Andalusia’s Jewish footsteps

DANA SCHLANGER

Driving west along the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean Sea through the stunning Costa del Sol of Andalusia, the southernmost region of Spain, I kept musing about the very lines that I’m writing now. You’d think that I would have better things to do, basking in the beautiful November sunshine, barely remembering that there is such thing as rain, snow and sleet, but my mind has a mind of its own, struggling with the questions raised by the previous days’ visits to Sevilla and Córdoba. There, history is alive and vibrant and every step reminded me that there was a glorious time, about 900 years ago, when Jews, Christians and Muslims lived, worked and worshipped together in Andalusia, creating one of the most pluralistic and open societies the world has ever known. What went wrong?

But remember, I’m driving west along the coast and thoughts too profound for the Mediterranean sunshine tend to vanish swiftly. I’m heading towards that little gem of an irregularity on the Spanish map, the famous rock that somehow managed to remain British – Gibraltar. I think that I’m taking a break from Jewish cultural pursuits, because it seems implausible that there are or have ever have been any Jews in Gibraltar, right?

After lining up and being waved through by British customs officers, we park in one of the (free) municipal parking lots and climb the stairs that take us into the heart of the city of Gibraltar, a bustling and noisy slice of London-on-the-Mediterranean, complete with olive and palm trees and Spanish-looking people speaking with an emphatically British accent. As we marvel at this incongruity, I whip my head around, following an Orthodox Jew in full black garb crossing the street. Oh … maybe he’s on business for the day? Three minutes later, a whole Orthodox Jewish family passes by, the numerous children wearing their kippot and clearly coming from school. As we’re sitting in a sidewalk café on Main Street, several Jewish families stroll by, the men wearing the high black hats typical of Orthodox Sephardim. I suddenly notice two side-by-side jewelry stores in front of me and their names read Cohen’s and Cohen and Massais.

At this stage, despite the absurdly expensive rates for international data plans, I grab my partner’s iPhone and decide that I have to learn more. What happened on this tiny territory of 6.8 square kilometres and how did Jews get here?

Greek legend has it that it was one of the Pillars of Hercules who created the Strait of Gibraltar by separating the two continents, Europe and Africa. Traded between the Visigoths, the Moors (who invaded in 711) and the Dukes of Medina Sidonia in 1462 (after the Spanish Reconquista), Gibraltar was sold in 1474 to a group of Jewish conversos (Jews in hiding) in exchange for maintaining the garrison of the town for two years. The 4,350 Jews were expelled two years later, a prelude to the 1492 expulsion of all Jews from Spain.

In 1704, Gibraltar was captured by an Anglo-Dutch force and ceded in perpetuity by Spain to Britain in 1713. But since Jews were banned from Spain after 1492, the Spaniards inserted a clause in the treaty reading: “Her Britannic Majesty, at the request of the Catholic King, does consent and agree that no leave shall be given, under any pretext whatsoever, either to Jews or Moors to reside or have their dwellings in the said town of Gibraltar.” These may be called Spain’s “famous last words” because Jews, in fact, did live in the shadow of the famous Rock of Gibraltar (a monolithic limestone promontory) before and after 1713, though Britain did try to sweep their presence under the proverbial carpet. Up on top of the rock, Jew’s Gate marks the old Jewish cemetery dating back to the 1700s, placed there away from the prying eyes of any visitors so that the clause would never be visibly broken.

But Gibraltar was extremely dependent on nearby Morocco for food supplies and the kingdom, traditionally friendly toward its Jewish citizens, signed a treaty with the British in 1721 that clearly guaranteed the right of Jews to live in Gibraltar.

“In the dark times of expulsion and inquisition, Gibraltar lit the beacon of tolerance,” said the chief rabbi of the United Kingdom in 2004 at the 300th anniversary of the capture of the rock. His statement also pays homage to the fact that the Jews of Gibraltar were evacuated during the Second World War, a rare legacy in Europe. Since the rock went untouched by the ravages of the war, its four historic synagogues are all still in use.

The synagogues are visibly marked on most common tourist maps of Gibraltar, bearing testimony to a thriving, highly recognized Jewish community that is an integral part of the fabric of the city and even made an historic contribution to the creation of Llanito, Gibraltarian vernacular, which is a mixture of Spanish, English, Italian and Hebrew.

It is also noticeable that Gibraltar Jews are almost 100 percent Orthodox – the result of a unique type of social action undertaken by Rabbi Josef Pacifici who assumed the rabbinate in Gibraltar in the late 1950s. Worried by the slackening of religious practice among Jews, he made sure that the future leaders of the community attended yeshivot abroad; when they returned, the community gradually became more Orthodox.

In 2001, Jews formed roughly two percent of the total population and the majority self-described as Gibraltarian. So, it turns out, on my “break from Jewish cultural pursuits,” I landed on a magical rock boasting four active synagogues, several kosher groceries, a Glatt kosher restaurant and a fascinating centuries-long role as a haven from antisemitism. Never doubt the power of Jewish history to surprise.

My Andalusian trip came to an end and perhaps a peak, as well, in Granada, the site of the magnificent palace of Alhambra, where the last king of the Moors capitulated to the Catholic Spanish king, and, in 1492, the site where the fatal edict expelling all Jews from Spain was signed. In the splendor of the Alhambra, I sat, and cried metaphorically, thinking back to that lost Golden Age for Jews, when Córdoba, Sevilla and Granada were lights of the civilized world.

Walking through Córdoba’s La Juderia (the Jewish quarter), a network of narrow and atmospheric lanes, I was reminded, through every architectural detail, garden and stone, about the glory of the Caliphate of Córdoba, which honored and protected the Jews who, in their turn, helped create an exceptionally dynamic civilization.

The images are so vivid, the fragrance of the orange trees lining every square and street intoxicating, even in mid-November. A lively, colorful and sensual world comes to full life in streets that haven’t changed since the Jewish merchants of the early Middle Ages were exhibiting the exotic wares they had just brought back from their worldwide travels. This is where the Jewish population in Spain reached its point of greatest prosperity, intellectual energy and well-being, coinciding with Córdoba’s greatest moment in history. Its mosque rivaled that of Damascus, its markets and palaces amazed travelers, scholars came from afar to its prestigious university and library, and Jewish life harmonized with the Muslim world in various ways.

To complement Judaism’s focus on religious learning, the Spanish rabbis of Córdoba encouraged a secular application of that value, a decision that met the needs of the Caliphs and allowed the Jews to pursue secular as well as religious interests. Culture flourished, theology was debated and systemized, the bases of Hebrew grammar were established and poets wrote brilliant Hebrew verse, reflecting a dominant Islamic culture that prized literature highly. Islamic scholars learned to read scriptures in Hebrew, just as Jews in the area were able to read the Koran in Arabic.
Moses ben-Maimon, commonly known as Maimonides (or Rambam in Hebrew), the most famous Jewish philosopher, perhaps of all time, was born in Córdoba in 1125. A statue in his honor (recently erected) stands in the Tiberiades Square in La Juderia.

Unfortunately, with the invasion of the fanatic Almohads from North Africa in the 12th century, many Jews and Christians were forced to abandon the former enlightened capital and migrate to places where their lives were not threatened. Maimonides went into exile with his family and finally settled in Egypt. He became one of the most-studied Jewish philosophers (also recognized by Christians and Muslims as a revolutionary religious thinker), as well as a highly regarded physician. Among his works are the Mishneh Torah and the controversial Guide to the Perplexed.

Within less than two centuries, the pluralistic and tolerant world of the Moors was to be eradicated by newly invading Muslim tribes and, later, the Catholic kings who sought a “pure” Spanish nation. It is symbolic that the former Jewish quarter in Sevilla, Barrio de la Juderia, is now known as Barrio de Santa Cruz, the Neighborhood of the Sacred Cross. Yet, the atmosphere remains, the stamp of a civilization that could not be eradicated, despite numerous violent attempts.

Dana Schlanger is a freelance writer and director of the Dena Wosk School of Performing Arts.

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