“There is no Jewish community is China”, mumbles Gao Yan on the phone. Her Jewish name is Esther. In another time Yan, 36, a descendant of Kaifeng Jewish family and the owner of the family museum for Judaism, would’ve been glad to boast to an Israeli journalist about the practices of her community, but on the phone she is silent. Only when she says “It’s forbidden here in China, and I don’t want to break the law,” things are starting to become clear. The Chinese government allows the citizens to follow only few religions, leaving the others, practised by minorities, illegal.
An article that was published in the New York Times last year provided an opportunity to look at a Seder of Kaifeng Jews, and showed that the government was tolerant towards the Jewish community during the past few years which allowed a rekindling of the Jewish tradition in Kaifeng. Since then, however, the Chinese government changed its ways. During the last few months the authorities are trying to hide the existence of the Jewish community in China. “I was visited by the government,” Gao Yan admits, “I also suspect that they are monitoring my phone calls and emails”.
Anson Laytner, outgoing president of the Chinese-Jewish institute in Washington, says that “About a years ago, after that last Seder our Chinese Judaism teacher was deported from china. Our educational program was stopped, as well as all the educational programs that were by organized Jewish organization from outside of China. The place where the members of the community used to pray was also shut down, and security people are questioning people in the neighbourhood, probably to intimidate them. According to the reports we have received from China all the signs in the Jewish neighbourhood were removed as well as the memorial stone that marked their prayer spot. We have no way of confirming those reports”. Nowadays organized Jewish groups from the west too are banned from visiting Kaifeng, according to him.
Laytner explains that the attitude towards the Jews of Kaifeng had always been mixed: the local authorities tend to support the Jewish community because it brings tourists and tourists bring money, however the United Front (the popular front of the legally permitted parties in the country) opposes its existence. The opposition is based on a governmental document from 1953 that states that the Jews of Kaifeng must not be recognized as a separate ethnic group, but as a part of Han group which constitutes the majority in the country”.
What made the Chinese authorities to change their treatment of the Jews? Laytner can only estimate. “The breaking point came shortly after two events: the first one was when a woman from the Kaifeng Jewish community came to New York seeking asylum, calming she is a part of a prosecuted minority in China,” explains Laytner and adds that the article in The New York Times probably angered the authorities as well. Last February five young women from the community made an Aliyah after deciding to officially convert to Judasim. They were aided by the Shavei Israel organization with their acclimatization in Israel, and with their new life in a Midrasha in Jerusalem. Sources claim that this story wasn’t received very well by the Chinese government either.
“Even in the state is going to try and oppress them, I think they are going to survive“
Today the Jewish community of Kaifeng has no more than 1,000 residents, compared to about a billion residents of China (“The amount is too small to hurt the status of the minorities, in fact the Jews are not even considered a minority”, Laytner stresses). Researchers estimate that the Jews of Kaifeng are descended from the Jewish merchants that came to China from Iraq and Persia and settled in the city located at the end of the Silk Road, and today it’s located in the Henan province in People's Republic of China. Unlike their brethren from around the world, those Jews never faced Anti-Semitism and the warm treatment they received encouraged their assimilation. Today the community is made out of native Chinese people, and even though they don’t answer the Israeli criteria of who is considered Jewish they didn’t gave up on their Jewish identity and continued celebrating Jewish holidays, reading the Torah, and living a religious lifestyle.
About 200 years ago, when the Rabbi of the community passed away and the local Synagogue was destroyed, maintaining the tradition became more challenging than ever. Only during the 80s, Jewish organizations from around the world started sending emissaries and teachers to the community in Kaifeng. “The religious revival and education were strengthened when China opened for tourists’, Laytner explains, “and Kaifeng opened to Western influence. The community received books and materials about the Jewish identity in Chinese, and we sent teachers to teach them how to pray”. This probably intimidated the Chinese government as well.
Now, when the noose around the community’s neck tightens, its future is unclear. “The more optimistic outcome is that having the Jews of Kaifeng keeping a low profile, stop with the interviews and their connection with western Jews would be enough for the authorities. The less optimistic outcome, and this is probably the goal of the United Front, is that the community would cease from existing”, he says, and explains that despite everything he remains optimistic. “For 200 years the Jews of Kaifeng survived with no Rabbis, no holy texts. What passed from generation to generation was enough. Even is the state tries to suppress them, I think they are going to survive”.
Gao Yan continues her work of maintaining the family museum she established next to the now-destroyed synagogue. In better times she used to sing Sabbath psalms to the visitors, but today this modest saying is enough for her: “Just like Russian Jews and American Jews, Chinese Jews have their own history and it’s important to remember it”.
Are whales Kosher? The story of the Jewish Community in Alaska
This year’s Seder was celebrated in Alaska at 11pm because this is the time is starts to get dark. To keep the families interested, the local Chabad House in Anchorage had a creative idea: “We gathered the community at 8pm, had a wine tasting, at 9pm we had the Kiddush, and then we started the dinner. Then we sang songs, read the least important parts of the Haggadah, and passed the time with singing and dancing for a while. When it darkened we started the official Seder - we read the important parts of the Haggadah and ate the Afikoman,” says Rabbi Joseph Grinberg, a Chabad emissary in Anchorage. By the way, only after finishing with the Seder for the guests the Grinberg family started the proper Seder that carried on till around 3am.
There are about 6,000 Jews currently in Alaska, though only few of them are Inuit. “Through the course of history most of the Jews that came to Alaska were men, mostly during the Gold Rush period. Those men came for the gold and furs. That’s why today there aren’t many native Jews”, explains Joshua Achshok, one of the members of the local community. “Almost everyone are either children of a Jewish man and an Inuit woman so they are not traditionally Jews, or natives that were adopted by Jewish parents”. Rabbi Grinberg says affectionately that in Alaska those Jews are called Jewskimos, and explains that even though Jews are a minority they still hold a respectable place in the community after the first mayor of Anchorage, elected twice in a row, was Jewish. He also says that the purchase of Alaska from Russia in 1967 was initiated by two Jewish fur traders that heard that the Russian Tzar needed money.
Today most of the Alaskan community situated in Anchorage where one can find a large complex that includes a synagogue, a Jewish museum, a kindergarten and a Torah study centre. Rabbi Grinberg says that he had to make the Jewish community from scratch - initially the meetings that included the whole community took place in his basement. He came to Alaska as a missionary of the word of Rabbi Lubavitch 25 years ago after leaving a comfortable life in New York. “After the Holocaust, along with the 6 million Jews that were murdered, many others were exiled and thrown out of their communities”, he says. “The goal The Rebbe spoke of was that every Jew, no matter where he was, could have a place where he can keep mitzvot. I knew I wanted to do my mission the farthest and the most remote place, a place where I can develop Judaism”.
When the Grinbergs arrived to Alaska they encountered a harsh and unusual climate. They had to cover their whole body just to walk to the synagogue on Sabbath, only 15 minutes away. Additionally, the unusual daylight hours don’t go well with the Jewish customs: “When the summer arrives, there will be no darkness at all for two and a half months”, explains the Rabbi, “which creates a big problem with the Halacha. That is why on Sabbath and during the Holidays we calculate when the day ends based on the sunrise hour and divide the days by time periods and not hours. For example, 2am is still midnight.
How can you get used to such an unusual climate? “Jews can get used to anything”, answers Grinberg, “my father was in prison in Siberia for seven years just for being a Jew, and he got used to that too. Not only that did not break him, but after his release he went to Moscow, married my mother and they had 17 children, and today all of us are Chabad emissaries. Achshok has a more practical answer: “The most important thing is too keep up with your daily tasks like usual and not let the weather affect your behaviour and daily routine. Long days are amazing, however the darkness tends to affect some people negatively - for example, those that don't keep to their routine, or don’t leave the house when it is cold and dark outside.”
It’s much easier giving up
Achshok, 36, a lawyer in a local corporation, was born in Barrow, the most northen American city on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, to a Jewish mother from Michigan and an native Inuit Christian father. When he was five years old, his mother took him to a local Rabbi to solve a issue that have been bothering him. “Are whales Kosher?” little Joshua stumped the Rabbi, who told Joshua that he is going to check the issue and get back to him. Later, the Rabbi explained to him that even though whales swim in water, they are mammals and therefore not Kosher. In the end, even though Achshok grew up as a Masorti Jew, he decided to keep eating whales. “I have a compromise between the Jewish tradition and the Inuit tradition of my father’s family. I do the mitzvot and carry the sidur I got from my mother, but I still eat whales, seals, moose, and other animals, and I also actively hunt them. One of the values we live by is to live from nature and hunt to provide for your family and the next generations. I insist of keeping this tradition”.
“We believe that we are not the owners of the land and the animals,” he stresses, “and it’s our job to safeguard all this for the next generations. We also believe that the animals sacrifice themselves for us so we can maintain the community, that’s why it’s important to be respectful towards them. It means killing them in the quickest, the most painless way, and using every possible part of the animal so its death won’t be in vain”.
Achshok explains that the way he sees it the Jewish tradition and the Inuit tradition are a little similar because both of them are based on a tradition that is passed from generation to generation. “Just like people ask ‘Why don’t you move to a less harsh place?’ Or ‘Why don’t you give up on hunting and just buy food from the store?’, they also ask ‘Why didn’t you abandon Judaism thousands of years ago?’. No doubt it would be much easier to give up, but there is one answer to those questions - this is who we are, it is important for us to keep these traditions and faith, and pass them along to the next generations.”
Laying Tfillin alone next to the Amazon River - The story of a sole Jew in Brazil
Ohad Avisher from Ness Ziona, newly-wed and a father to a baby boy, wakes up every morning to a view of the Amazon River. He opens the day with some quality time with his son in a pool at heart of the jungle, later has his breakfast of fresh pita bread his wife makes, renovates the house he made himself from natural materials, and in the afternoon he pops to the local fisherman to see if there’s any new catch. After the meal he’s already into his siesta, and in the evening he watches the sunset from his house. “To live like this in Israel you have to be at least the son of Sami Offer”, he says on the phone while laying in a hammock, in front of him lays a lazy monkey on a green branch.
Avisher, 39, spent most of his life in Israel like the average Israeli. He enlisted into the army and, once discharged, he set out on a trip to South America. But after returning to Israel he couldn't find his way. “I went through three years of trials and tribulations”, he recalls, “I couldn’t just sit down, study and finish my degree. I tried working in many fields: building, gardening, sculpting, waiting, event organizing, technical staff, I even sold a wine press. But it didn’t work. The daily pursuit after money, taxes, even parking tickets - all this pressure didn’t do me any good, so I decided to go back to Brazil, to the village where I finished my trip”.
Alter do Chão - he just couldn’t get this village out of his head: “At the end of my trip a friend told me about it”, he recalls, “so I left all my things at the hotel, packed a small bag with a hammock, a swimsuit, a camera, a toothbrush and 50 dollars, and went there. When I got off the bus I saw a local woman preparing food. I asked her where I can have lunch and she replied that I can eat with her. The treatment, the hospitality and the reception, much less for strangers, amazed me. Every day I took a kayak to the other side of the lake while rivers dolphins swam around me. People invited me to eat and celebrate birthday parties with them just like that, and at night I tied my hammock between two trees and went to sleep”. The week he planned spending in the village turned into a month, and Ohad heard about the cheap real estate prices there. He searched for a while before eventually deciding to “invest” 1,500 dollar into an empty lot. Three years later he already started building there a hut. “I got here, to the middle of the jungle, and set up infrastructure”, he reminiscences with a smile, “I paid some people to dig me a well and started living”. Within six years his hut turned into a Maloca - a wooden, wall-less structure covered with straw. Later he added a built room to the open structure, for the winter or hot summer days.
The nearest Jewish communities, and in fact the only ones remaining in the Amazon River area, are the ones in Belem, a city in the Brazilian state of Para situated on the Amazonian bank, and Manaus in the Amazonas state. “Manaus community has slightly less than 500 Jews, and two synagogues. There are around 1,000 Jews in Belem, along with 3 synagogues, and one Jewish school,” says Arieh Reichman, the Rabbi of Manaus, “apart from those there are no real Jewish communities in the Amazon area. There are just sole Jews, or small groups of Jews scattered in some cities in the area. According to the writings of Rabbi Eliyahu Birnbaum, who researched the roots of Jews in the Amazon River area, their historic origin is of Moroccan Jews that came there to try to get into the rubber business. They called the Amazon River area ‘The Promised Land’.
Even though Ohad was the only Israeli for miles around, and despite being far from his family and friends, he claims that he didn’t really felt lonely: “It was interesting to be by myself. I would talk to my family every Friday, I got friendly with the locals, and when I wanted to meet new people I would travel to Belem, the closest city”. Four years ago everything changed. “I always told myself that I would marry only a Jewish woman and it would be even better if she was Israeli”, he recalls, “but then I started to feel alone and became desperate for a relationship. I remember that I even spoke to God and said ‘Please, send someone to me’. I made a list of requirements and declared that I don’t care anymore if she would be Jewish or not. Shortly after my wife entered my life”.
Even though he married a local woman, Ohad still continues to think of himself as a Masorti. “There were times when I would lay Tefillin every morning, but I started to feel it affected me too much,” he explains. “Today I do it occasionally and make a blessing before every meal. However, I insist on celebrating all the Jewish holidays. There wasn’t one Yom Kippur during which I didn’t fast, last Purim I dressed my son as Superman, and every year I host a Seder. Rabbi Reichman from the Chabad house in Manaus brings me Matza every year and somehow I always find other Israelis to celebrate with me”.
54 years old accountant from Kosovo found out he was Jewish and wants to build there a synagogue
Only a year ago Ruzhdi Shkodra, a 54 years old accountant from Kosovo, got the confirmation that he was Jewish. Rabbi Yoel Kaplan, the Chief Rabbi of the Balkan, researched the roots of Shkodra and found proof to his Jewish ancestry, even though deep down Shkodra didn't need it: “I always felt I was Jewish. I remember that when I was a child we used to light candles on Friday night, but I didn’t know what it meant and no one ever talked to me about Judaism,” he recalls. “Only in retrospect, when I was 15 and my grandmother told me we had Jewish roots I understood the meaning”.
For generations Shkodra’s family hid their roots. During the Ottoman reign they feared they would be forced to convert their religion, and later during WWII they were afraid to be handed over to the Nazis. Under the communist reign of the Yugoslavian president Josip Broz Tito the residents were forbidden to openly express their religion. This is probably the reason why he was named Ruzhdi (mature or wise in Arabic), as an attempt of his family to assimilate into society. In a way, Ruzhdi lives a double life. On the one hand he fought for the independence of Albanian Kosovo that is mostly Muslim. On the other he developed an unusual fondness for Judaism and Israel. At some point he was sent to prison for seven years, and while there he was exposed to the whole story of the Israeli-Jewish battle for independence: “I read the book ‘Exodus’ by Leon Uris and it became a source of great inspiration to me later, when I worked in the service of the Kosovian people,” he recalls. “The two battles are very similar, two nations that are surrounded by enemies for hundreds of years fight for their independence. The difference is that we didn’t have someone like Ben Gurion or Golda Meir”.
During the 90s the Albanian battle for independence escalated and turned into a civil war and thousands lost their lives. Ruzhdi’s wife and children fled to Macedonia while Ruzhdi himself remained in Kosovo until the Serbians retreated. Only in 2008, when Kosovo one-sidedly declared its independence Ruzhdi finally had time to realize his love for Judaism. He founded the “Kosovo House of Israel” with the goal to strengthen the bond between the Albanian and the Jewish people. “There aren’t many Jews is Kosovo, only few dozens, but the “Kosovo House of Israel” gave a strong push to the resurrection of Judaism here, and we insist on keeping our identity,” he says, excited. Last week he even hosted a Seder for the local Jewish community, and his children were there too. Two of them study in Israel in the International program of the Interdisciplinary Centre in Herzliya. “The thing we long for the most is the establishment of a synagogue in the capital of Kosovo, Pristina. Right now we are waiting for the approval of the city council. But I do hope and believe that soon I can invite you to the opening ceremony”.
How do you build a synagogue in a Muslim state? “Yes, most of the residents of Kosovo are Muslim,” explains Shkodra, “but it’s a secular state and we had always treated each other in the most respectful way”. Rabbi Kaplan adds that most of the Muslims in Kosovo belong to the secular-liberal Bektashi Order, and that in the past few years they developed a great sympathy towards Israel: “The Israeli and the Jews are considered here as special and holy, I get stopped on the street so people can take a picture with me, I have friendly relations with both the Albanian Mufti and Dede Baba Mondi, and we all work in full cooperation”.
By the way, Israel didn’t recognize Kosovo one sided declaration of independence due to its similarity to the Palestinian one sided declaration of independence, and its political implications, but Shkodra is not bothered by that: “I think that this ordeal is solely political, and I’m very optimistic in regard of the future of both states. No one can deny the aid that the Albanian people received from the Jews during the war in Kosovo”.
All the details and numbers in this article are kindly provided by Professor Sergio DellaPergola from the Hebrew University, and are from the Jewish American Annual of 2015