Discussion 8: Latino Jews

PART XX

Latino Jews, Afro-Latinos, and Amerindians

Page 329

Political and economic strife combined with anti-Semitism prompted more than 100,000

Jews from Europe, North Africa, and the Middle East to emigrate to Latin America at the end of

the nineteenth century and throughout the period of the two world wars. Large urban areas

such as Buenos Aires, São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo, Santiago, Mexico City, and

Caracas today possess communities large enough to forge strong cultural, religious, and

educational associations. Ashkenazim from North Africa and central and eastern Europe arrived

first; they and their descendants represent the majority of Jews who reside in Latin America

today. Sephardim from the eastern Mediterranean constitute the second largest group. Both

adhered to Orthodox Judaism. Lesser numbers following Conservative or Reform rituals

migrated later. These groups generally developed independent religious and social

organizations with little intermingling between them, although this appeared to change in

the late twentieth century. Whatever the country of origin, most Jews formed part of

the middle and upper-middle classes and engaged in professions such as merchandising,

scientific research, and education. Only a few Jews gained political prominence (most notably in

Argentina and Uruguay), due in part to their relatively small numbers and to the misguided

belief that they controlled vast economic resources and perpetuated serious social inequalities.

The activities of the Inquisition fostered anti-Semitic attitudes during the colonial period, and

such attitudes linger in the form of painted swastikas on buildings and acts of terrorism such as

the bombing in 1992 of Argentina's Israeli embassy, which killed twenty-nine, and the bombing

in 1994 of the Argentine Israelite Mutual Association, which killed eighty-five. The Jewish

People Policy Planning Institute estimated the total Jewish population in Latin America for 2005

to be 398,000, down from 514,000 in 1970—the decrease due to economic factors, especially in

Argentina. The three countries with the largest Jewish presence are Argentina (185,000), Brazil

(97,000), and Mexico (40,000).1

Slaves brought to the New World African traditions which, over time, blended with

Christian and indigenous elements. Some followers view these religious beliefs as separate and

distinct from Catholicism while others practice both simultaneously, though without church

sanction. During the colonial period the Spanish Inquisition actively pursued blacks and others

who used witchcraft, but with limited success; one of the reasons for the establishment of a

tribunal of the Inquisition in Cartagena in 1610, in fact, was to root out African religious

traditions at a major port of entry for African slaves in Spanish America. It is not surprising that

African religious influence proved especially enduring in slave areas replenished by frequent

arrivals. This was particularly true in Cuba and Brazil, which received more than 800,000 and

4,000,000 slaves respectively—many coming in the nineteenth century before the final

abolition of slavery in these areas in 1886 and 1888.

The Afro-Cuban religious traditions of Abakuá, Palo Monte, and Santería have flourished

since the early colonial period. All three, notes George Reid Andrews, share common traits:

they revere spirits of the dead, acknowledge the power of supernatural forces found in nature,

and maintain tightly knit social structures in which members receive select sacred knowledge of

rituals and practice as they grow within the religion. But significant differences exist as well. The

Abakuá, like those who follow the leopard cult in Africa, are polytheistic. Devotees of Palo

Monte believe in one all-powerful creator god, Nzambi Mpungu, but rely on the intercession of

the spirits of deceased ancestors in order to resolve conflicts and cure afflictions. Followers of

Santería, or “the way of the Saints,” accept the Christian God and saints as well as African

deities such as Shangó, the god of thunder and lightning. They also use orishas, or

anthropomorphized natural objects, to effect favors on their behalf, and “feed” these orishas

with animal sacrifices. Cuban authorities between 1900 and 1920 falsely accused followers of

African-based religions of kidnapping and murdering white Catholics, although, as Andrews

states, the authorities’ real intention may have been to dissuade whites from continuing to join

the mostly black- and mulatto-directed religions. The exodus of Cubans since the revolution of

1959 has helped to spread Afro-Cuban religious beliefs, especially Santería, to other countries

in Latin America as well as to the United States. In Venezuela, for example, followers of the

ancient spiritist cult of María Lionza had previously sought the intercession of Amerindian

chiefs, Catholic saints, and even national heroes such as Simón Bolívar. With the arrival of

Santería devotees, however, these traditional intercessors have been mostly replaced by Cuban

orishas, and the Venezuelan Santería movement now numbers in the thousands.2

Afro-Brazilian religions, mostly Candomblé and Umbanda, have expanded rapidly since

the early twentieth century. Candomblé is similar to Santería in that it emanates from the

African Yoruba area of southwestern Nigeria and Benin and adopts aspects of Catholic liturgy

such as veneration of the saints. Believers might claim to be Catholics simultaneously, though

the Catholic Church rejects such dualism and views Afro-Brazilian religions as devil worship.

Umbanda, an offshoot of Candomblé, has become the most popular Afro-Brazilian religion since

its inception in the 1920s, presently accounting for more than twenty million followers. Its

name derives from the Abanheenga language of the Tupi-Guaraní and means “the set of divine

laws.”3 John Burdick's work on religions in Brazil includes analysis of the belief system of

Umbandistas. Chefes and ogãs, or revered spiritual leaders, hold rituals that are attended by

groups ranging from a few to several hundred members. Umbandistas believe that one's

goodness and purity at death determines one's location in the multitiered astral plane. The

dead become spirits who wish to become completely pure and to occupy the highest plane.

Female and male mediums help contact the spirits. Mediums acquire this ability either through

birth or vocation. Novice mediums tend to twitch wildly while they receive spirit possession

whereas more skilled and older mediums receive the spirit calmly and naturally. Both humans

and spirits need the help of the mediums, since the former seek spiritual healing, medicinal

cures, and advice while the latter seek to purify themselves. Reincarnation allows all spirits to

improve their place on the multitiered astral plane. Umbandan rituals usually take several hours

and include drumming, the aroma of incense, and mediums who smoke cigars and drink

alcohol, especially beer and cachaça, in preparation for communication with the spirits. “The

basic umbandista assumption,” notes Burdick, “is that no matter how much faith and love one

has in one's heart, one may still be affected by envious or unscrupulous neighbors.”4 So much

is outside the control of the poor, marginalized followers of Umbanda that they are

undoubtedly comforted by this nonjudgmental religious system, which does not blame them

for their own maladies and afflictions or impose rigid codes of conduct that deny the joys of life.

136. Argentinian Jews Flourish despite Adversity

The article below, one of hundreds by Daniel J. Elazar (1934-1999), Ph.D., University of Chicago, late professor of political science at Temple University, Philadelphia, and of intergovernmental relations at Bar-Ilan University in Israel, demonstrates one of his major interests: Jewish community organization worldwide.

The following excerpts must be regarded as no longer current because Elazar's data, gathered in Argentina in 1986, allowed for positive conclusions about the future of Argentine Jewry. Then came the bombing of the Israeli embassy in 1992 and the total destruction of the AMIA (Argentina Jewish Mutual Aid Society) building in 1994, which cost eighty-five lives. These anti-Semitic terrorist acts were followed by the catastrophic collapse, in 2001-2002, of the Argentine economy, which wiped out much of the middle- class Jewish community, reducing thousands to destitution. Professor Elazar's article is relevant, however, because it demonstrates that even in the face of long-time Argentinian anti-Semitism (especially during the 1960s and the Dirty War [see reading 158]) the Jewish community was able to maintain and strengthen its identity.

Is the article below merely sociological, with only passing reference to “Jewish religious life…becom[ing] more important”? Does it provide any specific insight into the religious dimension of Jewish life in Argentina?

For two decades Argentinian Jewry has been portrayed as a dying community. First

there was the collapse of the community's cooperative banking system in the 1960s. Then the

disproportionate impact of right-wing counter-terror on the Jewish community. That was

followed by a general sense of decline in the commitment of individual Jews to communal

institutions as reflected in lower turnout in community elections and less involvement in

communal activities other than the sports clubs which were refuges for Jews but not

strongholds of Jewishness.

Then in the 1970s came the demographic issue. A Tel Aviv University study of

Argentinian Jewry revealed that accepted estimates of half a million Jews in the country were

gross exaggerations. Subsequent studies by the Hebrew University demographers dropped the

number of Jews to below 300,000, initially 265,000 and most recently less than 235,000,

indicating that assimilation and emigration were taking a drastic toll. For most of the Jewish

world the verdict was that we are witnessing the effective end of a community once viewed as

a model of successful Jewish communal life in the diaspora.

This winter's recent [1986-87] visit to Argentina has left me with the belief that the

obituary is premature. The problems of Argentinian Jewry are real enough, whether they are

the common problems of assimilation and acculturation shared by all the diaspora or whether

they are problems distinctive to the Argentinian situation. But that is not the whole story. My

first surprise was with regard to the demographic situation. True, it was not entirely a surprise

since I had earlier come to the conclusion that proper scientific caution had led the

demographers to somewhat underestimate the number of Jews in Argentina. But there I

discovered that the Vaad HaKehilot, the federation of Jewish communities, had begun to

conduct sample censuses of its own in smaller provincial communities and in the two just

completed they had discovered significantly larger numbers of Jews than they had hitherto

estimated. If future censuses of this kind follow the same pattern, then we will have to

substantially revise our present estimates upward.

My next surprise was to find that Hebrew was still more widespread as the language of

the Jewish leadership than in any other diaspora community that I know. I would not like to

suggest that it is the common Jewish language in Argentina but it was clearly easier for me to

speak Hebrew than English with many of the people that I met. Less surprising but still pleasing

was to note that although the old Eastern European-originated institutions of the community

have indeed declined, the community is regrouping around others.

Particularly notable in this respect is the revival among the Sephardic Argentinian

Jewry. The Sephardim had always been able to better accommodate their Jewishness with

integration into larger Argentinian society since they came from similarly Mediterranean

civilizations. Nevertheless, their Jewish ways remained private, confined to their homes and

synagogues.

Now the Sephardim are undergoing something of a Jewish renaissance, expanding their

institutions and most especially their day schools, and undergoing a religious revival as well. In

all of this they are helped by the fact that their institutions have more money at their disposal

(at least per capita) than those of the Ashkenazi community. The Ashkenazim are still suffering

from the failure of their cooperative banks, while the Sephardic Banco de Mayo survived and

has subsequently flourished so that it can provide substantial funding and credit for community

projects. In addition, the younger generation of Sephardim is more likely to continue in the

family business than is the case among the Ashkenazim, where the younger generation tends to

go into academic life or the professions, further reducing the disposable wealth that can be

tapped for communal purposes.

In general, Jewish religious life in Argentina has become more important. Originally an

almost totally secular community with an absolute minimum of traditional Orthodox

institutions, maintained principally for appearances sake, today an increasing number of

Argentinian Jews are finding out what Jews in other diasporas have discovered, that surviving

as Jews requires some kind of religious identification and expression. […]

Another sign of the new-found energy among Argentinian Jews was to be found at the

meeting of the Latin American Jewish Studies Association. That organization, founded originally

by North Americans, led by Dr. Judith Laiken Elkin of Michigan, the organization's driving force,

could not even meet in Latin America until its fifth conference. This year for the first time its

meeting was held outside of the United States, in Buenos Aires with the co-sponsorship of the

AMIA, the umbrella organization or kehilla, of Buenos Aires. Even more impressive were the

number of young Latin American and particularly Argentinian scholars who presented papers at

the meeting, in many cases based upon field research. In other words, Argentinian Jewry is

becoming sufficiently mature to begin to examine itself through accepted scientific methods

and sufficiently important in the eyes of its younger generation to be considered worth

examining. […]

None of this is to suggest that Argentinian Jewry is not undergoing all the pangs of

assimilation or confronting all the elements of anti-Semitism, usually discussed in describing it.

What is important to note is that there is another side to the story as well. As always, we have a

community of Jews living on the razor's edge, showing signs of both growth and decline. Equally

important, no longer is Argentinian Jewry simply a Zionist or Israeli colony. Today it is moving

toward a situation where its voice could also be heard in the councils of world Jewry and it will

have something to contribute.

137. Future Prospects for the Argentinian Jewish Community

The following reading, published in 2005 by the Department for Jewish Zionist Education, a part of the Jewish Agency for Israel, is obviously a necessary complement of the preceding report by Elazar (1987). What insights does it offer about Jewish religious practice in Argentina? Does it preclude the positive approach of Daniel Elazar?

[I]t is important to understand that—unlike the situation in some other national

communities where the principal means to identify as a Jew is through religious affiliation and

membership in a synagogue—the situation in Argentina has long been more about affiliating

through organizations with a particular cultural and political definition. Organisations such as

the Jewish socialist Bund have lasted far longer than in almost any other places in the Jewish

world and left-wing political frameworks within the Jewish community have made their mark

socially and culturally. […]

Traditionally, there has been a very strong and vibrant cultural and educational life

within the Jewish community. In 1999, some 50% of the age group went to Jewish day

schools—a very large percentage for any Diaspora country. Today, the numbers and the

percentage are lower. There are currently about forty Jewish schools (of which, some thirty are

in Buenos Aires), with some 16,000 students, but this is a downward trend.

In cultural terms, the community has developed many vibrant institutions, many of

which were connected, in one way or other, to Zionism and Hebrew culture, both of which have

left deep marks on the community. There are many competent Hebrew speakers in the Jewish

community, as a result of the educational process through which many have passed, such as

Bamah—the Jewish Educator House—and Ebraica—the Jewish Community Center. Zionist

youth movements are also strong in the community, although they were affected by the recent

economic difficulties; they survived the crisis and continue to be an important influence on

Jewish youth in Argentina. […]

There has been considerable assimilation in the community. The current estimate for

the whole of Argentina stands at about 45% of all marriages.

There are cases of intermarriage recorded in the Jewish agricultural colonies in the early

years of the twentieth century, but the numbers went up greatly among the native-born second

and third generation. The numbers of out-marrieds today are very high, especially in the

smaller provincial towns outside of Buenos Aires. […]

The community at present numbers about 187,000. A generation ago it was over

300,000. Some of the numbers have been lost to Aliyah, while others represent emigration to

western countries, but much of the drop in numbers represents assimilation and intermarriage.

To a large extent, the community's future is also linked to Argentina's economic

situation and Antisemitism. If the economy continues to improve to the status quo ante, it

would be reasonable to assume that most of the Jewish community will prefer to remain in

Argentina, and preserve their Jewish identity through the various frameworks and options in

the community.

138. Jewish Life in Contemporary Mexico

Shep Lenchek (c. 1920-2004), a U.S. businessman, retired in Mexico in 1991 where he quickly became a writer for El ojo del lago, the leading English- language monthly of Mexico, staffed by members of the U.S. community. He was

treasurer of the Chapala delegation of the Mexican Red Cross from 1993 until his death in 2004. The following are excerpts from the concluding installment of “Jews in Mexico, A Struggle for Survival” (2000). What is the religious dimension of Lenchek's positive portrait of the Mexican Jewish community?

Most Mexican Jews are well rooted in the society and the younger members of the

group are beginning to take part in politics, something the older generations avoided. There is

evidence that if Jews do choose to enter Mexican organizations and politics, they have every

chance of success. Jennifer Rose Esq., a lifetime resident of Morelia, was kind enough to put me

in contact with a website that deals with the Jews of Tijuana. One current story is about the

election of David Saul Guakil, a Jew, to the Tijuana City Council. He had previously served as

president of the Tijuana Chamber of Commerce. Quoting Sr. Guakil, “Although some

questioned how a young man like me could advance so quickly in the ranks of the PRI, not once

did anyone comment adversely on the fact that I am Jewish.” The same article, mentions a

former president of the Chamber of Commerce, Marcos Levy, also a Jew. Thus it is obvious that

in Tijuana, a city of more than 2,000,000 people with a Jewish population of approximately

2,000, Mexicans will judge a man by his abilities, not his religion. […]

Attitudes are changing as the generation that lived through the brief 1930's outbreak of

anti-Semitism in Mexico, brought on first by a depression and then by Nazi sympathizers,

passes away. Jews seem more willing to enter into the mainstream of Mexican life.

Ing. Alberto Varon M., the honorary Israeli Consul in Guadalajara, Mexico's second

largest city, confirms this. He points out that Jews serve in high positions in the Federal

Government. They are prominent members of the Chambers of Commerce in Monterrey and

Guadalajara as well as Tijuana. Mexico and Israel have just concluded a new trade pact.

Increased contact between Mexican and Israeli businessmen bodes well for Jewish

Mexicans.

Today, most Mexican Jews can be classified as “upper middle class.” Many are

professionals, even more are in business. They do not dominate the Mexican industrial complex

nor its banking system, despite having founded it. All the original banks were nationalized. Thus

the charge that “Jewish bankers” control the economy of a country, a ploy used by anti-Semites

to stir up anger against Jews, cannot be used here.

There is a “café society” in Mexico City that has always welcomed Jews, mostly from the

arts, fashion industries and entertainment world. A Jew, Jacobo Zabludovsky, has been called

“Mexico's Walter Cronkite.” Frida Kahlo, flamboyant artist, lover of Leon Trotsky, wife of Diego

Rivera, was a pillar of Mexico's “smart set,” until her death in 1954. Her father was a Hungarian

Jew and she never denied a Jewish heritage.

Still, for most Mexican Jews their social life centers on their family and within Jewish

organizations. One such group, named Tribuna Israelita, promotes close ties with Mexican

society and monitors anti-Semitism. By and large, groups that promote Zionism and Israel

command most community support. Still, the Jewish tradition of helping the less fortunate

leads the Jewish community to support Mexican charities. The aforementioned Honorary

Consul of Israel gives a monthly donation to the Mexican Red Cross.

The chief problem of Mexican Jewry today is intermarriage, especially of young men

with Mexican women. This is largely because of the unwillingness of Orthodox Judaism to agree

to conversions. They accept only children born of a Jewish mother. Virtual Jerusalem, an

internet website at http://www.jerl.co.il/ that monitors Jewish communities around the world,

estimates the rate of intermarriage in Mexico to be between 5% and 10%. Most Jews in

Guadalajara dispute these figures, claiming they are too high. […]

There is some evidence that the total Jewish population in the country is growing. In

1995 a study by the Hebrew University's Institute of Contemporary Judaism concluded that the

Jewish population of the world is growing in only two countries, Israel and Mexico. This is

plausible, since Orthodox Judaism encourages large families and the majority of Jews in the

country are Orthodox. In Mexico City, it is estimated that over 80% of all Jewish children receive

all of their pre-college education in a Jewish educational network. There are “Talmud Torahs”

that prepare boys for bar mitzvahs and girls for bas mitzvahs connected with every synagogue.

There are several “Yeshivot” which prepare boys for the Rabbinate and a Hebraic University

that turns out Jewish teachers for this educational system. There are more than 16 Jewish

youth groups in the city. In the smaller cities, children are also exposed to Judaism as a way of

life in a less elaborate Jewish school system. The Catholic Church has long proclaimed, “Give me

a child for the first seven years of its life and it will be ours forever.” Mexican Jews have

adopted their theory.

All cities with sizeable Jewish populations have community centers that combine a place

of worship with a cultural center, a private school that offers both religious and secular

education, a library, health club and more. Referred to as “the club” it is the focal point of social

activities for the entire congregation. Mexican Jews see themselves as “family,” even if not

actually related. Often a walled compound, open only to members, these “clubs” minimize

minimize chances of inter-marriage. Non-Jewish Mexican social life also revolves around the

family. Thus, to a certain extent both groups have similar outlooks and attempt to exert control

over the social life of their children.

Questioned about their future, most but not all Jews in Guadalajara are optimistic. All

agree that the main problem is intermarriage. Those who are optimistic feel that the grip of the

Orthodox is loosening. Congregations are moving toward a more liberal conservatism. In 1999,

Reformed Rabbis have visited Mexico City with an eye toward starting a reformed

congregation. Someday, conversion in intermarriages may become acceptable. This would

certainly ease the problem. Also, as the Mexican economy improves, young Jews who sought

better opportunities in Mexico City or abroad can stay or return “home.” Guadalajara is now

the home of high-tech industries, mostly branches of foreign businesses. New opportunities for

well-educated people, including Mexican Jews, are opening up. […]

Speaking with a Jewish woman, she pointed out that the desire to live a full Jewish life is

another reason young Jews prefer Mexico City to other places in the country. “Kosher foods,

kosher restaurants are readily available there. This is not the case in Guadalajara,” she said.

As the younger generation of Mexican Jews becomes the majority, they will possibly

practice a more liberal Judaism than their forefathers. They may become less religious, which

ironically would make it easier for them to live as Jews, no longer attempting to meet all the

demands of Orthodox Judaism. If Reformed Judaism gained a foothold in the country, it would

ease some of the problems of intermarriage. Also, Jews might begin to accept “Converso”

groups who have of their own free will already returned to the religion of their ancestors.

Again, it is the Orthodox establishment that prevents this.

It is also possible that there are still some latent fears of the Catholic Church that have

caused Mexican Jews to maintain a low profile. In early March, 2000, Pope John Paul II laid

many of these fears to rest. He called anti-Semitism “a massive sin against humanity” and the

Holocaust “an indelible stain on the history of the last century.” He continued to seek

rapprochement between Catholics and Jews by visiting Israel and again decrying anti-Semitism

at Yad Vashem, a memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. He also prayed at the Western

(Wailing) Wall, a remnant of Herod's Temple, destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D. It is the

holiest shrine of Judaism. Hopefully, these efforts will have an impact on Catholic attitudes

toward Jews and vice-versa.

Actually, Jews have much in common with their fellow Mexicans. Both groups are

sincerely religious and family oriented. Both were victims of oppression and have suffered

tyranny. Even in modern times, they have felt discrimination, Mexicans in the United States,

Jews in Russia. Descendants of survivors, bolstered by strong religious convictions, they are

determined to survive. Ultimately, like all those who live in Mexico, their future depends largely

on the ability of their homeland to make social and economic progress.

They live with hope.

139. A Jewish Remnant in Central America Corrie MacLaggan (b. c. 1981) published an article in the Chicago Jewish

Community Online (2003), which described the problems facing young Jews who desired to preserve Jewish life in areas of Latin America where Jews are an especially tiny minority. What are the challenges facing these young people, and what are their responses to them? What are the religious reasons behind their desire “to preserve Jewish life”?

Young leaders in small Jewish communities throughout Latin America feel a great

responsibility to preserve Jewish life in their hometowns—and they're worried about the

future. These youths, together with young people from larger communities like Buenos Aires,

came together in this town [Antigua] 30 miles outside Guatemala City as part of the Ninth

Meeting of Leaders of Latin America and Caribbean Jewish Institutions and Communities. […]

Of the nearly 600 lay leaders, rabbis, educators and volunteers from 22 countries who

gathered to share ideas, about 100 were under age 30. At a time when Latin America's

economic problems have caused many Jews to leave for Israel, the United States and other

places, young people said they are concerned about maintaining what's left of their Jewish

communities.

Daniel Cahen [sic], from San Salvador, El Salvador, where there are about 60 Jewish

families, said he doesn't know if he'll find a Jewish woman to marry. “I'm worried for myself and

my future,” said Cahen, 27. “I want my kids to be Jewish.” His concerns echo those of young

people across the region.

Each Latin American country has distinct political and economic circumstances—making

life for a Jew in Monterrey, Mexico, quite different than for one in Havana, for example—the

small communities throughout the region face similar struggles. Many of the young people

from small Jewish communities grew up in places where there weren't always rabbis and where

it could be difficult to connect with other Jews or follow Jewish traditions. Some of them are

working to change that.

Here in Guatemala, where there are about 250 Jewish families, it was common for

young adults to disconnect from the community after graduating from high school, youth

leaders said. Three years ago, a group of young people started the Jewish University Students of

Guatemala. The group includes people between the ages of 18 and 30 who aren't necessarily

students. Joe Kaire, president of the group, spoke about his organization during the conference.

“We didn't have a place to keep developing our Jewish identity,” Kaire, 25, told the audience.

“Now we do, but it's a slow process.” It's hard to form a community, he said, because so many

young Jews go to college outside Guatemala City—either elsewhere in Guatemala or in the

United Sates. Those who stay don't necessarily join the student group. That worries the group's

president-elect, Joseph Mejía.

“We need to unify the community of young people,” Mejía, 21, said. “If not, we're going

to lose the customs.” It's not always easy to live a Jewish life in Guatemala, Mejía and Kaire

agreed. “In Mexico, if you want to keep kosher you have several restaurants to choose from. If

you don't keep kosher in Mexico, it's because you don't want to,” Kaire said. “But here, it's very

difficult.” Even though Mexico has 50,000 Jews, the overwhelming majority are in Mexico City.

Outside the capital, the communities are small and isolated—more similar in some ways to

Guatemala City than Mexico City. Eduardo Berner is from Monterrey, a city of more than 3

million people—including some 120 Jewish families—in northern Mexico. He said that nearly

every Jewish person he knows, including his father and uncles, has had to go to Mexico City to

find a Jewish spouse. He probably will do the same, said Berner, a 23-year-old student.

Maintaining a community of young Jews in Monterrey is a challenge because many young

people go to college in the United States, he said. “I don't know what the solution is,” Berner

said. […]

According to Bertha Delgado Farin, 23, of Santiago de Cuba, the challenge on her island

is how to revitalize a Jewish community that was dormant for years. After the Cuban revolution

in 1959, about 90 percent of Cuba's Jews left for economic reasons, and Jewish life in the

country further dwindled after the government began discouraging religious practice. There still

is no permanent rabbi in Cuba, but Jewish life is thriving again. The synagogue in Santiago de

Cuba, located more than 500 miles from Havana on the southwestern part of the island, was

rededicated in 1995 after having been closed for 16 years.

Delgado Farin did not learn she was Jewish until she was 12. She remembers her mother

lighting a small candle each Friday night, but she didn't know why. Now she attends synagogue

on Fridays and studies Torah on Saturdays. She said she worries about how to get those

younger than her involved in the community. Intermarriage also is an issue, she noted, since

there are only about a dozen Jews between the ages of 13 and 30 in Santiago de Cuba. Though

her own husband is not Jewish, Delgado Farin says she is determined to provide a Jewish

upbringing for their daughter, Sophia, 2. “We have a lot to learn about Judaism,” she said. “But

every day I'm determined to learn more—and I feel extremely, extremely proud to be Jewish.”

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