Children in traditional Hasidic Jewish attire run joyfully on the playground. Some of their playmates speak Spanish, others are Anglos with bobbing blond hair. Multiple languages float through the August air under the music. A Mexican band sings and strums its guitars as the sequins on the band member’s sombreros glitter in the sun. I sit with hundreds of people at picnic tables, munching food made by our neighbors: tacos, shish kabobs, falafel, pelmeni, borscht, pierogies, Maid-Rites, venison and pie. There is a sacredness to the event, a holiness to this community. This, I think, is what the reign of God might look like.

But this is not heaven. It is…

[This is the beginning of an article I wrote for America. Continue reading here.]

“2007 Taste of Postville.” Photo credit: http://postvilleproject.org/

2 thoughts

  1. Thanks, Julia, for taking the time to write this article. You give it a personalized touch as only an Iowan could!

    You’ve probably caught this already, but the archbishop spells his name “Jackels.”

    On Tue, Jun 12, 2018 at 11:24 AM, Messy Jesus Business wrote:

    > Julia Walsh posted: “Children in traditional Hasidic Jewish attire run > joyfully on the playground. Some of their playmates speak Spanish, others > are Anglos with bobbing blond hair. Multiple languages float through the > August air under the music. A Mexican band sings and strum” >