Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
In the village we are like ants that pause for a moment, rub antennas, and then continue on
their separate ways. The close proximity in which people live and the common spaces that
they share provide the essential ingredients for the building of community. How different
this way of life is from our daily round back in California! Our neighborhood in Petaluma
was zoned “residential” which meant: no café, no grocery store, no nothing. For a quart
of milk or a cup of coffee, we had to jump in our car and drive seven miles. We only saw
neighbors when we waved from passing cars, or if they might be out gardening in front of
their houses while we were taking a walk. We did invite the neighbors to our kids' birthday
parties, and we organized and participated in block parties. But these annual events only
kept us from being complete strangers; they were never really enough to help us become a
community.
San Cosimo, on the other hand, is almost tribal in its inclusiveness. There's something for
everyonewhowantstobeapartofthings.Thevillageisveryfortunatetohaveapriestwho
isbothaspiritualleaderandacommunitybuilder.HesaysMass,providesreligiousinstruc-
tion to the children, hears confession, orates at funerals, and organizes the celebration of
all the religious holidays throughout the year. People participate according to their inclina-
tions and convictions. There are the pious, mostly elderly, who attend Mass daily. There are
those who attend only on Sunday mornings and holidays. (Most of our close friends fit in
this category: despite reservations and doubts about the ultimate truth of Church dogmas,
they find value in the tradition and their children all go through the rituals of baptism, com-
munion, and the other stops along the way.) Lastly, there are those who've made a ritual
out of riding their mountain bikes together every Sunday morning while the others are in
church. And there are others who simply never attend Mass. Yet, even these folks particip-
ate actively in the major holidays, helping to string lights around the town for Christmas,
carrying processional candles up the mountain on the eve of Good Friday, making baked
goods for fund-raisers, and so forth.
There is no hint of guilt-tripping, no apparent competition around who is more pious. I'm
not sure how better to describe it than to call it a very relaxed and inclusive form of Chris-
tianity. There's a deep sincerity at its core in the appreciation of Christ's sacrifice for hu-
manity and in the wish for peace and harmony among all mankind. There's no sign of the
tortured emphasis on guilt, sin and redemption found in some American Churches. And
there is no disdain for the marginally observant that I remember from the Rabbis of my
childhood whowouldshame those “revolving doorJews” whoonlyshowed uponthe High
Holy Days.
Pam was raised in a mid-west Methodist household, and I was raised as an East Coast Jew.
Despite early engagement we both lost affection for and affiliation with organized religion
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