Synagogue

As promised, this post is about my experiences at the only synagogue in Cochabamba. The national referendum stuff will come in another post very soon.
Estimations of the Jewish population in Bolivia center around 1,000. There were once many more Jews here, especially right after WWII, but most have migrated to countries with larger Jewish populations, such as neighboring Argentina. Also, Evo Morales’s election in 2005 sparked a wave of Jewish emigration. This was not due to any anti-Semitism that I can perceive, but rather because the Jews on the whole are whiter, richer, and more conservative than the overall population. This means they are more likely to disapprove of the indigenous, socialist president and to have the means to leave the country. It should be noted that the Morales government recognizes Palestine and not Israel as a sovereign nation; however, I’ll repeat that I see no signs of anti-Semitism here, just a general lack of understanding and awareness of Judaism.

Luckily, I am in one of the two cities in Bolivia with a non-negligible Jewish community. La Paz has a JCC and a Chabad; Cochabamba has a synagogue that does only Friday night services and Bar/Bat Mitzvahs. Rachel and I were connected to this synagogue through a friend of the program who knows a congregation member (if you’re reading this, thanks Jim!)

In fact, that member’s name is Ronny, and describing him would be a good place to start. Ronny is a 50-ish, bald headed, smiley, German-Israeli man who keeps that synagogue afloat. There is no rabbi, so Ronny leads the service every Friday night; I recognize most of his tunes. He leads the service in jeans and doesn’t count women toward the minyan. That’s a weird combination for me. I think of (non-ultraorthodox) Israelis as progressive, but then again I don’t know if it’s Ronny’s decision, nor do I know the strength of his Israeli roots. My only hint is that he carries the classic throaty accent on his R’s.

The synagogue, founded in 1947, is almost in the very center of the city. From the outside there are few indications that the building is a synagogue (maybe a couple Stars of David), but the inside is fantastically beautiful. The sanctuary feels old, grand, and spacious. It’s not wide, but very tall and deep from front to back. Ebony and ivory dominate the color scheme. Black pews extend backward cathedral-style from the bimah. Black, wooden, bleacher-style benches run down the left and right sides. It looks like the old, classy sanctuaries I remember from the children’s books in the Beth El library. I’m debating whether or not to subtly snap a picture.

The congregation is very old and very white. Many trace their roots to Germany and Poland, and several have lived in the U.S. That’s cool, because I can trace my roots to Germany and Poland, and I have lived in the U.S. Many of the congregants look like they could be my family members. Unfortunately, there are very few kids in line to replace the older congregants. Let’s just say that I’m lucky to be in Cochabamba now and not in 20 years.

I have been to two services, and a few moments stick out in my memory. One not-so-great one was when I realized that men and women sat separately. Actually, Rachel realized it; she was by necessity paying close attention and noticed that all the women gravitated to the side-pews as the service got ready to start. I’m not accustomed to that, and my visceral reaction was strongly negative, even though I had known it was a possibility. One guy couldn’t do Mourner’s Kaddish because there were only 9 men.

But the positive memories certainly stick out more strongly in my mind. At a point during that first service- we were singing a very familiar psalm- it just hit me how incredible it was that in this foreign country with essentially no Jews, people meet up every Friday night and sing L’Cha Dodi just like back home. Pretty wild. I also got to eat some challah (not really, but close), and they invited up the one kid at the service to say the motzi and pass around the bread.

The people there are not the most energetic, but they have been kind and welcoming to us. Many take interest in the U.S. and tell of their son or niece or cousin who lives there. One tender man with Alzheimer’s asked me where I was from, how long I was staying, how I learned to speak Spanish, etc. twice in a five-minute span, and then he leaned over to give me a piece of advice: “Never stop smiling.”

All in all, going to synagogue has been an exciting enrichment of my experience here. I plan to keep going on Fridays, and I think Rachel does, too. We’re going to try and find out if any congregants are having a Passover Seder and then (not-so) subtly try to get an invite. Will keep you posted.

Abrazos,

Jacob