an act of love. “The worst thing you can leave behind is a big mess,” she said. This extends beyond physical belongings. It includes wills that are incomplete, accounts no one knows about, instructions that were never written down, and objects that family members feel obligated to keep out of guilt or confusion. Shuly encourages people to take steps now to spare loved ones later. Her advice includes: Downsize before someone else has to do it for you Ask family members what they want rather than assuming Keep important documents easy to find Provide clear burial and end-of-life instructions Work with qualified legal and financial professionals Decide what story you want your belongings to tell Preparing these elements is not morbid. It is responsible and caring. As Shuly said, “We are all going to pass away. People should be open to the concept and decide how they want to leave things for their family.” It is not easy to talk about, but it prevents years of stress and allows families to remember their loved ones without resentment. “It is better to be remembered with love,” she said, “and not with the feeling that it took years to settle the estate because nothing was in order.” Bringing Order to Life So Loved Ones Can Remember With Peace Organizing your life is not about perfection. It is about intention and compassion for those who will walk behind you. It allows your home to be a place of comfort, not chaos. It ensures that your loved ones are not left with burdens they did not choose. It also preserves the story you want your life to tell. As Shuly’s work makes clear, bringing order to your life today offers relief in the present and kindness for the future. Whether you are preparing for a new chapter or thinking about the legacy you hope to leave, organizing your world is one of the most meaningful acts of love you can offer. If you want to begin planning for your future, the best place to start is Hillside’s Advance Care Directive. When you feel ready to begin the conversation, reach out on our site or call us at 800.576.1994 to speak to a caring and compassionate family advisor.

Bar Mitzvah: Second Time Around

By Macy Graybeal • December 26, 2025

Bar Mitzvah: Second Time Around Hillside Memorial Park and Mortuary recently invited Dr. Ronald Andiman to share his reflections on celebrating his second Bar Mitzvah at age 83, a milestone rooted in the tradition that a full life spans seventy years. His story moved us with its honesty, gratitude, and sense of rediscovery. Dr. Andiman revisited this rite of passage with intention and maturity, finding new meaning in an experience first shaped in childhood. We are honored to share his words and hope his journey inspires reflection on the many ways life invites us to grow at every stage. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did. Bar Mitzvah: Second Time Around Recently I celebrated my Bar Mitzvah. For the second time. There is a Jewish tradition that measures a full life as 70 years in duration. Therefore, at the age of 83, I was justified in having a repeat Bar Mitzvah. This time, I wanted to make it mine. A Bar Mitvah is a rite of passage. It marks the transition between childhood and adulthood, and while, in the modern world, a 13-year old can hardly be considered an adult, the ceremony at least marks the passageway toward adulthood. Traditionally, it marks the transition from the time when the consequences of one’s behavior are borne by the parent to the time when the consequences of one’s actions are borne by the maturing 13 year old. If that is the premise for the Bar Mitzvah then the preparation for it should reflect the intellectual and psychological issues involved in passing from one life station and another. But my original Bar Mitzvah neither provided me with the opportunity to reflect on the meanings and responsibilities implicit in maturity nor did it provide an opportunity for me to explore the richness of Jewish thought contained in my Bar Mitzvah Torah and haftarah readings. I also felt that very little of my original Bar Mitzvah was my own. I was an actor in a Bar Mitzvah script that was written by others. My first Bar Mitzvah took place at the large Orthodox Synagogue in Brooklyn where I attended Hebrew School and was a member of the junior congregation. At an appointed time, I was instructed to show up at the back of the basement synagogue where I met Mr. Berkowitz, who was soft spoken and patient, and task-driven. He was white haired and bearded with a Yiddish accent. He sat across from me at the long, white sheet-covered table in the back, where old men studied Talmud. From the back of Chumash (the Five books of Moses) , where the cantillated musical forms were written, Mr. Berkowitz chanted, “Munach, munach, r’vi’i” and motioned to me to repeat after him. This was akin to chanting an ancient, esoteric Jewish version of “do-re-me.” My rendition was probably awful. I was notorious for singing off-key. He chanted again and I tried to emulate him more closely. After a few backs-and-forths, he shrugged, raised his eyebrows questioningly, and continued patiently, chanting “Mahpach, pashtah, zakeph, kattan” and motioned me to repeat the melody after him. And so it went. After I barely passed muster on the cantillation I applied the cantillation diacritical marks to the words of the haftarah. Once a week for perhaps six months we went on like this line by line until I could read the words accurately and chant them in my version of the traditional tune guided by the diacritical marks in the text. Next, I learned how to use a somewhat different cantillation for the maftir (last section of the weekly Torah portion) text which I learned to read in the calligraphic form I would encounter when I chanted this directly from the Torah. The task was entirely performative. As a somewhat curious kid I looked at the English translation of the haftarah text which came from the latter chapters of the Book of Isaiah. I could make no sense of it. Mr. Berkowitz did not consider it his job nor, I guess did I, to explain what I was reading. The only Bar Mitzvah task was to read the text flawlessly. I passed with high marks. I had learned the chant and read the assigned text before the congregation. I was a Bar Mitzvah. I breathed a sigh of relief and did not reflect much about this experience, which was identical to that of my friends. It was only in recent years, when I learned of the depth of contemporary Bar Mitzvah preparation for kids and the program of study for those adults doing their Bar Mitzvah for the first time that I saw the possibility of making the Bar Mitzvah experience more meaningful for me by doing it a second time. I approached Rabbi Michelle Missaghieh about my interest in doing a more authentic Bar Mitzvah at this time in my life and she expressed enthusiastic support. There was a wrinkle, however. A Bat Mitzvah – a first Bat Mitzvah-- had already been scheduled for the date of my own Bar Mitzvah anniversary. Rabbi Missaghieh spoke to the family on my behalf and they graciously consented to share the date with me. I was apprehensive that my sharing the bimah (platform) would shift the focus of the congregation from the young woman’s first and perhaps only Bat Mitzvah. I did not want to dull or distract from the significance of the Bat Mitzvah experience for her and for her family and loved ones. I fully embraced these restrictions and later met with the Bat Mitzvah girl and her mother in order to create some ease with each other and to confirm my intention to restrict my participation and in no way to divert attention from her major life-cycle event. The young woman was effervescent and embraced the plan with a full heart. Her mother was warm and welcoming. I felt relieved and reassured. With the guidance of the rabbis, the bat mitzvah girl helped lead the service as is the custom at TIOH. The Torah was passed from her grandparents to her parents to her. She carried it through the congregation, chanted her Torah portion and gave her drash (Torah discussion). Then I was invited to join her and together we recited blessings for the haftarah. I chanted 8 verses of it and gave my own short teaching about what the haftarah meant to me. My much longer reflection on it and the meaning of this celebration was included in a pamphlet with two pictures on the front—one as a bar mitzvah boy and the other as the 83 year old I am now. Rabbi Missaghieh organized a program of self- and interactive study. I labored over the text, researched the context in which it was written, tried to understand the meaning of what Isaiah was communicating to his audience in ancient times and what their experience might have been. I looked at the poetic style and looked at a few different translations to get a sense of what range of meanings one might apply to the text. Over a period of several weeks in a kind of chevruta (traditional paired learning), Rabbi Missaghieh and I shared our thoughts and provoked new ones. I then wrote an essay that organized my reflections. This was published in a booklet that was distributed to the congregation at the actual Bar Mitzvah ceremony. Since I was asked to read just a few lines from the haftarah, I selected those that were most meaningful to me. I prepared the chanting with the help of an online source, an easily accessible Mr. Berkowitz whenever I needed him. That process was made relatively pain-free by virtue of the fact that I had an original model for how it was done, even though it was a lifetime ago. The process turned out to be more than a do-over, an attempt to “do it right,” or to “do it my way.” I was bringing my adult self back to an experience of transition but this time it was not from childhood to adulthood but from adulthood to another stage of adulthood. I felt a sense of gratitude that I was lucky enough to have lived long enough to perform this act, that I was physically and cognitively able to carry it off, that I had a wonderful community of friends and family to bear witness to this new rite of passage. It was an acknowledgment that each day we open our eyes to a renewed universe, in a body reborn to meet the day with a refreshed sense of possibility. On one level I was carrying out my mission to self-correct the limitations of my original Bar Mitzvah, but on another level I was completing my original Bar Mitzvah. I couldn’t have done this one without having done the original at age 13. That event in 1955 contained the seeds of this one. It was the source of the skills and was the kernel of yearning to learn more, to understand more, to engage more. The 70-year process of fruition was capped with a spiritual experience. When the Rabbi pronounced the priestly blessing with her fingers spread over me in the ancient pattern, with the tallit extended over my head, I felt something come over me. Somehow I experienced myself in the full landscape of my journey and I felt…new.

A Legacy of Love: Why Planning Ahead Matters

By Macy Graybeal • December 26, 2025

A Legacy of Love: Why Planning Ahead Matters Preparing for the future is never easy, yet it is one of the most meaningful acts of care we can offer the people we love. Thinking ahead allows us to shape how we wish to be remembered while protecting our families from the emotional and logistical stress that can accompany loss. “Throughout our lives, we work to protect those we love from the hardships of the world,” Explains Hillside General Manager Rafael Ochoa. “Pre-planning our arrangements is one final act of that same love—shielding them from confusion and stress, so their time can be spent healing, not deciding.” By planning in advance, act with compassion in a way that honors your life, your values, and those closest to you. Creating Space for Meaningful Choices When you plan in advance, you give yourself the time and clarity to make thoughtful decisions. Instead of rushing through arrangements during a moment of grief, you are able to explore each option with intention: the type of service you prefer, where you would like your final resting place to be, the music or readings that reflect your life, or the traditions that matter most to you. During a personal consultation, our experienced Family Service Advisors walk through every detail with sensitivity and care, ensuring your choices align with what feels true to you. This process gives your family reassurance, knowing your wishes were made with calm and purpose. Lifting a Burden from Loved Ones One of the greatest gifts of advance planning is the peace of mind it brings to your family. Losing a loved one is emotionally overwhelming; having to make significant decisions at the same time can compound the weight of grief. By documenting your plans ahead of time, you spare your family from guessing what you would have wanted or navigating difficult conversations under stress. Hillside guides you in recording each detail so your preferences are clearly communicated and legally protected. You also have the opportunity to choose funding options that fit your needs, reducing financial strain and helping ensure everything is arranged responsibly and thoughtfully. Honoring Your Legacy with Personalization Your life story is unique, and your final farewell should reflect that. Planning ahead lets you create a deeply personal tribute shaped by your values, personality, and traditions. Our team helps you customize every element so your arrangements feel meaningful, authentic, and rooted in the life you lived. Whether you prefer a traditional ceremony, a gathering that highlights cultural or religious practices, or a more contemporary celebration of life, your plans become a lasting portrait of who you are and what matters most to you. A Thoughtful Step Toward Peace of Mind Taking the time to plan is an act of love that ripples forward. It eases uncertainty, preserves clarity, and offers comfort and direction during one of life’s most challenging moments. At Hillside Memorial Park and Mortuary, we are honored to be your partner in this process, offering compassionate guidance and comprehensive support at every step. Our team is here to walk with you and help you build a plan that brings peace to your heart and to the people you cherish. When you feel ready to begin the conversation, reach out on our site or call us at 800.576.1994.

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Many Faiths, One Community