los angeles — Rabbi Amy Bernstein says the January 2025 wind-whipped fire that burned much of the Pacific Rim, destroyed her home and damaged her synagogue, “blew everything open” for the community’s religious leaders.
“If our hearts must be broken, let them open,” said the rabbi who leads the Kahilat Israel district, where 300 out of 900 families lost their homes. “This tragedy has brought us closer together. We are working to change the things we need to change.”
The religious leaders of the Pacific region devastated Palisades and in Altadena and Pasadena Fire pair that has torn Southern California apart — has relied on interfaith and community partnerships to rally worshipers who pick up the pieces After 16 months.
They had to quickly learn about insurance coverage and local land use regulations while still trying to keep their scattered herds together and raise money for basic needs. The priests in Altadena had to fight to protect the rights of blacks decades ago Found paths to home ownership In this community despite the red lines – but now they risk losing their land to outside developers who sense an investment opportunity.
Throughout this period, religious leaders had to meet the emotional and spiritual needs of their communities and consider how they wanted to rebuild their sanctuaries that were lost or damaged in the fire. More than a dozen Places of worship were burned On the ground or damaged.
The Rev. Grace Park, associate pastor of Pacific Palisades Presbyterian Church, which burned, said it would have been difficult for religious leaders to deal with this matter had it not been for interfaith relations that became closer and stronger after the fires.
Methodists, Presbyterians, Catholics, Jews and Yogis have not only found common ground in human suffering and loss, but have learned how to lean on each other in a time of great need, she said.
“It’s a feeling of mutual affection and respect, learning from each other and relying on each other,” Park said. “We share the joys and deep valleys of what it means to lead during a time of tragedy.”
Brother Satyananda, a senior monk of the Self-Realization Fellowship, lost his residence and possessions in the fire. Fortunately, much of the campus, started by Paramahamsa Yogananda who brought ancient spiritual practices from India to the West, survived the fire.
Satyananda remembers one day when Bernstein noticed his sadness and offered him “motherly affection.”
“We share the same profession as we deal with people in need,” he said. “Now, our relationship has changed because we are in tune with each other. There is a greater level of trust.”
The Rev. P.J. King, who leads LoveLand LifeCenter, worked with the late Rev. Cecil B. Murray to heal communities and build interfaith alliances after the war. Los Angeles riots of 1992.
“At that time, there was a choice about whether to participate or not,” he added. “But with these fires, there’s no choice. It’s affected everyone.”
King’s congregation has shifted to online services after a rented church building in Altadena sustained smoke damage. Twelve families lost their homes. In addition to helping meet people’s basic needs, King created a congregate program to connect therapists with those in mental health need.
“A lot of people didn’t even know they needed this,” he said.
One of the most powerful roles religious leaders played after the fire was to “continue to talk to authority and the people in charge,” said Pastor Jonathan DeCuir, who leads Victory Bible Church in Pasadena. He and others in the area have continued to meet with local officials and even consulted with Gov. Gavin Newsom to keep things running in their communities.
DeCuir chairs the board of a nonprofit called Legacy Land Project, which provides financial assistance, legal support and guidance on building contractors, as well as medical care to those affected by the fires.
The disaster brought a level of camaraderie that DeCuir says was unprecedented among clergy in the region.
He added: “Sectarian lines have been crossed.” “Even if we have different theological attitudes or approaches to ministry, we are all now looking at how we care for our people and our community. If we don’t come together, Altadena will never be the same. The people won’t be there anymore. And that, to me, is terrifying.”
While a church is more than just a building, physical churches are emerging as “beacons of hope” in traumatized communities, said the Rev. Mayra Macedo Nolan, executive director of the Pasadena Clergy Community Alliance. Her group has pushed for houses of worship to be prioritized equally with businesses in the rebuilding plan.
“When people start seeing the rebuilding of the churches in Altadena, they will feel like it will be okay because the churches will come back,” she said.
On April 26, Altadena’s Fountain of Life Church broke ground on a new sanctuary after a fire destroyed their house of worship, which had stood for more than three decades. Pastor Jonathan Lewis, who serves about 75 people, hopes the church will be ready in time for Easter next year.
“It will be Resurrection Sunday for our church as well,” he said.
Alexis Duncan, who grew up in Altadena and attended that church, broke ground with her 6-year-old daughter. She lost her home and her church building.
“Rebuilding means everything to me because I want the church to be there for my daughter when she grows up,” she said. “This new beginning gives me and my family hope and encouragement to return.”
Some churches, like Altadena Community Church, a United Church of Christ congregation, are pausing to rethink their future purpose. The church is looking at several possibilities for the one-acre parcel, including affordable housing, said Pastor Michael Lewis, who took over in February after the previous pastor retired.
“We know that the church is not meant to be a property owner, and the pastor is not a property manager,” he said. “But we’re also thinking about who can come back to Altadena? How will this rich, economically diverse community that was torn apart by the fires come back?”
The church has been around since the 1940s. This former sanctuary served as a haven for actors, poets, and musicians, and also served as a vibrant performance space. Lewis said they hope to incorporate a performance stage into the new facility.
“It will look different than what we had before,” he added. “Once we figure out how to build a community, we can decide what physical structures will help us support that community.”
As for Kehillat Israel, on May 15, members will carry their Torah scrolls into their sanctuary, marking one of the first houses of worship to return to the barriers since the disaster.
Judaism has a “long history of starting over,” Bernstein said.
“It’s encoded in our cultural approach to the world that there are things that can always be taken from you,” she said. “But what you have become can never be taken from you.”
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