Dear MJCS Family

I am writing this on a Turkish Airlines plane, about an hour away from Israel, where I am traveling to complete my program of three years at the Hartman Institute.

Turkish Airlines? In view of recent political events, this may not appear to be a very good choice, but these tickets were purchased over six months ago. I attempted to change them before leaving Los Angeles, but any of you who have ever purchased a ticket on Orbitz probably know the rest of the story.

When the change became prohibitive, I decided that this was a blessing, an opportunity to see modern day Istanbul at a time when the Jewish community might be undergoing difficult times. My mother was sure that I would be kidnapped. I took off my ever-present little blue star, and feared for my Israeli passport. I decided that it would be best not to advertise the fact that I was a Jew. I fully expected signs reading “down with the Jews” to be plastered on every street corner. I was certain that my flight to Israel from Turkey would be cancelled, and that I would have to make my way across the Mediterranean by other means. 

In fact, none of the above turned out to be true. Yes, there is tension between Israel and Turkey, but I saw very little evidence of it in the streets. Of course, I do not understand one word of Turkish, but I did not hear the word “Israel” once in the many conversations that were around me. If Turks are concerned about anything, it is their own terrorism problem with the PKK, the Kurdish separatist group on their borders. The weekly English newspaper, which was clearly a government sponsored operation, widely praised Prime Minister Edrogan for his leadership vis-à-vis the Arab world, and Turkey’s emergence once more in a Moslem leadership role, but there was no anti-Israel rhetoric per se. Of course, there were no Israeli tourists, and Turkey is a prime Israeli destination spot. But there were very few American tourists either. Most were Europeans, and the hotels we full.

Israeli security is clearly on high alert here. I tried to book a Jewish community tour, and was told that I needed to clear this with the Israeli embassy a week in advance, which was impossible. I did, however, succeed in getting the address of the Ashkenazi synagogue, and went in search of Friday night services. Again, this was a stealth operation that turned out not to be so stealth. As we wandered around searching for the street- I had no exact address- a Turkish family stopped to help. Synagogue? I asked? Synagoga? - No problem. Just go up that steep hill. Take the second street up, not the first- giggles- the first street is the street of the brothels! As we made our way up the hill, nothing looked like a synagogue, and so we asked a local merchant. Which one? he asked. Ashkenazi or Sephardic? Both are in the neighborhood. I felt no anti- Jewish attitude, just a desire to be helpful. On the other hand, the synagogue is not immediately recognizable, as an ugly security building, which has been necessary since the synagogue was bombed two years ago, blocks off the entrance. We rang the bell, and the Shamash came out-“ No service this evening, come tomorrow.”  Immediately I envisioned Jews huddling at home, afraid to come to a synagogue on a Friday evening. We went off in search of the Sephardic Temple, and found the same to be true.

The next morning we returned to the Ashkenazi synagogue, and we surprised to find a small but vibrant minyan. There were but a few women in the upstairs gallery, but about twenty five men below who have clearly been daavening together for a long time.  Great melodies, much singing and joy filled the space as they read Torah and called each other up for aliyot. There was no rabbi, but a young man served as hazzan. After the service, there was a Kiddush with prepackaged kosher sandwiches.  No schnapps- because this is a non-drinking country? - Just Kiddush over wine. It could have been a synagogue anywhere in the world on a Shabbat morning.

One of the women who sat next to me worked for the Ashkenazi Community Association. Her name was Dora, and she was most willing to talk. Friday evening? Are they afraid? No, its summer, and we don’t have a minyan. Seems that the problem is the same all over the world. Only the Shabbat morning die-hards show up no matter what.      Dora seemed to feel that the community was not in danger, and that relations with the Turkish people continued to be good despite a few terrorist incidents that were sponsored from the outside. She had hopes that the current government would fall in elections, and that Turkey would return to its secular and tolerant leanings. Meanwhile, they would just wait it out.

On Sunday we visited the Turkish Jewish Museum, which is in the same neighborhood. It is in an old synagogue, and filled with interesting objects such as a Hannukiah made in the shape of eight Moslem minarets, and a tallit with a star and sickle, the Turkish symbol. The narration told of eight hundred years of peaceful Jewish co-existence in Turkey, home to what was once a flourishing Jewish community, and still a place with 15-20,000 Jews.

The major Jewish immigration to Turkey occurred as a result of the expulsion from Spain in 1492. The Ottoman Turks had conquered Turkey from the Byzantine Christians fifty years earlier, and welcomed the Jews with the attitude that “Spain’s loss is our gain”. Jews were statesman and doctors, and remained at the forefront of Turkish Moslem society for hundreds of years under Ottoman rule. At one point there were 500,000 Jews in the Turkish Empire, but one must remember that the empire included Syria, Palestine and Iraq as well. Today, Turkey’s Jews are predominately still of Sephardic descent, with only 1,000 remaining Ashkenazi Jews. There are 15-20 synagogues, again, depending on the season. All are considered Orthodox, but the Director of the museum, a scholar who lectures on this community all over the world, expressed his desire for a more liberal community. He was more than happy to meet a woman rabbi.

The numbers are down to under 20,000, he explained, because many have emigrated to Israel or America in search of economic opportunity. The birth rate does not equal the death rate, and the community is shrinking.

How does the current tension between Israel and Turkey, and the rise of a Moslem government in Turkey, affect the Turkish Jews? I asked. “In my opinion” he said ”There is not a great problem for the Turkish Jewish community. There have been centuries of cooperation, and under Ataturk, the Turkish diplomats tried save Jews who were in Nazi dominated countries. The Holocaust did not decimate Turkish Jews.  Israel is a source of great pride for the Jews, and of course, we have always turned towards Jerusalem. We are Jews”.

On the other hand, he said, Israel’s policies can be problematic for us. He personally felt that the current crisis could have been handled much more effectively, and that as a scholar and spokesman for a Diaspora community, he had the right to criticize Israel’s policies while remaining a staunch supporter.  Overall, he seemed to feel that relations would continue to be good with their Turkish neighbors despite the government policy on both sides. 

We left the next morning on Turkish airlines, which turns out to be quite up to date- and even serves food on a two-hour flight. Now, it’s off to Israel, and another perspective on the Middle East.

Much love to everyone

Rabbi Judith