Rare colonial-era mikveh unearthed in Venezuela - Archaeology Israel News | Haaretz

Rare colonial-era mikveh unearthed in Venezuela - Archaeology Israel News | Haaretz

The story is never fully written- this is the rough version

This is very exciting news coming out of "colonial" Venezuela. A mikveh is unearthed in Coro. The mikveh was connected to a house owned by a (probable) descendant of the famous Señor family. Rabi Abraham Señor was the Rav de la Corte, the official Jewish representative at court and a close adviser to the Catholic Monarchs. He and his entire family converted on the eve of the expulsion from Spain. However as Ruben Blades tells us in his epic "Pedro Navaja"- "la vida te da sorpresas, sorpresas te da la vida"- the story was not over with this much celebrated and bemoaned conversion. A few generations later we see the descendants of this family re-appear in Amsterdam under the family name of Coronel and embrace Judaism. It would not be surprising if these Señors made their way to Curaçao and eventually to Coro. Coro lies on the Carribean coast of Venezuela and when the South American nation became independant it became an attractive market for Sephardic merchants. Most of their descendants assimilated into the warm embrace of the tropics. There was one notable poet among the second generation of Sephadim in Coro, David Curiel. Edna Aizenberg wrote lyrically about this dissolute, profane and poetically gifted young man. (will include link)
Mordechai Arbel, as a young Israeli diplomat in the Carribbean found many of their descendants, or I should say they found him. I met him at a conference on the Jews of the Carribean and he told me that he was sent by the Israeli government to the Caribbean to find possible business connections for Israeli industries. As he went about and met people in the merchant community they would slowly disclose their Jewishness to him. he said the scene repeated itself throughout the Caribbean. I wonder what their Jewishness meant to these individuals so far removed from the Sephardim who found their way to the New World and built elegant synagogues and mikvehs?
I thank Laura Liebman for bringing this news to my attention- i am sure she will make some great discoveries about this new piece of the Caribbean Jewish puzzle.

Drunk with Words: returning to the Hebrew poets of Medieval Spain

Drunk with Words

I am into my third week of teaching the poets of Medieval Spain and I feel their words, the contours of their verses seeping into me.

I first began teaching these poets in 2004 to a special group of students at UPENN- part of the school of continuing education- a night school for smart dropouts and people looking to explore areas they never were able to—a “recovering” lawyer—a 55 year old painter who never finished college- a 23 year old poet/misfit with a vulnerable soul, a sweet smile and a sharp analytical eye—these are the students that stand out in my memory but there were a few more.  The poetry was so deep and vast that all I could do back then was use it as a window onto the complex and rich historical context of convivencia in medieval Iberia. What can these poems of wine, and love and war and heartbreak both divine and human tell us about the multi-cultural world of al-Andalus/Sefarad?

I re-engaged these poets shortly before beginning my time at YU through Peter Cole’s marvelous translations in his “The Dream of the Poem”. He came to speak at Brandeis and it felt like I was meeting a rock star! His book was really an “event” for me- another opportunity to fall in love with language and to sense the prophetic energy of poetry in its power to make the old, locked-up sacred texts come alive and speak anew.

My first semester at YU I taught the medieval poets in a small seminar on Jewish culture in Medieval Spain- and that is when I began in earnest my engagement with the poems and poets beyond their “historical value”.  The students were very bright but were ill equipped to think about poetry. These were “gemarah kops!”- bright young men trained in the creative analysis of the legal portions of the Talmud. They wanted to harmonize (“meyashev”) the poets incongruities—I wanted them to relish in those fissures. It was a good experience for all. One of my students was really taken with the biography and the poetry of Shmuel HaNagid, he wrote a long essay on one of the poems and decided to pursue it further in his paper. He contacted Peter Cole with questions and Cole was gracious and helpful.

http://press.princeton.edu/titles/8349.html

Each time I teach this course I feel like I am uncovering a lost continent for myself and the students-  At YU they find kindred souls—models and ideals that at once feel modern and very distant. I am all for the search for models—as long as we are clear that we are “using” history.

In my reading and my teaching I never forget that these poems are a product of their time and place, but over the past few years I have been able to let the context sink back into the foreground and allow the words to enchant me- to lead me down a path all their own.

Shacharticha—I have searched for you—the poets inhabit the world of the young lovers, slipping out before dawn to find each other- mostly they only find heartbreak, abandoned encampments, empty gardens with only a scent of memory of the wine-sweet kisses. We go back and forth between the erotic, the earthly, the divine and transcendent. Between the personal and the national. Each current informs the other. One of the great challenges in teaching this material lies in its fundamental complexity. The poems themselves are written in a lucid manner- the language is clear. The difficulty lies in the complex reality of the world that both informs and is informed by the poetry. It is a tightly wound system where each element impinges, inspires and shapes the other.

This semester I have the distinct pleasure of teaching the same course at Stern College for Women in the morning, and then the same material to my students at Yeshiva College. The repetition is edifying- it strengthens my hold on the poems, it softens my eyes to their intricacy and their lucid, piercing simplicity. The same poems “play” differently in both classrooms for a variety of reasons. Selfishly I enjoy seeing the way the same lines perplex and delight in such different ways.

I prepare by intoxicating myself with the material- I read and re-read the poems, in Hebrew, in Cole’s translation, I look at his fantastically erudite and useful notes. And I return to the poems—I  jot down some notes, make a loose plan of the poems I want to focus on and the order I want to look at them. And I just hope the energy- the dynamic cycle of reading, of soaking up the words and resonances- holds. That I can keep it from spilling out (of my ears??!). Once I enter the class, it doesn’t matter because the students questions –the lacunae in their knowledge that I thought I already addressed- but obviously did not!; their genuine surprise over a detail they did not notice; or their consternation or confusion over the strangeness of the poems- they are thankfully often strange and foreign!— and their energy guide the readings. But I need the immersion so that I can be open to them.

In an attempt to let the words of the poets come alive for my students I have been showing clips of some Israeli performers interpreting the verses of the medieval poets. Ibn Gabirol transformed by Berry Sakharov’s punk middle-eastern fusion, or Moshe Ibn Ezra joyously performed by the extravagant “Israeli Andalusian Orchestra” featuring R’ Haim Lok and Meir Banai and my new favorite, Etti Ankari who has so deeply imbibed R’ Yehuda Halevi’s words that her songs sound timeless- ancient, and yet current. Sometimes they feel like the soundtrack of a dream.

In an interview she recalls how at first she just sat in front of the poems, not able to make sense of them. She says that they were “closed off to me (stumim) until I sat and I sat with them. . . . I realized that the poems did not open up- I became open to them.”

 I want my students to get that, to hear the message of the sacred text- of sacred reading- where the reader is before the text, open, searching and vulnerable. (without the beeps and ticks of our digital cage)

Add

(Drops of rain on a dry summer day in the Alhambra!, gardens like this would be the ideal setting for reciting and enjoying these poems.)

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Some links to the modern rediscovery of the Hebrew Poets of Al-Andalus:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VM0KmmR_0RI&feature=share&list=PLNDwr3PucPdU3FClJRGZ7FeFUC7ULiyAz

Here Etti Ankri shares an insight into how she finally began to really understand the poems of Yehuda halevi and then she sings one of his highly charged divine love songs—

Yedidi Halo Shachachta-

My Beloved, have you forgotten

How you used to sleep between my breasts. . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKbLzMToGWk&feature=share&list=PLNDwr3PucPdU3FClJRGZ7FeFUC7ULiyAz

Berry Sakharov and his heavy hitting orchestra!! Play In Gabirol

http://youtu.be/jk18_YIxINE

Here R’ Haim Lok plays with Sakharov’s group singing Ibn Gabirol’s awesome “Shachar Avakeshcha” “At Dawn I have sought you out” (the sound quality is off but the energy is right ON)

http://youtu.be/7x7mk8LnihI

Israeli Andalusian Orchestra playing Moshe Ibn Ezra’s popular “El Nora Alila”

http://youtu.be/H8vcI8mpW7M

Constantinopla: Jews travelling in the imperial city then and now

Tonight's post takes a rather personal turn after the discussion of Almosninos' book- I hope you find it engaging and that the larger themes become more fully expressed through the reflections on my own travels through Istanbul. 

In 1638 the Spanish monarch's royal translator in the North African colony of Orán, Iacob Cansino, managed to publish a small and curious book in Madrid. It was his translation from Judeo-Spanish of Rabí Mosé Baruj Almosninos' Extremos y Grandezas de Constantinopla. I first heard of this book from Prof. Yerushalmi, Alav haShalom, as part of one of his exquisite tangents during the often boring often exhilerating seminar on the "Impact of the Expulsion" in the Fall of 1998; Yerushalmi was pointing out that there were open Jews who were given official permission by the Spanish authorities to enter and do business in Spain. Cansinos was one such individual, a Judío de Señal (Jew with a sign/badge). He came to Madrid on official business and while there managed to publish a book which lacks any real Jewish content, but where the author's Judaism was in no way hidden; as the title page proclaims: "Rabi Moysen Almosnin, Hebreo".

Cansino dedicated the book to the powerful Conde-Duque de Olivares who functioned as the prime minister and who was interested in finding a working accomodation with both Conversos and open Jews so that they could bring their business acumen and capital back to Spain. So this translation and publication played into a game of patronage and lobbying in some small way. The book describes the wonders of Istanbul, along with detailed descriptions of the political intricacies of the Sultan's court. Almosninos wrote it while he was waiting for an audience with the Sultan to discuss the unusually high taxes recently levied on the Jews of Salonica. He waited quite along time, or Yerushalmi put it: long enough to write a book.

The book has no explicit Jewish content, its importance or utility to the Spanish audience might have lied in its description of Spain's main non-European rival and in its ability to satisfy the curiosity of Spaniards regarding the mysterious world of those powerful infidels in the Levant.

The book would have been fascinating to many readers because of the multi-cultural empire that it describes-- the multitude of languages and religious persuasions all living under the Sultan was deeply alien to a resident of Catholic Spain. How would a Spaniard consider such a mixed society- sadly we do not have any written reactions to this book. I look forward to delving deeper into the history of the book- both in its Spanish and Judeo-Spanish iterations. One question I want to ask  is how does the jewishness of the author come into play- both for the text itself and its reception by Sephardic, Juedeo-Spanish reading Jews and for Spaniards living in Spain.

How does Jewishness, or any other form of otherness impact travel and the textual reflections on that travelling. On some level travel is essentially an unmooring, a constant flow of dislocating moments strung together into a path/a narrative weaving of steps and turns. So how does being socially and culturally other inform the experience of travel.

on a more personal note Cansinos/Amosnino's text can serve as a gateway to my own brief and very recent travels in Istanbul. Below is a travel log of my travels with my family in Istanbul. we were there for a very short time but we tried to pack in and take in as much as we could!! I loved what I saw and I want to go back for more!

Istanbul

where to begin--

after a relatively excellent flight on turkish air we arrived- somehow made it through customs and visa control, etc, navigated baggage claim, cut a deal with a porter to carry our stuff, found our driver (i never had someone waiting for us at the airport with my name on a sign!) and we were off. the driver was very afable and spoke not a word of english! hand signs and smiles got us through it. the late afternoon sun was brght and the sea of Maramara on our right as we drove to the old city was a deep blue. we saw the old walls, dating back to Justinian (4th century I believe) and soon made it into the heart of the Sultanahmet area (most old neighborhoods get there names from the most prominent mosque, which get their names from the sultan who commissioned the building, i am sure they have other more poetic names aswell!)

after winding the maze of one way streets that were regulalrly used as multilane thoroughfares we made it to our hotel, got into our rooms and began to unwind; with an hour left of the fast of 17 of tamuz, and the kids and myself up for adventure we headed out for a stroll.

we walked through the twilight streets towards the blue mosque- as we approached we saw its minarets and cosmic dome open up out of the narrow streets we were walking on- a gasp, a little surprise "ah ha thats it!", we began to walk around the tourist bazaar which seemed geared for high-end tourists (sort of like the Cardo in the Old City of Jerusalem) adjacent to the mosque, the kids kinda not quite sure where they were, enjoying the scents from the spice shops and trying to convince me to buy magnets with femo hagia sophias, etc and other trinkets. as the fast ended 2 teenagers were pushing a cart with cut melons for sale. the perfect break-fast!!!

the next morning we got a late start but mangaed to have an amazingly packed day- especially considering we had 4 jet lagged kids in our entourage-- it was wonderful to see things through their eyes

sultan ahmet chami! aka the Blue Mosque for its abundance of blue tile mosaics was wonderous- and very easy to navigate

the Topkapi palace was very nice- but did not blow me away-- the closest analogy in my own experience would be the Alhambra in Granada and the Alcazar in seville-- both of which can make you cry with delight and awe-- the Topkapi lacked that power.

it was interesting to note the continuities with classical Islamic architecture- lattice work, domes, courtyards, symetry and harmony, the balance between bulidings and gardens, etc. but also the very european touches-- the roccoco style flowers and trompe d'oliel ceilings which seem to reflect both the suspicion and interest that the ottomans had in the West.

I was surprised that there were not too many fountains- at least in the main area where we were --just multiple washing fountains for prayer (we did not enter the "harem apts." or pass on to the gardens behind the treasure rooms, past the "gate of felicity". perhaps because the Turks were surrounded by the sea they lacked the yearning for an oasis that the Arabs brought with them from their dessert roots to their earlier conquests.

we had a great time picnicking on ben and jerry's ice cream, crackers with turkish honey comb, random snacks and a decent turkish coffee

the kids alternated being wowed, BORED, and just open to the surroundings, the people, the differences, the little things. i am curious what the short and long term impact will be for themmy kids, and tammy and myself from the experience of being in a deeply Muslim setting for 2 days-- we heard the call for prayer at night and in the morning- we saw these amazingly beautiful Mosques- both inside (the blue mosque) and just all around us.

At the Topkapi palace we went into the gallery with the relics transffered to the Ottomans from the last caliph in Egypt-- the swords of David, and Muhamud and his companions, the staff of Moses, the turban of Joseph-- what a concrete way to establish your supercession- I tried to think about Jewish cognates but could not. it was bizarre trying to explain to my kids what was going on in that room, especially while we were in it, surrounded by mostly devout muslims-- hope i pulled it off ok!

sadly we did not make it to the bazaar- i think the kids would have dug that- but we had a good time checking out the street scenes, the zany traffic- the fun street foods-- roasted corn, roasted chesnuts, raw clams with fresh lemon, little stands grilling fish by the sea. the little things-

another particular cultural trait we experienced was how openly loving they are to children-- at times this was a bit uncomfortable because they are quite affectionate- tapping Batsheva on the head, offering the kids cookies and candies, stroking emanueala's cheeks

We decided to walk to the ferry. It was an energizing walk from the palace through the city, at least until crossing the Galata bridge which connects the old hisotoric area "The Golden Horn" to the beginning of the more modern area known as Galata because of the ancient tower at the center of the neighborhood. we underestimated how close the ferry would be so the last leg of the walk was a bit challenging- the kids pushed through- Me and Tammy were very impressed!!!
most of the second stage of the walk was through this grungy industrial district till we got the boat-(i really liked seeing the working class neighborhood- the plumbing and welding shops-the men with trays of tea coming around to the different businesses--so civilized- it highlights how ridiculous a "vente starbucks latte" looks!, wouldn't we all prefer a small glass of tea or a tiny pungent shot of coffee brought on a copper tray to our store? or enjoyed with a friend at a small table in the shade?)
 we finally made it to Kabatas, the area where the ferries were. We took the fast ferry and made it to the island by 6-- too late to really explore a lot especially bec. we wanted to take the 8pm ferry back-- the multitude of schedules and ferry companies is dizzying -- we almost missed our ferry back bec. we mixed up the ferry company and we were told by a well meaning traveller that there were no ferries anymore, except for the slow one leaving in half an hour-- it was a very "exotic" feeling-- it encapsulates one of the things i appreciated about Turkey: it is at once very modern and western and very "old world", mildly chaotic and hap-hazard- there is something enlivening and refreshing about things not being so clear and organized- instead it is more organic -- that's my take after a day in Istanbul.

Boyukada is one of the "Prince's islands" in the Marmara Sea. In the summer many Istanbulis either move out to the islands and commute to work in the city or just spend weekends there. My friend Jonnie Shine who met his wife, a Turkish Jew, on that Island told me about the island which is known, supposedly as the "Jewish" island. He encouraged us to go, enjoy the kosher restaurant, and take in the old world charm and beauty of the sea- we were game! We found the Island larger and busier than i imagined for a village on an island that only allows bikes and horse-drawn carriages. The carriages are arranged like a taxi dispatch station- with an announcer on a PA system calling out the next driver- kinda surreal and smelly.
the views of the ocean are deep blue and bright. the weather is delightful- breezy and sunny.
Jonnie who has spent very good times on  the island with his wife's family gave us excellent directions to the restaurant.
the restaurant was delicious and very uncanny- and tammy soon realized that they had an upstairs with spectacular views so we luckily switched and were able to look out on the wide open sea as we tried to communicate witht he waiters!- The lachmagin was the best i ever had-(not that i am such an expert)- the fish was delicious! sea bass straight from the Marmara sea, firm flesh that comes from swimming in the ocean instead of a fish pond! also the freshness was literally palpable. (and i should have ordered the schwarma but did not! alas- need to return- i also should have tried the walnut salad- on  my way out i saw them preparing a circle of chopped greens with tomato and walnuts topped with pomegranate vineagrete) -- speaking of pomegranates, i had a delicious pomegranate soda to wash it all down.
Now the uncanny part: Jonnie originaly told me that Boyukada is known as the "Jewish Island" I assumed we would get off the boat and would encounter a Sephardic seaside village! well, not exactly, at least not where we wandered. We found the restaurant, it had no sign of being Kohser- no Hebrew writing, no Jews with Yalmulkas or Ladino ballads playing on the boom box! In fact it was the most unjewish kosher restaurant I have ever eaten in-- it was filled with devout muslim families-- mostly arabic speakers with their women in full niqab-- just eye slits etc.

they showed us the teuda, all seemed in order - but it seemd like everyone in the place was a descendant of Ishmael- not Jacob.   Ordering was a challenge because the waiters spoke no english but the food and the view made up for the weirdness.

i wish we had more time on the island- we would have called Jonnie's in-laws. Jonnie wanted me to meet a 90 year old scholar of Ladino who is a freind of the family and i would have loved to be able to pray in the synagogue there for minha- alas!!

the directions we got were pretty opaque and led us first through the horse and buggy taxi stand-- pretty smelly- and then through an alley way of lovely cafes and shops. we found the kosher butcher shop- very clean and modern- again no obvious jewish symbols- just a sign on the guy's shirt saying kosher and teudot on the food. he could not give us directions for the Beit Keneset because he spoke only Turkish.

this is clearly a very magical city-- would love to return

i was reminded of israel in many ways-- the weather, the food and the mix of people-- the deep rooted history and culture
because turkey was a cross roads for so long there is no exact "turkish look" there are dark skinned and light, blondes and brunettes, etc. in istanbul most people appear to be pretty relaxed about their religion, however there are plenty of women who were a hijab- in a variety of styles. most ads on the buses look like they do in the west- but you also see many that are clearly geared towards a more conservative clientele-- longer sleeves and hem lines- women (without a headscarf) with their families as opposed to the lone, half naked, waif in a calvin klein ad-- there were also some ads with women in hijab. Islam in the free-market place? what a wonderful thing. nice antidote to political islam.

it was very common to see a hijab wearing woman sitting down to have tea with a tank top wearing friend, or sister. (a scene I saw repeated a few days later at the mall in Kfar Saba with Israeli Arabs some in Hijab others in tight jeans walking and shopping together.) I obviously see this through a Jewish lens and think of the difficulty of seeing such things in Israel- the deep divide between people over religion and how it manifests itself socially. I wondered what those relationships were, in actuality and what they could teach us in an ever polarizing Jewish world.

*One of my favorite scenes was of a group of older women who lived near the hotel. they had a canopy of grape vines that they propped up over their sidewalk. beginning in the early evening they gather there, drink tea and talk, later I went out to buy a bottle of beer from the "makolet" and they were there again, some men and children had joined them, there was a pot of something, more tea some cigarettes all at 11pm-- loved that scene! its the little things :)

Istanbul seems like a real draw for muslims world wide- especially gulf country arabs-- every where we went we saw young couples and families, many speaking arabic with clearly arabic features strolling along with their wives and children dressed in a  variety of robes (abaya?) and hijabs/chadors--

I wonder what they make of the secular-religious dialectic going on in Istanbul-- i realize the Turks themselves are having a bit of a rough ride with balancing that, but at least, here in Istanbul it feels pretty in balance

I also noticed the ubiquity of these hagiographic  portraits of Ataturk-- everywhere!! or almost everywhere- i asked the cab driver if someone who puts up a portrait of Ataturk is a critic of Erdogan-- in his limited English he agreed (sort of)-- "Erdogan not good" !

More stories to come- stay tuned!

istanbul

Midrasha Abrabanel

The uses of Sefarad, part 2: Midrash Abrabanel

I am spending the day at the Jewish National Library at Givat Ram in Jerusalem. Thankfully the high-ceiling reading rooms with their tall, straight windows and neat desks with individual lamps have not changed at all since I was last here about eighteen years ago. The main entrance, however has had a nice makeover, more open, more light and on both sides one can enjoy interesting visual presentations- to the left a collection of captivating photographs entitled the "Readers" based on the photographer Aliza Aurbach's photos of readers -scholars, students, librarians- at the national library and to the right there is a  time line of the history of the National Library with some evocative photographs. The first photograph shows a snapshot of the buzzing activity at the "jsjsajsj midrasha abrabanel". The right bottom corner of the frame is filled with a newspaper on a rod, in the style of the grand old world hotels; as one moves up the image there are rows of tables with books, men of differing religious persuasions reading and often talking about what they are reading and moving about. This curiously named library would soon enough be the basis for the National Library, so named at the :: Zionist Congress.

In this instance I would like to know more about the name- Beit Sefarim Midrash Abrabanel. Why Midrash? and why name it after the 15th century Iberian exegete, philosopher, courtier, financier and Jewish communal leader? Were there already too many related institutions named after the Rambam?
Again- we are always searching for models- even when we break down the old we want to remake it as the best of our past! Abrabanel would embody the ideal of sophistication, reason and worldliness coupled with a deep commitment to the jewish people. Although he could have arranged a safe space for his family to stay in Spain he chose the path of exile and left with his people. He had to remake himself several times after his arrival in Italy but he never gave up on the power of the Jewish people ot persevere. For those European Jews who were at once committed to science, progress and cosmopolitanism and at the  same time felt a sense of Jewish peoplehood and pride in the Jewish cutltural tradition Zionism provided an uneasy but potent synthesis if the universal, the secular and the Jewish.  Could it be tha this small library on shshsh street needed to reflect this synthesis- or dialectic and thus they needed a invoke a figure whose worldliness coexisted with his loyalty and dedication to his people.