Turkish delightsCountry's Jewish sites reflect its long historyVICKI CABOT
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 Minarets of Muslim mosques dominate the skyline in Istanbul. This view can be seen from the city's old historic Jewish quarter. Photo by Howard Ross Cabot |
Interested visitors will find solid, but outwardly unobtrusive synagogues, some still in use, others in a state of disrepair; crowded cemeteries, with stately gravestones laid out in haphazard rows; old-age homes that echo with the ancient Judeo-Spanish language, Ladino, brought to Turkey generations ago.
Jews, members of one of the several religious or ethnic groups lumped together as "minorities" in the overwhelmingly Muslim country, profess religious freedom and point proudly to Turkey's long history of welcome and tolerance. As one of the three "people of the book" cited in the Muslim Koran, they have enjoyed special protection. They are, after all, descendants of Abraham, whose wanderings may have brought him into Turkey, and Noah, whose ark came to rest on Turkish Mount Ararat.
Fiercely Zionistic, they recount that Izmir, a major city on Turkey's western coast, was once called Little Jerusalem, and they revel in the recent easing of strained relations between Israel and Turkey.
Yet even as they retrace their biblical roots and reiterate their commitment to the Jewish state, Turkish Jews despair that their numbers are dwindling and that their children are intermarrying and assimilating, or leaving Turkey altogether in search of a better life in the United States. And as they recall the historic welcome the Ottomans accorded Jews seeking refuge from persecution, they worry about the troubling rise of Islamic fundamentalism in their midst and the increasing encroachment of their Iraqi neighbors.
| Newspaper reflects realities of life for country's Jews |
Different eras in view
From Izmir on the Aegean coast east to Sardis, the sun is warm, the air soft, and the terrain is overwhelmingly green and fertile. It covers the surrounding hills like a patchwork quilt on a lumpy bed, first a square of tobacco plants, then one of grapes, then a stand of fruit trees. Along the road, vendors sell huge rosy peaches and grapes the size of small plums, all beneath cloudless skies.
"A good sweet rain" this past spring insured the bountiful harvest, just one of three the region routinely yields, according to a local guide.
Just past a small strip of shops and cafes, where men sit smoking and drinking strong Turkish tea, are ruins that evoke another era.
The city of Sardis was the capital of the ancient Lyddian kingdom. It is known for its ruler, King Croesus, who is credited with making the first gold coinage, and for its beautiful temples, most notably the Temple of Artemis, built under later Roman rule. But it is also known for its sizable Jewish population and for the synagogue, which dates from the 2nd century B.C.E.; its ruins are still in tact.
The Bible mentions the "Jerusalemite exile community of Sepharad" (Obadiah 1:20), thought to be a reference to the Jewish community around Sardis.
Sardis was situated on the east/west trade route and attracted Jewish merchants to the area. During the Roman Empire, a portion of the large gymnasium was dedicated for use as a synagogue. The impressive ruins that remain consist of a large rectangular area, entered through a courtyard. There are remnants of intricate mosaic designs on the floor, as well as niches carved in the walls, ostensibly for sacred use, and a large table decorated with an eagle and used for offerings. The synagogue ruins were restored about 30 years ago through the efforts of a group of Jewish philanthropists.
Visiting 'Little Jerusalem'
The major Turkish city of Izmir, called Smyrna in the Bible, came to be called Little Jerusalem because of its reputation as a center for Jewish learning.
There are several synagogues wedged between storefronts on the narrow walkways of the bustling Izmir market, in the thick of the bazaar, just adjacent to the fish mongers, to the stalls overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables, to the street vendors hawking blouses and pants.
According to a history written by the Beth Israel Synagogue of Izmir, a synagogue existed in Izmir from the 2nd century, but the organized Jewish community did not come into its own until the 17th century. It gradually increased in size and importance, reaching its apex in the 19th century. At the beginning of this century, it numbered some 50,000; today, due to emigration to the United States and Israel, the population is only about 2,350, which, despite the decline, still supports a community school, hospital, old-age home and youth center.
Past Beth Israel's gated exterior lies a dimly lit entry, where names of generous benefactors are inscribed on marble plagues. A shamos, caretaker, greets visitors.
The well-maintained interior features rich, dark wooden pews, a balcony for the women, and a bimah (platform) in the front. Materials detailing the history of the community and its shul are laid out alongside a synagogue newsletter and commentaries on the Torah portion of the week.
The Jewish community in Izmir is small, continuing to exist "by the help of almighty God," notes the synagogue history.
Looking at history
The panoramic view from the Galata Tower in Istanbul, across the Golden Horn (a swath of blue water that divides the city), is anchored on one end by the striking Topkapi Palace, a remnant of the vast Ottoman Empire that established Constantinople, later Istanbul, as its capital (Ankara is the current capital). The view is dominated by a parade of slender minarets reflecting its singularly Muslim character.
The vantage point is located in the old historic Jewish quarter, not far from the Neve Shalom Synagogue. A nondescript building fronting on a narrow street lined with apartments and shops, Neve Shalom is appointed with marble floors, dark wood interior and a raised bimah with rich burgundy velvet hangings. The women's balcony has beautiful filigreed wood railings; a rosette stained-glass window reflects the morning light.
Most disconcerting is the heavy security at the building. Since an attack 11 years ago which left 20 dead, thought to be the work of Palestinian terrorists, visitors must provide proper identification before they will be admitted, and are searched before they are allowed to enter the sanctuary.
Security is not as tight at the Ashkenazic synagogue, an equally imposing house of worship. Yet, just as Neve Shalom, which is a Sephardic congregation, mirrors more traditional Turkish or Eastern decor, the Ashkenazic synagogue reflects its Western heritage. Open and airy, it seems filled with celestial light. Walls are painted a pale peach, the domed ceiling a stark white decorated with gilt stars. Glowing pale yellow and soft blue accent its beauty, reflected in the natural sunlight coming in through tall, narrow windows.
The Ashkenazic community has always numbered less than the Sephardic in Turkey, where the largest influx of Jews arrived during the Spanish Inquisition, invited by Sultan Bayazid II. Local guides recount that when the sultan heard of the expulsion, he sent boats to Spain to bring the beleaguered community to his shores. The Jews, many of them intellectuals and businessmen, had been good to Spain, reasoned the sultan, and they would be good to Turkey.
Because of Turkey's proximity to major water routes and the tolerant attitude of its rulers, Jews from Hungary, France and Italy had fled to Turkey almost a century before. However, the greatest influx, some 60,000, were Sephardic, of Spanish descent, arriving at the height of the Inquisition in 1492, settling in Istanbul, Izmir and Salonika, a Greek city then a part of the Ottoman Empire. Today there are approximately 26,000 Jews in Turkey, 96 percent of whom are Sephardic. The majority live in Istanbul.
The community, though small, is committed to preserving its institutions. Besides its 14 synagogues, it has a day school, a home for the elderly, a Jewish hospital and youth clubs. Community members are assessed a tax by the governing board and also make voluntary donations for local needs and to support Israel. Ties with Israel are strong, says Isak Eskinazi, a sixth-generation Turkish Jew who works as a guide in Istanbul. Children travel to study or work there in the summer, and there have been two major immigrations to Israel of Turkish Jews in the past 50 years.
Today, says Eskinazi, whose two children live in the United States, many young Jews are opting to come to America, where they feel that they will improve their quality of life. The job market is tight in Turkey, and many feel that they will find more opportunities abroad. In addition, there is the rise of Islamic fundamentalists, now estimated at approximately 17 percent of the population. An increasing number of women wear head scarves, long skirts and long-sleeved coats on city streets. For some, it is a step backward in time for a country where the establishment of the Turkish Republic in 1923 by Kemal Mustafa Ataturk heralded far-reaching reforms, making the country both more secular and more Western. For the Jews, it is an unsettling reminder of dangerous times, and that the delicate balance of power that has secured their future can easily be tipped.
