According to Jewish tradition, when the 12 tribes of Israel fled Pharaoh’s bondage and escaped through the parted Red Sea, each tribe followed a different path.
The Jewish holiday of Passover begins at sundown next Friday, and Jewish Vancouverites will celebrate freedom by reenacting that Exodus in a symbolic and ritualized meal known as a seder. Every family’s seder is different, often following various versions of the narrative as told in the Haggadah — which doubles as the story of Exodus and a manual for leading the family through the steps — but the similarities outweigh the differences.
That is a message Rabbi Ilan Acoca stressed to me when I asked him how his celebration of Passover differs from that of most Jewish Vancouverites. Acoca is the spiritual leader of Beth Hamidrash, the only Sephardic synagogue in town — indeed, the only one west of Toronto. Sephardic Jews are generally considered those from North Africa and the Middle East, descended from the Jews who were forced from Spain and Portugal in the last decade of the 15th century. (Chances are strong that many of the Jews from the far reaches of the Middle East are not descended from the Spanish refugees at all, but Acoca accepts a broader definition, which views Sephardic Jews as followers of the wisdom of Maimonides, the 12th century Jewish philosopher of Spain.)
Far away from the Ashkenazi Jews of Europe, the Sephardic Jews stayed true to their ancient traditions, but influenced and were influenced by the cultures in which they lived. Though there are significant differences between the Ashkenazic and Sephardic traditions and rituals, it is more striking how similar they remained despite half a millennium of separate development. While I wanted to know how they differed, Acoca wanted to emphasize the similarities.
“We have 12 tribes that you could distinguish between, and each tribe has his tradition,” says the rabbi. “However, we are crossing the sea at the same time.”
Still, of the things that would be most obvious to a member of any other synagogue in Vancouver who stepped into services at Beth Hamidrash, Acoca says, it’s the tunes. The sacred chanting of Sephardic Jews reflects the cadences of the music of Andalusia. And while the music influenced the Jews, the Jews influenced the music.
“Flamenco, as it’s known today, is originally from Andalusia and the Jews were part of the development of Flamenco music,” he says.
The food, understandably, is different too. While Ashkenazi Jews’ Sabbath meal will often centre on chicken or brisket, Friday at the Acoca home is Moroccan fish, Mediterranean spices and maybe couscous.
The Jews of North Africa, whose ancestors fled Spain in the 1490s, and the Jews of the Mideast and central Asia, some of whom were part of 3,000-year-old communities, were uprooted again in the second half of the 20th century. After the state of Israel was born and much of the Arab world rose up to destroy it, Jewish people who had lived relatively securely across the region were suddenly viewed as spies and enemies. In successive waves, as many as a million Jews were made refugees from 1948 until today, when there are few or no Jews in countries where Jewish communities had thrived for millennia.
“There’s a lot of history there,” Acoca says. “History that sometimes is forgotten. Jews from Arab countries, most of them if not all of them, left their countries with nothing.”
As a country of immigrants, Canada has felt the ripples of this history. The faces of Beth Hamidrash may be the most visible example.
“We have a whole mixture of people, which makes the congregation unique,” Acoca says. “We have Jews from all over, Jews from Algeria, Jews from Yemen, from Morocco, from Iraq. We have someone who was born in Japan whose parents were from India and grandparents from Iraq. That’s the beauty of it. You have people from the four corners of the world who are coming under the same roof, praying and congregating.”
If you can’t see the difference, you’ll hear it.
“In my congregation,” he says, “you’ll have people who speak French, English of course, Judeo-Arabic, Spanish, and we have a few, not too many, who still speak Ladino,” a language descended from medieval Spanish that is to Sephardic Jews what Yiddish is to Ashkenazi Jews.
While there are different rituals in Sephardic Passover celebrations, the most obvious takes place immediately after the weeklong holiday ends. Unknown in Ashkenazi tradition, Sephardic Jews end Passover with a celebration called Mimouna, a festival of springtime and a return to eating the foods that are forbidden during Passover, when very strict dietary restrictions are observed.
As all sorts of Jews prepare for Passover next week, Acoca reflects on his different — but not too different — congregants.
“Sephardic Jews contributed a lot to their societies,” he says. “They integrated into the society. However the beauty of it is that they kept their Judaism alive, relevant and very, very open for people to come and be part of this beautiful Judaism.”
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