Personal Stories

[caption id="attachment_9686" align="alignleft" width="116" caption="Maria Fernanada Almeida"][/caption] "I would love to hear the sound of a shofar" - Maria Fernanada Almeida, 50, from Senhora de Oura, Portugal, tells her story for Rosh Hashana. I will never forget that night – Christmas Eve. I was 5 years...

[caption id="attachment_9347" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Krzysztof (Christopher) Sadowski"][/caption] Krzysztof Sadowski was not shocked when his grandmother revealed to her family, just three months before she died, that they were Jewish. Rather, “I was very proud,” he says, “because I know that I belong to a nation with more than 4,000 years of history with a very deep culture.” Sadowski’s story is emblematic of the revitalization of Jewish life in Poland. As the generation that survived World War II and the Holocaust passes away, more and more are sharing their long-hidden roots with their descendents before they die. In Sadowski’s case, his great-grandmother was converted to Catholicism, but “she never forgot who she really was,” he says. Although she faithfully transmitted the story of the family’s Jewish heritage to Sadowski’s grandmother, the latter kept it secret (“It was the age of Communism in Poland,” Sadowski explains, “and people were afraid to talk about the world before the war”). Ironically, Sadowski’s grandmother told her family the truth about their history during a Christmas dinner. Sadowski is young – he is just now finishing high school. He lives with his parents in the small town of Opole, not far from the once-thriving Jewish spiritual center in Wroclaw, and a three-hour train ride from Krakow. Sadowski takes every opportunity he has to visit the big city, where he has become a regular in the Jewish scene there, eating meals at the Jewish Community Center, learning Shabbat songs and attending talks given by Shavei Israel’s emissary to Krakow, Rabbi Boaz Pash. Sadowski’s frequent commutes are made easier by the fact that his father is “a long time railway man, so we get cheaper tickets,” he says with a smile. Since the discovery of his roots, Sadowski has participated in two Shavei Israel seminars in Poland and is looking forward to making his first visit to Israel this summer as part of a Shavei Israel-sponsored trip for Hidden Jews of Poland. “I’m a little nervous about the hot weather,” he jokes. “But I am very excited about seeing the places that are so important to the Jewish people.” Indeed, Sadowski’s relationship with Israel has become central to his Jewish identity. In school, he is often asked to report on the real situation in Israel. He has given presentations to his classmates on Israeli culture and society, the Arab-Israeli conflict, and Israeli innovation such as the pioneering irrigation technologies developed here. Sadowski is a voracious consumer of media, scouring the Internet to stay current on the latest news from the Middle East. He also reads as many books as he can on Jewish topics, which are increasingly available in Poland’s public libraries and bookshops. This openness is a relatively new phenomenon. In the past, the government media “told lies about Jews and Israel,” he explains. “But now we have more contact and a more open media. We can even listen to Jewish music and go to Jewish concerts.” Once Sadowski found out he was Jewish, he never hid the fact from his friends at school. Perhaps most significantly, he arranged for Shavei Israel’s Rabbi Yitzhak Rappaport to come to his class and give a talk about Judaism. Learning he was Jewish was not so surprising to Sadowski for another reason: Poland is a melting pot of cultures, he explains. “Because of all the wars, with Russia, with Germany and Austria, people don’t have only Polish blood. It’s not like in Sweden you may see a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes and you can say he looks Swedish. Here, you can’t say that two Polish guys look the same.” The years of Communist rule also led to Poles not outwardly expressing strong religious affiliation of any kind. As a result, announcing to the Polish public that he was of a different faith was accepted with more equanimity than one might initially assume. Sadowski has learned how to read Hebrew phonetically from the siddur (the Jewish prayer book). He is particularly interested in the “choreography” of prayer – “when to stand, when to bow, when to speak quietly; it is something very deep,” he says – and Jewish law. “It was very important for me to make sure I am Jewish according to halacha,” he explains. But most of all, Sadowski loves to sing. “I am always singing,” he says and admits his friends sometimes tell him to shut up! His favorite songs are the Shabbat zemirot (hymns) he has learned in Krakow. The Internet, again, has played a big role: he can easily look up both the words and the melodies when he is back home with his parents. “The things I really like can be described as a pyramid,” he says. “Being Jewish, singing, and Krakow,” the latter of which he tries to visit every Shabbat when he can. Indeed, he hopes to move to Krakow following his graduation from high school. When he does, the Krakow community will undoubtedly extend a warm welcome to this budding Jewish leader.  [caption id="attachment_9347" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Krzysztof (Christopher) Sadowski"][/caption] Krzysztof Sadowski no se sorprendió, cuando su abuela le reveló a su familia que eran judíos, tres meses antes de fallecer. En cambio, “estaba muy orgulloso”, dice, “porque sé que pertenezco a una nación con más de 4000 años de historia y con una muy profunda cultura”. La historia de Sadowski, es el emblema de la revitalización de la vida judía en Polonia. A medida que la generación que sobrevivió la Segunda Guerra Mundial y el holocausto fallece, más y más personas comparten sus tan escondidas raíces con sus descendientes antes de morir. En el caso de Sadowski, su bisabuela se convirtió al catolicismo, pero “nunca olvidó quién es”, dice. A pesar de que transmitió la historia de la herencia judía a la abuela de Sadowski, está última guardó el secreto (“era la era del comunismo en Polonia”, explica Sadowski, “y las personas tenían miedo de hablar de lo que sucedió antes de la guerra”). Irónicamente, la abuela de Sadowski le dijo la verdad a su familia durante la cena de navidad.
[caption id="attachment_9138" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Leonor Castro"][/caption] When Leonor Castro came to Israel in 2009, it was with a scholarship from the overseas student “Masa” program to study dance. Only 17-years-old at the time, Castro had already danced professionally back in her native Portugal, focusing on contemporary dance and ballet. In Israel, she was invited to join the Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company as an apprentice. And then, something remarkable and unexpected happened. “I fell in love with the country of Israel,” Castro says. “I was always too scared to come. In Portugal, all you see is bombs falling everywhere. But what I discovered was a real feeling of community. Everyone is trying to be your family.” The emotional connection she felt being at the heart of the Jewish people was not something she’d ever experienced in Portugal. “I remember that on the first day of classes on the Masa program,” she continues, “an Israeli girl who I’d only talked to for a few seconds invited me to her house. Everyone wants to invite you for the Jewish holidays. In the space of two weeks, I made good friends who I have until today.” Now, three years later, Castro is still dancing, but it’s been pushed for the moment somewhat to the side as she is preparing to start university in Israel – with a major in neuroscience. Why the change? “I was always connected to the arts, but I also loved research, going into things deeper, especially in the medical area. I didn’t want to be a doctor, though,” she explains. “Neuroscience spoke to me.” Castro grew up knowing she was Jewish, even though she was baptized as a child. It started with her grandfather who told Castro’s family about their Jewish roots and traditions. But then he and Castro’s grandmother moved to Venezuela for work. Her grandmother eventually returned to Portugal to care for her sick mother, while her grandfather stayed in Venezuela. The family sadly lost contact with him, and most of those budding Jewish traditions faded away. And yet, a quiet fire from two generations past still burned in Castro’s heart. “I really don’t know how it happened,” she admits. “But this feeling started growing inside of me. I wanted to study the language. I wanted to learn more about the Holocaust and about Judaism. When I heard about the Masa dance program, I knew I had to come.” Portugal and Israel are very different, Castro says. The key distinction is “whether you’re ‘inside’ or ‘outside.’ In Portugal, she explains, “no one knows the religion of anyone else; it’s not something we talk about in public.” During the time that her grandmother lit Shabbat candles, it was always private; hidden, she says. “Now I’m in a place where Judaism is ‘outside’ of the house.” Castro’s Jewish connection blossomed when she met Shavei Israel’s emissary to Portugal, Rabbi Elisha Salas. “It was in Belmonte where he is living,” she says. “He really helped me, trying to figure out issues of aliyah and returning to Judaism.” [caption id="attachment_9139" align="alignright" width="296" caption="Castro at the Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company"][/caption] Today Castro lives in Tel Aviv’s trendy Florentine neighborhood where she says all her friends are Israeli (“there aren’t many Portuguese here”). She is currently studying in a pre-university seminary to improve her Hebrew. She is also taking courses that will allow her to transfer her high school studies in Portugal to the equivalent of an Israeli matriculation certificate. Looking back on her initial hesitations, she says that, “Israel is not as scary as I thought. It’s really the opposite of what I’d seen in the media in Portugal. If I go out of my house at 11 at night here, I feel safer than if I leave the house at 7 PM in Portugal.” Israel has become her home and she has no plans to turn back. “Israel is an amazing country,” she says. “It has developed very fast for the amount of time it has existed.” Despite her enthusiasm, she has concerns, too. “We need peace,” she says. “Not just for Israel but for the Jewish people all over the world.” When we spoke, the terrorist attack in Toulouse, France, was still fresh in her mind. Perhaps that career in neuroscience can help mend the rifts that cause so much pain – if not in the world then at least inside the brain. And we expect Leonor Castro will keep on dancing….the dance of freedom and joy of living a full Jewish life in the Land of Israel. Here's another picture of Leonor dancing in Israel:

 

[caption id="attachment_9138" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Leonor Castro"][/caption]

Cuando Leonor Castro llegó a Israel en el 2009, lo hizo con una beca de un programa de “Masa” para el estudio de danza. En ese entonces tenía solo 17 años pero ya había bailado profesionalmente en su país de nacimiento, Portugal, concentrándose en danza contemporánea y ballet. En Israel, fue invitada a unirse a la Compañía de Danza Contemporánea de los Kibutzim, como aprendiz.

Y entonces, algo remarcable e inesperado sucedió. “Me enamoré de Israel”, dice Castro. “Siempre tuve mucho miedo de venir. En Portugal todo lo que ves son esas bombas que caen por todos lados. Pero lo que descubrí aquí es un verdadero sentimiento de comunidad. Todos intentan ser tu familia”.

La conexión emocional que sintió al estar en el corazón del pueblo judío fue algo que nunca experimentó en Portugal. “Recuerdo que en el primer día de clases del programa Masa”, continúa, “una niña israelí con la que solo había hablado unos segundos me invitó a su casa. Todos te invitan aquí para las festividades judías. En dos semanas hice de muy buenos amigos con los que cuento hasta el día de hoy”.

From Japan to Jerusalem: the story of Moshe Hattori He served as a Protestant minister in Japan’s fourth-largest city, presiding over a prominent Christian congregation where he was loved and respected by all. But growing doubts about the veracity of his faith led Nobutaka Hattori...

[caption id="attachment_8381" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Jose Manuel Camarero"][/caption] Jose Manuel Camarero has been fascinated by Judaism since he was a teenager. Ten years ago, he began to actively explore his Jewish roots. Today, the 65-year-old retired high school teacher from Granada, Spain, is creating beautiful Jewish art....

[caption id="attachment_7715" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Isabel Fuentes"][/caption] Isabel Fuentes feels she is living between two worlds. On the one hand, she knows intuitively that her family has Jewish roots. But she has been unable to uncover concrete proof. Nevertheless, the 35-year-old journalist and resident of Granada, Spain,...

Avner Diniz se sienta en su living-comedor, en su casa en la ciudad costera de Netanya. Meditando sobre el inusual paso que lo llevó de tan sólo algunas señales de fe en un pasado judío, en su niñez dentro de una familia portuguesa de Mozambique, hacia una nueva vida como judío comprometido estudiando hebreo y judaísmo en Israel. Su travesía comenzó cuando era un niño y jugaba a las canicas con los niños locales. “Recuerdo que le gané a un niño, y él se puso furioso. Me llamó “marrano”, recuerda Diniz. “No sabía qué era. Pero mi bisabuela vio todo desde la ventana. Me dijo, “la próxima vez que alguien te llame así, le das un puñetazo en la nariz. Es un gran insulto para nuestra gente”.
[caption id="attachment_7417" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Haim Fernandes"][/caption] Haim Fernandes, 68, lives in the southern Spanish city of Dos Harmanas. Now retired, he is married and has three grown children who all live near him in Seville. Fernandes is part of the Bnei Anousim (descendants of Spanish and Portuguese Jews who were compelled to convert to Catholicism at the time of the Inquisition in the 14th and 15th centuries. Historians refer to them by the derogatory term Marranos). He tells his story here.