August 19, 2004

For A Teenage Traveler, A Spain And Israel Journey Strengthens The Jewish Soul

By Abby Laub
(Abby Laub, 16, from the Buffalo, NY suburb of Williamsville, NY, attends the Fuchs Mizrachi School in Cleveland Ohio. As one can tell from the following essay, her hobbies include writing.)

What does it mean to identify with the Jewish nation? For many young Jews, this question influences the direction of their lives around the time of their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. For me, it became most meaningful in the eighth grade when I made the decision to live away from home in Cleveland in order to have a superior Jewish education in high school.

Nevertheless the question wasn’t fully answered until I went on this summer’s National Conference of Synagogue Youth’s first-ever “Spain and Israel Adventure,” when as a participant in this Orthodox Union program I was given the opportunity to explore my Jewish roots in ways I never had before.

Appreciating Sephardic Spain
As an Ashkenazi Jew (with a Central or Eastern European ancestor), I had never felt that Sephardic Spain contained religious relevance to my life; after all, Sephardim and Ashkenazim have such different roots and traditions. I soon realized that our external differences were insignificant to our struggles and development as a nation. During the Middle Ages, in a period called the Golden Age, Spain became the center of world Jewry.

We learned how the Jews thrived politically, economically, socially, and most importantly, religiously. Such sages as Nachmanides, Maimonides, and Rabbi Yosef Caro were products of this environment, and their teachings have greatly influenced Judaism as we know it today, for both Sephardim and Ashkenazim. So much of how we comprehend the Torah and choose to lead our lives as Jews is owed to Spanish Jewry.

But Spain’s Jewish community had great tragedies as well, culminating in the Inquisition and the Expulsion by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492. The images of Jews undergoing brutal tortures, being burned at the stake or sailing away on flimsy ships to seek haven elsewhere convey the sense of a cruel and intolerant country, one that as we shall see is still coming to grips with its treatment of Jews.

We visited the gorgeous Transito and Santa Maria La Blanca synagogues in Toledo, as well as the Jewish quarters and synagogue of Cordoba, where Maimonides lived, observing the remnants of the prosperous life Jews once enjoyed. Almost every synagogue had been converted into a church or had been desecrated in some way, and there were no Jews remaining in the Jewish quarter. Although physical anti-Semitism in Spain has ceased over time, to display oneself as a practicing Jew today in Spain nevertheless presents risks, as it does throughout Europe. For this reason, the men in our group, along with most observant Jews living in Spain, covered their kipot (yarmulkes) and tucked in their tzizit (fringes), their external manifestations of Jewish identity and pride.

What Inquisition?
When we would ask Spanish tour guides to speak about the Inquisition or Expulsion, they would abruptly refuse. One such instance will remain in my conscience forever: Our group was being given a tour of the breathtaking Alhambra in Granada, one of the most impressive and elaborate Moorish palaces, which was taken over by the Christians when they conquered the Muslims. As we passed through a relatively simple-looking room, Rabbi Yisrael Lashak, Director of the NCSY Southwest Region, informed the tour guide that this was the room in which Ferdinand and Isabella signed the edict for the expulsion of the Jews in 1492, and asked if she would speak about it. She hurriedly denied that there was such a room, and refused to elaborate on the expulsion. We huddled into a corner of the room as Rabbi Lashak related with emotion and trepidation what the tour guide would not.

We left the Alhambra with impressions of unmistakable beauty, yet with deeply felt abhorrence. It would be wrong to place Spain’s demeanor towards Jews today on the same level as we see elsewhere in Europe, but 512 years after the expulsion, we could feel the vibrations of anti-Semitism, remnants of a past that Spain continually grapples with in its conscience.

Spain Avoids Confronting Its Past
Spain appears not to have come to grips with the horrors of the Inquisition because it never had to. Jews have been away from Spain for so long (even today there are only tiny Jewish communities in Madrid and Barcelona, nearly all newcomers to Spain), and no one has taken the Spanish to task. The tour guides talked about Ferdinand and Isabella as historic forces who unified Spain, without focusing on their persecution and expulsion of Jews. Perhaps the fact that Spain sheltered Jews in the Holocaust plays a role in their unwillingness to confront their own past.

We had many uplifting experiences in Spain as well. We were privileged and honored to be accompanied by the Executive Vice President of the Orthodox Union, Rabbi Tzvi Hersh Weinreb, a renowned Jewish leader, and his wonderful wife, Chavi. Our trip was enhanced by their warmth and knowledge. Rabbi Weinreb offered his insights through classes on Jewish history in Spain and “Ask the Rabbi” sessions in which he discussed issues of Judaism with us. His input and teaching gave us a religious lens through which to view our surroundings.

Rocking at Gibraltar
By spending Shabbat in Gibraltar just outside of Spain’s border, we became part of its strong and proud Jewish community. It was here that I truly understood what it means to embrace your fellow Jew despite differences in religious observance, as the entire community left their separate synagogues after services and gathered in the street to wish each other a Shabbat Shalom. The Jews of Gibraltar realize what it means to be a part of the Jewish nation, and know that through maintaining peace and acceptance among themselves they are fortified against their enemies.

On to Israel!
Then it was on to Israel. Our unnerving experiences in Spain made us appreciate our homeland in ways that otherwise would not have been possible. We didn’t just feel relief at finally being able to speak the language, eat the food, and relate to the people; we felt intense love and devotion for this land whose promise is safety and freedom for the Jewish nation. Learning about the Jews of Spain, so few of whom were able to see their Promised Land, I realized how incredibly lucky we were to be there.

Upon arriving at Ben-Gurion airport, we eagerly set off for the Kotel (Western Wall), to join hundreds of Jews praying there. The experience was powerful: as I closed my eyes, I heard the harmonious blend of crying and singing, representative of a nation that has continually felt pain, yet can still appreciate the good in life. Our experience in Israel was very much a continuation of the Jewish history we had explored in Spain.

Visiting the ancient cities of Safed and Tiberias, we prayed at the synagogues and burial sites of great Jewish leaders such as the AriZal, Rav Yoseph Caro, Maimonides, Nachmanides, and Rabbi Akiva, many of whom came from Spain. As we traveled the land, exploring our past as well as experiencing modern Israel, I could feel my devotion to the country grow as I appreciated, more and more, my roots and my nation.

The Big Picture
By the conclusion of our trip, I saw the big picture. Ferdinand and Isabella had tried to eradicate the Jews from Spain forever, yet 512 years later we were the ones who had returned to stare at their statues with disgust. Hitler and the Nazis had tried to wipe the Jewish race from existence, yet our presence at the Yad VaShem Holocaust Memorial emphasized that the Nazis are gone while the Jewish people have multiplied. The Arab nations had tried and continue trying to destroy Israel as the Jewish homeland, yet our determination to visit demonstrates that we won’t let their attempts conquer us and our dreams.

This trip, then, was more than an experience; it was a statement of commitment to the Jewish nation. From our first day in Spain when we prayed at the synagogue whose congregants had been victims of the Inquisition, to the last day in Israel when we formed a link of 200,000 Jews from Gush Katif to the Kotel to demonstrate the solidarity and strength of a unified nation, we learned what being part of the Jewish people means. It means being an ambassador on both the national and international levels. Firstly, it is to strengthen the Jewish nation by protecting and embracing each Jew. Ultimately, it is to be a light for the nations to learn from, by taking what God has given us and using it to better the world. I am grateful to NCSY for making this journey through the Jewish soul a reality for all of us.

Participants visit the “Man of La Mancha,” a statue of Don Quixote in Toledo.

The travelers’ daven (pray) al fresco at the hotel in Cordoba.

In Granada, where Ferdinand and Isabella decreed the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492, the NCSYers gather outside the Alhambra palace.

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