Kobblestones & Kabbalah
By Pat Hirschl, Dec 22, 2006

Shalom San Miguel Shabbaton
Friday, January 5–Sunday, January 7
Hotel Quinta Loreto
US$60/$70

Shalom San Miguel brings a Shabbaton weekend to San Miguel, a potpourri of study, food and schmoozing on Friday, January 5, through Sunday, January 7. Kabbalah, a Jewish mystical tradition that got international publicity when pop star Madonna announced she was a devotee, is one topic to be explored by Rabbi Yisroel Miller, leader of the Shabbaton.

In a phone interview from his office in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Rabbi Miller said the point of his talk, “The Mystics of San Miguel: An Introduction to Kabbalah,” is that kabbalistic teachings resonate with everyone—scholars and Madonna included. “The mystics of San Miguel” are those listening with open ears and minds. “Our tradition has room for everyone,” he said, “every person who wants to connect can find a place.”

As for the kobblestones—well, he is speaking in San Miguel after all. But there is more to the choice of words than a cutesy alliteration. The connection comes from one of Miller’s written teachings. In Chesed in Our Daily Lives, Miller recommends “creative kindness.” He defines chesed (loving kindness) as doing what the other person desires. “The science of chesed is … not to force a second helping on your guest when his heart’s desire is to leave in time to catch his train. The art of chesed is learning how to follow through with style, doing kindness with warmth and discretion, and without causing embarrassment to the recipient.” 

Miller gives homely examples. They include “permitting the lady behind you in the supermarket line to go first, when she has three items and you have 30, allowing others to finish their sentences without interruption,” and one particularly apt for the cobblestones of San Miguel: “Not speeding up your walk to pass an elderly person who will thereby be reminded of his infirmity.” 

When this last example was pointed out to Miller, he laughed that the practice is a very old one from Eastern Europe to show respect for the aged and infirm.

As one of the aged regularly navigating the cobblestones in San Miguel, I have often had a sprightly young Mexican pass me as I hobbled along. He had either waited patiently for a wider place in the sidewalk or gone well out into the street to avoid seeming to rush me. That sensitivity may have been taught in Eastern Europe, but it is typical of our local Mexican culture.

Miller accepted the invitation of his friends Larry and Carole Stone to come to San Miguel, partly because of his warm feelings for Mexico. Twenty-two years ago, he came close to accepting a post in Mexico City. The ambiance of Mexico, its culture of politeness and slower pace were very attractive to him, but he decided to stay in Pittsburgh, where he still leads Congregation Poale Zedeck.

Growing up in Boston in a rabbinic household, Miller remembers knowing only one thing for sure when he was 12 years old: he would never, ever want to be a rabbi. As a teen, however, he got hooked on learning. “I couldn’t get enough of the rich heritage of Judaism,” he said, “and I found myself wanting to share everything I learned with anyone who would listen.”

“Many are turned off by these same Jewish teachings,” Miller laments, “because they are taught a “one-size-fits-all” approach that is narrow and confining. The truth as Miller sees it is that every person is unique, and every person has a unique and individual connection to the Torah.

Miller has written a number of books, including What’s Wrong with Being Happy? and What’s Wrong with Being Human? A reviewer describes his latest book as “crammed with anecdotes and humor…. Rabbi Miller has an uncanny ability to cut to the heart of a problem … with liberal dashes of Torah knowledge, insight, perspective, wit, eloquence, and common sense.”

The gentle wit that came through over the long-distance line permeates his writing. In Courage for Cowards, Miller reports his four-year-old daughter’s embarrassment at being frightened by a quarter-inch spider she encountered marching to her room singing a Hanukah song, “I want to be brave and bold.” He writes that he could hardly fault his daughter for cowardice when she had inherited that quality from her father. When asked if this meant he, too, was afraid of spiders, I could almost see his eyes twinkling as he replied, “Let’s just say spiders and I have never gotten along well.” 

Still writing about courage, he repeats a fable about 51 dragons, in which a knight learns a magic word to repel dragons from a righteous man, uses it successfully for 50, but forgets the word and the 51st dragon has him for supper. Miller tweaks this traditional ending by having the righteous man appear to the knight and say, “Schlemiel! Jews don’t believe in dragons; they don’t exist!” 

The knight then banishes the dragon with laughter. The moral, according to Miller: “If we can perceive that the dragons are not real, we … can learn to laugh at circumstance, knowing that behind the cluttered facade there is only God ... cheering us on with His smile and His applause.”

Recipient of the Pittsburgh United Jewish Federation’s 1999 Rabbinic Leadership Award, Miller has also been in the community spotlight as speaker at the inauguration both of Pittsburgh’s mayor and of the governor of Pennsylvania. When asked whether this meant he was politically active, he said that, to the contrary, it meant he was a reliably neutral figure. “I do not think politics belongs in the pulpit,” he said. When asked whether he would be willing to pass on his opinions to the sitting American president, he shot back, “Certainly, if I could give the same advice to those on the other side of the political divide. I am serious about avoiding partisanship.”



Miller will be the featured guest at a series of events January 5–7 at the Hotel Quinta Loreto. The schedule for the weekend follows.



Friday, January 5

5pm Kabbalat Shabbat & candle lighting 

6pm Shabbat dinner in the Quinta Loreto dining room

7pm “Getting Beyond the Orthodox-Conservative-Reform Divide”

Saturday, January 6

11:15am Torah reading discussion, led by Rabbi Miller

Kiddush & brunch

5pm “The Mystics of San Miguel: An Introduction to Kabbalah,”

Havdallah, dessert & coffee

Sunday, January 7

11am “Soul-Centered: Finding and Healing One’s Individual Holy Spark”


All events [except Shabbat dinner] will be held in the TV Salon of the Hotel Quinta Loreto. Admission to all functions is US$60 (600 pesos) for members of the Shalom San Miguel and US$70 (700 pesos) to the general public. Information and reservations are available from Doris Tolpen (154-5438) or Dorit Arazi (doritarazi@hotmail.com ).

The pilgrim’s tale: becoming part of history
By Barbara Erickson

San Miguel Walk 2007 One-day walk: January 24, US$99, Three-day walk: January 24–26, US$1200 Nine-day walk: Call Barbara Erickson, www.sanmiguelwalk.com  Sign up at La Conexión or Border Crossings

The history of our pilgrimage story begins in 1542 when Fray Miguel de Bologna brought a little cornpaste image of the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception to the town in the state of Jalisco now known as San Juan de los Lagos. The “Virgencita de San Juan,” as she is lovingly referred to, spent most of the next century in relative obscurity. Then, in 1623, in answer to the prayers of local indigenous parents, the Virgin was credited with the miracle of restoring the life of their daughter. During the following century, she became known as the Virgen de San Juan de los Lagos, and her fame and veneration grew as reports of her miraculous blessings circulated among all classes of the faithful in Mexico. In 1769, the little Virgin with the long brown hair, white gown, blue robe and golden crown was installed in the present church, and the festivals that gave rise to the pilgrimage of San Juan de los Lagos began. For the last 237 years, pilgrims have walked for miles from their villages to ask the Virgin for help. 
Now, the pilgrims number more than 10,000, and Eva Ramírez Silva is one of them.

Eva remembers from her childhood the excitement at the end of every January as the peregrinos (pilgrims) in her community prepared to walk nine days to visit San Juan de los Lagos. In 2003, as she watched the boisterous departure, she decided to join them the following January. I asked Eva why pilgrims walked for nine long days when they could take the bus to visit the church. She told me with a shrug, “Many reasons.” “For example?” She answered, “Maybe for a mandato (a broad intention such as world peace) or a pedido (a small request such as to keep one’s son safe) or to give thanks for a pedido answered or just for fe (faith).” When I asked her why she first decided to walk, she responded that she was “just curious” and her sister Olga added that she “loves adventures,” leaving Eva blushing. 

Eva lives in Los Ricos de Abajos, a tiny community past the monastery beyond Atotonilco, and works for her family. Since her father died in 2000, her mother runs the family business, making tabique (bricks) for sale to contractors. Most of her 13 siblings, as well as her in-laws, nieces and nephews, are involved the family business. Eva’s principal job is the precise trimming of the bricks after they have been released from the molds and left to dry in the sun before they are fired in the chimney. She has two days per week off, Sunday and Monday, when she goes to church and enjoys life. In 2003, Eva used a lot of her Mondays getting all the things she needed for her pilgrimage. 

Eva was ready for an adventure when she joined the peregrinos from the Santuario de Atotonilco de Jesús Nazareno in January 2004. She had saved about 1,500 pesos for extra food, showers or emergencies and had good walking shoes, a new pack, a small tent and a good warm blanket and a pink parka.

Days in January are short, and mornings and evenings are cold. All of this was loaded on the huge truck rented to carry everyone’s gear. After the blessing by Padre Roberto, lots of milling about and music provided by the Banda Gonzalez, they were on their way. Led by Apache dancers, the billowing standards with images of San Juan and the local image of the Virgin herself on the shoulders of two stalwart pilgrims, the crowd inched out of town. 

The pace is personal, but never a race. The human column begins to spread out as the faster walkers take the lead, soon stretching over a kilometer long. The sounds of feet pressing onto the earth, people laughing and singing, the band a long way back, the wind flapping the standards, and the occasional rockets punctuating the cacophony lift a happy, raucous prayer to the Virgin to ensure the success of the journey.

Eva was profoundly changed by her first pilgrimage. She worked hard in the camps and assisted anyone who needed help. When she first entered the basilica and saw the image of the Virgin, she told me she began to cry tears of happiness. She felt strong and blessed, and she knew she would do it all again. Now she says, she walks for faith. 

The organizers in Atotonilco noticed Eva’s hard work and invited her to become one of the celadores for the pilgrimage. Celador translates as “attendant,” or “warden”; in the parishes, it refers to a person who takes responsibility for organizing any religious event. Eva is the youngest celador in her community; she is 23 and one of only three women. The oldest, Don Aldofo, Eva estimates to be around 70. He continues to make the journey every year, but he no longer walks. Approximately 15 celadores organize the annual pilgrimage for the larger community attached to the Santuario of Jesús Nazareno. The celadores meet once a month to organize every detail necessary to move their small army of 300 or more pilgrims. The principal method of raising funds is limosna (alms) given at each of the nearly 300 homes where the image of the Virgin visits during the year. The visits raise approximately 4,500 pesos. A tesorero (treasurer) guards the funds and dispenses them when it is time to pay the bills. 

I asked for an opportunity to visit the Virgencita and Eva arranged for me to meet Pedro Covarrubias, another young celador from Atotonilco. Pedro took me to Luisa Zapatero’s home, where I was able pay a visit and offer limosna. Even though the image would stay in her home only one day, the nicho containing the little virgin was surrounded by flowers, candles and balloons. All of the Zapatero family and friends gather for a visit during the evening, and in this way the honor and blessing of the Virgin are spread throughout the community. Pedro will then be responsible for moving her to the next home and the ritual will be repeated. I asked Luisa if she would make the pilgrimage. “No, it is too far for me,” she said and laughed when I told her I would only walk three days. 

In addition to organizing the image of the Virgin’s brief visitations in homes, the celadores organize volunteers to provide and prepare food in camp, drivers with trucks to carry the gear, camp set-up and clean-up crews, general helpers and sponsors for first-time walkers. Some of the regular volunteers are the 16-member Banda Gonzalez, the Apache dancers and Padre Roberto, who all come along to support and energize the pilgrims. Most of the funds raised go to providing gasoline for the volunteer vehicles, fuel for camp stoves, rent for the camping spaces, the large truck for gear and emergency funds. Everything else is donated in kind. Last year, Eva sponsored three first-time pilgrims, and she will sponsor at least that many in 2007. 

She remembers with special reverence and happiness the eighth night of her first pilgrimage when, during the mass in Las Aguas del Obispo, she received the crown of flowers and the special blessings for first-time pilgrims. Eva told me she looks forward to this incredible night the most each year. Everyone is giddy with excitement—in the morning they will reach their destination! No one can sleep, fireworks illuminate the night, and people who have been walking night and day now dance and sing despite exhaustion.

The pilgrimage for Eva ends after nine long days and many miles as she enters the basilica in San Juan de los Lagos along with hundreds of others. Her visit lasts no more than 10 minutes. The Banda Gonzalez plays in front of the Virgin, representing the entire group, and everyone disperses for home. Sitting in the bus on the way back home, Eva told me she feels complete but tired, and ready to get on with her regular life. After three years of pilgrimage, she still feels the intense emotions of her first journey, but now they are deeper and more profound. Eva is proud of the long history and tradition of the pilgrimage and was happy to share her experiences with me. She invited me to join her group and I promised to go in 2008 when the duties of San Miguel Walk are behind me.

About the same time in 2003 that Eva was preparing for her first pilgrimage, Ilva Invernizzi was returning to San Miguel after walking the Camino de Compostela trail, full of excitement to join fundraising for CASA with the pilgrimage to San Juan de Los Lagos. Ilva knew firsthand the emotional impact of pilgrimage and wanted to extend that incredible feeling to her friends, at the same time contributing much-needed dollars to fund the anti–domestic-violence program at CASA. Ilva called all her friends and their friends, and the first San Miguel Walk was born. There was a lot of preparation for this pilgrimage, too, so Ilva called on her friend Paco Vázquez to put it all together while she raised donations. 

In that first San Miguel Walk, pilgrims experienced many of the same emotions as Eva. Even though they only walked three days out of the nine, Barbara Porter, one of the original group, reported that it “was an emotional experience none of us will ever forget.” 

The tradition has continued as the San Miguel Walkers take to their feet to raise money to fund the anti–domestic-violence program at CASA. Last year, the walk raised in excess of US$25,000, and we hope to do it again. This year for the first time, a one-day walk will be added to the regular three-day walk program so many more potential pilgrims can satisfy their curiosity, complete a personal intention or just enjoy the incredible, uplifting experience of camaraderie with our local neighbors and friends. 


I invite you to join history and put the San Miguel Walk with the Pilgrimage of San Juan de los Lagos on your calendar! Join in this most spiritual, emotional and historic cultural experience. All San Miguel Walk pilgrims carry as their “mandato” the intention of ending domestic violence: a cause with valor.

To sign up or become a sponsor, see the website at www.sanmiguelwalk.com. To become involved, call Barbara at 152-0129 or Mary at 155-9432 or email barbara_erickson@hotmail.com. If you are interested in the nine-day walk, call Barbara and she will put you in touch with Eva.

Remembering Sareda Milosz

One time, years ago but already aware she would die before me, Sareda and I were fighting about what I was allowed to say of her after her death. She particularly forbade any mention of her being “useful” to International PEN in any way, a moral lapse she considered me capable of committing. “OK,” I said, “what would be good to say of you?” 

This was her answer: “I consider myself a gifted communicator, an aspiring actress, a totally evolved dog lover, a willing public servant, a veritable fount of information. A private person content with just enough. Love, Sareda.”

Lucina Kathmann



Sareda Milosz was one of a kind. She was the prototypical risk-taker and pioneer who allowed almost nothing to intimidate her. Sareda shared her love of theater by going on stage and performing in numerous San Miguel productions. She helped us appreciate good literature by founding and publishing a newspaper (El Independiente) that became a key medium for good writers and poets. How many times do I remember seeing her single-handedly carrying armfuls of the publication into various outlets around this town! It was never about money. It was always about giving back something to the community she loved so much.

Sareda did not mince words; she told you exactly what was on her insightful mind. If she thought that your ego was getting in the way of your vision, it didn’t take long for her to cut you down to size with some carefully chosen words accompanied by an icy stare. But when you did it right, she was the first one to come through with warm words of praise. In a sense, she was always the teacher—grappling to make us conscious of our own moral responsibility to this special community. 

I think she was also clairvoyant. Several years ago, at the memorial service for the late Robert Somerlott (whom she admired and loved), Sareda sardonically told the audience that our town was becoming “San Miguel de Dinero.” I didn’t quite get it then. I do now.

David Bossman

I am a friend of Sareda’s who stayed with her at her house off and on for the past couple of years. The thing that seemed almost the most important thing to her in her last two years was going out with her dogs—four most of the time—on very early morning walks. She would bundle up, yell up the dogs, and they would all scatter out the gate by about 5:15 in the morning. I would hear the barking and uproar for a few blocks as they went out of the San Felipe Neri area and then would go back to my warm sleep in the back bedroom until I heard them all come in, raucous, joyful and playful. Sareda was happiest in those early mornings. When she stopped being comfortable walking around, she had to stop going on those walks. And things stopped being so happy for her then. 

Also, Robert, in the final months that Sareda was in San Miguel, was a constant visitor, and he and she would talk for hours, inconsequential and gossipy, still he was a very good companion. 

I am sorry that Sareda finally died. There was something that seemed to defy what the common wisdom is about cancer, pain and dying. I will miss her a great deal. 

Meredith Lavene, Placitas, New Mexico

In remembering Sareda, I would like to celebrate the role of her brother, Richard Ludwig, and all the loving caregivers of those in their final phases of life. A few months before she died, when it looked like Sareda was not going to make it much longer, Richard stopped everything and came to San Miguel to take charge of cooking and managing her household, especially the 24-hour emotional and spiritual support she so badly needed. While respecting Sareda’s wishes, Richard found ways to gently—and sometimes forcefully—to guide Sareda to decisions that were in her best interest. He was always willing and always tried to be helpful. 

After several weeks here, when Richard had to return to Nevada, those of us remaining held our breaths and watched as Sareda tried to continue the level of care Richard had established. It wasn’t possible. Sareda realized it and believed she needed to be with Richard and his family. Richard again rose to the occasion and organized a pilgrimage from San Miguel by ambulance to the border, then a van with his family to Phoenix, then special plane to Nevada. 

I know there were many ways Richard helped Sareda during her time in Nevada, but the experience he shared that seemed to represent all Sareda had been hoping and waiting for was a final trip to a stream in a familiar wood in Richard’s strong arms, where he dangled her swollen feet in the play of the water. God bless you, Richard, and all the Richards.

Martha Horton