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January 7, 2000/29 Tevet 5760, Vol. 52, No.18
Making miracles
Cuban Jews rekindle the light
VICKI CABOT
Contributing Editor
Orthodox synagogue in Havana, Adath Israel
Photo by Vicki Cabot
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Who can retell the things that befell us?"
The ancient words of the holiday song resonate for a contingent of Valley Jews who recently traveled to Cuba.
Twenty-seven people participated in a Jewish Federation of Greater Phoenix mission to Cuba Dec. 1-6. Visiting during the holiday of Hanukkah, they relived yet again the age-old story of a small group of Jews clinging tenaciously to their faith, despite fear of persecution, despite want and deprivation. They saw firsthand a tiny enclave of Jewish life, like a flickering flame on the menorah, that miraculously endured, even as it was buffeted by political upheaval, social change and economic catastrophe. And they returned home, not only with a story of Jewish life, but with a commitment, in the words of the holiday song, to retell it.
Repression part of life
In the temporary sanctuary at Adath Israel in Havana, the yahrzeit memorial plaques are lit. On the wall, the kaddish, the prayer for the dead, is posted in transliterated Hebrew. Alongside, another sign in Spanish reads: Se prohibe conversar durante el servicio religioso (It is prohibited to converse during religious services).
In a community where repression is an accepted condition of everyday life, the instruction is just one more to deal with.
Ever since the 1959 Cuban Revolution, Fidel Castro has ruled the tiny Caribbean island, located just 90 miles off the coast of south Florida, with an iron hand. What began as a "people's" revolution to wrest the country from the corrupt control of Fulgencio Batista and the exploitation of American capitalists, evolved into a Communist takeover, with power centralized in the state and Castro as its supreme arbiter.
In the ensuing 40 years, Castro has ascended to near mythic status among Cuba's approximately 11 million citizens, and the idealism of the revolution has dimmed, as the aspired classless society suffers from near economic ruin blamed in part on U.S. foreign policy.
The collapse of the former Soviet Union in 1989 instigated a severe downward spiral, suddenly depriving the Cuban economy of some $5-6 billion in aid. The continuing U.S. embargo, which bars trade with the country until Castro is ousted, is cited as the cause for much of the suffering. Free public education and health care are touted as the revolution's most impressive accomplishments, but life is still very hard.
The average monthly salary ranges from $10 to $25, and most Cubans subsist on a diet of frijoles y arroz (beans and rice). An invitation to share a meal with visitors provides not only some welcome company - but additional sustenance, perhaps a piece of roast chicken or grilled fish.
Religious revival boosted
While most will say that the practice of religion was never prohibited in Cuba, as it was in the former Soviet Union, it was discouraged. Religious affiliation suggested disloyalty with the revolution and precluded Communist party membership, a condition for obtaining employment, housing and other essential benefits or services controlled by the state. A 1992 law reversed that.
The subsequent revival of religious life was boosted by the 1997 visit of Pope John Paul II to the island, and the lifting of a prohibition against celebrating Christmas. Major hotels and other tourist attractions now boast modest holiday decorations, and bellmen at the Melia Cohiba Hotel in Havana sport red-fleece Santa outfits come early December.
Eight years ago, the Cuban Jewish community appealed to the Joint Distribution Committee, an international rescue and relief organization funded through the annual United Jewish Communities campaign, for help. It arrived in a series of impassioned staffers, the most recent a young Argentine couple, Diego and Laura Mandelbaum, who have worked to seek out the tiny pockets of Jewish life and bring them back to life.
The majority of the island's Jews, some 30,000 of them, fled during the years just before or after the revolution; those who remained allowed religious life to languish in the repressive political atmosphere. Today, some 1,500 Cubans identify themselves as Jews.
Jews gather to worship
A large group crowds into El Patronato, one of the three Havana synagogues, on a Friday night in early December for kabbalat Shabbat services.
The 1950s-style auditorium, replete with turquoise mosaic tile walls and matching folding chairs, is filled with Cubans of all ages, interspersed with American guests readying to greet the Sabbath. Led by a fervent young man and his sister, who make up in spirit what they lack in musical talent, the group sings virtually the entire service. A tiny, dark-eyed beauty, perched on her mother's lap, mouths all the words, and young boys, with the unconscious aura of approaching manhood, unabashedly join in.
The community's most recent bar mitzvah is invited to lead a prayer, the sweetness of his voice and sincerity captivating the visitors. Later he confides that he enjoyed his Jewish studies very much, particularly the opportunity to learn Hebrew.
Two little girls in pink-and-white party dresses parade up and down the aisles under admiring glances, and the older congregants sway to the melodies. When the congregation rises to welcome the Sabbath bride, singing the traditional "L'cho Dodee," the room is suffused with joyous expectation.
Later, Diego Mandelbaum, resplendent in a fresh white shirt and cream trousers for Shabbat, addresses the group in Spanish, with a community member translating in impeccable English. A kippah (skull cap) on his dark hair, his eyes flashing, his wiry frame exuding tremendous energy, he speaks of the sweetness of Jewish life and exclaims in Hebrew, "E nay mahtovu manayim, sh'vat achim gamyaha (How good it is to be together)."
Bringing together the disparate group of Cuban Jews and helping to revive a dying community has not been easy.
"What (JDC) found here was nothing," Mandelbaum explains to the group during a briefing. "At the beginning, we had to discover the Jews. The synagogues existed, but few people went to them. And in the provinces (the outlying areas), there was nothing. The Jews did not know one another. We provided a point to come together."
Social life enjoys rebirth
The rebirth began with teaching and learning, and has continued with a focus on education and socialization. In Havana, there are activities throughout the week, classes for all ages, a youth program, women's activities, a dance group and other cultural and social events.
"Our goal is to plan activities that make learning fun," Mandelbaum explains.
One of his most successful is Hidot, a game based on Jewish learning. Organizers distribute lists of questions and answers in advance, and then stage a competition with coveted items as incentives. First prize this year was a VCR, second prize a CD player.
However, Mandelbaum says that the young people do not need to be enticed to participate, as there are very few opportunities for socialization in Cuba.
His young adults group attracts some 40 participants weekly. Activities for those 13 to 20 years old range from sports to games to arts and crafts. Wednesday night is Cine Club, movie night, a big draw, with popular videos screened on TV using a VCR. The community also offers two five-day camp experiences for young people, at which they are immersed in Jewish life and learning.
In addition, the Havana Jewish community has its own pharmacy, where drugs supplied by JDC are dispensed; a kosher butcher; a Hebrew school with some 30 students; a cemetery and Jewish burial society; and three congregations. (Two others are located in outlying areas, one in Santiago de Cuba and another in Camaguey, dedicated just a year ago.)
Adath Israel has been in existence since 1925, and at its present location since 1956. Its sanctuary is being remodeled and should be completed early this year.
Currently there is no rabbi in Cuba; Mandelbaum and Ary Slain, the 23-year-old rabbinical student from Buenos Aires who replaces him this month, serve in that capacity, while overseeing all of the JDC programming. Their programming budget is approximately $50,000.
"What we don't do is not done," says Mandelbaum bluntly.
Mandelbaum explains that he has to obtain government approval of every program or activity he plans, as well as for major purchases.
"It's not permission," he says carefully. "But I must inform them."
Hunger for more than food
Mandelbaum says that each of the 1,300 Havana Jews are connected with the community in some way. Many come on Shabbat or holidays, when meals are provided.
"Food is difficult here," he says, "but nobody will come for something they don't like."
There is a hunger in the Cuban Jewish community that goes beyond mere sustenance and encompasses a greater need for social interaction and Jewish contact.
Saturday morning at the Sephardic synagogue, there is not an empty seat during the lay-led traditional service. At its close, Jacob Levy, the community president and an 80-year-old physician, addresses the group.
"Your visit tells us of the unity in our religion," he tells the visitors.
"The Jewish community in Cuba is alive," he reminds them. "Now, go tell others."
The same message is repeated the following day when the Phoenix group, led by mission leader Mark Sklar, makes a three-hour bus trip to Santa Clara.
The Jewish community there is hosting a Hanukkah party, and members greet their visitors warmly, leading them to a beautiful flower-covered ramada, where the festivities are to take place.
Phoenix visitors impressed
Candles are lit, the Hanukkah story retold and the Cubans best their American visitors at a game that tests knowledge about the holiday. There is plenty of time for talking, smiles and hugs. Photos are taken, addresses exchanged. The highlight of the afternoon festivities is a touching ceremony when guests take turns watering the "friendship tree" planted on Tu b'Shevat by the first American group to visit the tiny community three years before.
Each year, the tree grows taller and stronger, explains Tamil Thatcher, the community president, and each year the connection with the Jewish world is strengthened as well.
"The miracle of the tree is the miracle of Hanukkah in this community," he tells his guests.
"They were so vibrant, so alive, so determined," says Carol Seidberg, one of the Phoenix contingent of the Santa Clara Jews.
"It was so important for them for us to know that they were there," says Lenore Schupak, another of the group.
On the way back to Jose Marti Airport after the short five-day visit, the group passes a billboard, one of many with revolutionary slogans painted in large letters. "Venceremos!" It proclaims. ("We will overcome.") It is fitting, as that is the message of the Cuban Jewish community, as it struggles to be reborn.
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