An Unlikely Association: Perspectives from a Catholic Latina Working for a Jewish Institution

This article was written by Dulce Castañeda, Associate Regional Director for the Austin regional office of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).

Dulce Castañeda

I never imagined I would work for a Jewish institution. I was raised Catholic as the daughter of Mexican immigrants in rural Nebraska where I attended Catholic School and Mass 6 out of 7 days of the week. Admittedly, I had never even met someone who identified as Jewish until I went off to college.

In college, I immediately got involved with the Catholic student center and with Latino organizations. I found my voice and my calling to be an advocate for marginalized communities by studying Catholic Social Teachings and the works of Mother Theresa and Dorothy Day. I became active and passionate about immigrant and workers’ rights. From an early age, I had always been an advocate. At the age of 9, I was translating for my parents and for many students’ parents in grade school when my community began to see an influx of immigrant families. Many years later, I began my career as an advocate for New Americans. Last year, I found myself moving to Texas and searching for new roles. In my search, it became clear that my life’s calling was to help create a more fair and just society for all people. And that’s what I found at the Anti-Defamation League (ADL).

Regardless of our cultural or religious differences, it has never been clearer to me that our human values are often more alike than they are different. It would be a lie to say that I have never questioned my decision to work for a place like ADL or had imposter syndrome thinking that I can’t relate to many of the people involved in its work. Yet, every day, I find that we are strengthened in unity when we fully embrace intercultural and interfaith experiences.

Earlier this month, we took our board on a civil rights journey through Atlanta, Montgomery, Selma, and Birmingham. We began the journey at the Historic Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. served as co-pastor with his father. That was already a privilege.

Being trained as a sociologist and having conducted field observations in various churches, I expected to go into this church as a gentle observer. To my surprise, Senator Reverend Raphael Warnock was present at the pulpit spreading the Gospel that morning. I like to think the stars aligned so we could witness such a powerful Sunday morning church service, but it might have just been God’s plan.

Part way into the service, a soloist began to sing Way Maker. She sang beautifully and fervently. What I didn’t expect were the tears that began to stream down my face the more she sang. I am not much of a crier and was struck by this uncontrollable feeling growing inside me. Trying to compose myself, I looked around to see if others might be experiencing a similar feeling. Sure enough, many others seemed to be experiencing a similar set of emotions.

In the Catholic tradition, we would say that the Holy Spirit worked through the singer and moved us in that moment. Those who are more spiritual might say that it was the soloist’s energy that inspired us. And still, others may say it was simply excitement that overtook us. Whatever one chooses to believe, it is impossible to deny the overwhelming feeling of inspiration and desire to go out and do good in the world after leaving Ebenezer Baptist Church.

That Sunday, I was a Catholic on a trip with primarily Jewish participants partaking in a Baptist church service. Our sentiment was more alike than it was different. This moment of clarity would not have happened for me if I had not chosen to fully embrace working with people of differing cultural and religious backgrounds. I invite others to do the same and allow it to move you however it may.