Unbroken global bond

After two weeks of chaggim and no newspaper, the SA Jewish Report is filled with depressing news on the home front. Reading this week’s newspaper certainly isn’t going to inspire celebration, particularly in light of our country’s leadership.

Despite this, I find it important to dispel the idea that South African Jewry is in terrible trouble. It isn’t. The reality is that antisemitism and hatred for Israel and all who support it is on the rise everywhere. Though there are those who might want us to believe that Jews are in deep trouble here on the southern tip of Africa, that would be a lie.

Being a Jew in London, New York, or Paris isn’t better or easier than being one here. In fact, while we have haters and they are ugly – particularly on social media – we live a wonderful life here on the southern tip of Africa. And we have a Jewish community that surpasses any other in the world.

I’ve just returned from a trip to Europe, which was beautiful. Walking around on foreign turf, wearing a Magen David and chai around my neck, I had several people looking askance, even glaring at me, but nobody addressed me about it. In South Africa, I wear way more Jewish and Israel-supporting paraphernalia without so much as a negative glance.

Over Simchat Torah, I was in Portugal, which has a history of Jews being chased out during the Inquisition or forced to become Christian. Many changed their religion on the surface, but continued to practice Judaism behind closed doors. There are myths that people still light candles on Friday nights and bake plaited breads, thinking it’s a national tradition as opposed to Jewish heritage.

On Simchat Torah, we went to shul in Lisbon. It was a wonderful but enlightening experience. First, we had to get advanced clearance to go, which meant filling out forms and sending copies of our passports. This isn’t unusual anymore anywhere in the world. Jews must be cautious.

I arrived where I believed the shul to be to find three policemen standing around. Asking if they knew where the shul was, they asked why I wanted to know. I had clearly found the right spot. I turned around to see a huge metal gate that was as high as my eyes could see, with barbed wire on top of it. I could see no shul, that’s for sure. But the police alerted someone inside, and out of the gate emerged a large man who proceeded to question us extensively. It felt much like what you would get when someone is suspicious of you before getting onto an El Al flight.

We passed the test, and the gate opened onto a small road with what clearly led to a magnificent old shul standing on the side. The Shaare Tikvah Synagogue was built in 1904, and held all the stateliness of a shul of its stature and age.

As it happens, the rabbi, Ruben Suiza, had been a rabbi in Cape Town before taking on this position. Walking in and telling him we were from South Africa was heartwarming, especially being called “landsmen” (a Yiddish term for a person from the same land/town) so far from home.

Portugal has a Jewish community of about 5 000 to 6 000 people, predominantly living in Lisbon and Porto. Interestingly, there are only a few hundred formal community members in each of those cities.

Being there on the yahrzeit of the Simchat Torah massacre felt important, and drew me closer to the women standing nearby upstairs in the shul as the men danced with the Torot below us. Despite the inevitable sadness, there was joy in being able to be with other Jewish people and actually dancing after the devastation of the year we have lived through.

I recognised the songs they sang, and sang along. The people even looked familiar, although they weren’t people I knew. The environment felt like home, although it wasn’t.

My point is that in South Africa, we aren’t alone and we certainly aren’t isolated in facing antisemitism. We aren’t alone in our traditions, and we aren’t alone in our religion. We also aren’t alone with our meshugas (absurdities) or our love of family.

So, as you read the newspaper this week and perhaps feel a bit overwhelmed by the news we write about, know that this isn’t just South Africa’s problems. We share our problems with the Jewish world. They aren’t good problems, but they are ours. And we must never hide under a bushel because we are Jews. Because we are Jews, we can be proud.

We give you the stories and information so that you know about it. We don’t hide the truth from you. But instead of feeling depressed and downhearted, don’t forget how over the chaggim, especially Simchat Torah, our community pulled together.

Unlike me, sitting in Lisbon, each South African shul community did something special to commemorate what happened on Simchat Torah last year. More often than not, it was uplifting. People told stories of survival. People shared information that would help others manage their lives better.

So, Simchat Torah this year in South Africa was a bonding and uplifting experience, albeit a sad one. And every time, I feel the sadness of what has transpired in Israel, to Israel, in the Jewish world, and to Jews, I’m reminded of how resilient and strong we are as a community and as the Jewish world.

So, when people threaten us, they threaten a strong, bonded, powerful, super-smart community of people. It’s very difficult to break such bonds. It’s when we are at each other’s throats and don’t stick together that people can break us and get between us. But never if we hold onto each other.

Have you ever tried to break down a wall of bricks bonded with cement, tightly interwoven to be strong and everlasting? It’s not easy! We won’t be broken. Am Yisrael Chai!

Shabbat Shalom!

Peta Krost

Editor