6 minute read
MCA mission helps struggling Cuban Jewish community
By Marc Rosenweig, MCA member
Cuba is only 90 miles from Key West, but it is another world. On the plus side, there are the vintage cars from the ’50s, mojitos with Havana Club rum and the finest cigars. You can enjoy entertaining shows at the historic Nacional Hotel and Buena Vista Social Club and pay a visit to Ernest Hemingway’s estate. But there is a considerable downside.
“Cuba is a third world country,” said MCA member Marc Fleischer in prepping our MCA group to visit the island. For about two decades, Fleisher and MCA member Bob Cherry have been leading trips to Cuba to support the dwindling Jewish community on the island.
I had the privilege of being part of their largest group to date. There were 30 of us — MCA members, spouses and a couple of WCA members. We visited four of the five synagogues in Cuba in March. Three are in Havana, along with the Patronato community center. The other synagogue is in Santa Clara.
We brought a total of 200 pounds of clothing, medical supplies and other items for the Cuban Jewish community. Many of us left donations in the Tzedakah boxes.
The World Jewish Congress estimates there are only about 500 Jews remaining on the island. That’s compared to 15,000 just prior to the Cuban revolution in 1959. Poverty is evident. Inflation runs about 80% annually. Next to beautifully restored historic buildings, we often saw crumbling structures with little likelihood of renovation.
“It’s concerning, remarkable, eyeopening, valuable…” said MCA member Andy Barth, reflecting on his range of emotions during the trip. Barth was a TV news reporter in Baltimore for 35 years. “I was especially struck by the banking situation.”
Cubans ask for U.S. dollars from visitors. But to buy goods in any store they have to turn in the dollars at the bank in exchange for a Cuban credit card funded by pesos. When they receive the card, the government imposes a service charge.
Then, it’s on to the ATM to cash in the card for pesos. Around the country, we saw long lines at the ATMs. Some run short of cash.
There are also serious food and power shortages. Even sugar is rationed. The Cuban sugar industry was number one in the world in the 1960s. Now it’s hobbled by antiquated equipment and a lack of trading partners due to embargoes.
Against this backdrop in Havana, we entered the Patronato and Temple Beth Shalom next door, bringing a large donation of used clothing and medical supplies. The Patronato runs a pharmacy.
Hella Eskenazi Flores, who runs the Patronato, said they provide meals for those in need. She also emphasized the educational program for the few young people remaining and their participation in the Maccabi games in Israel, representing Cuba.
At the Centro Hebreo Sefardi De Cuba, several women sold us homemade challah covers to provide funds to aid the elderly. Samuel Zagovalov Montero, a 77-year-old who runs the synagogue, said that prior to COVID, 120 seniors were brought to programs there 20 times per month, but now the skyrocketing cost of gasoline is limiting services and only 40 seniors remain in the program.
Zagvalov Montero said in the early ’90s, Fidel Castro finally allowed Cuban Jews to leave for Israel, further reducing the congregation. The original large sanctuary is now rented to a major dance company. There is a striking Holocaust memorial in the lobby, donated by Steven Spielberg, who visited in 2018.
It’s a three-and-one-half-hour bus ride to the city of Santa Clara, where we visited the Tikun Olam synagogue. It’s in a renovated home and has a large rooftop deck with an impressive tile mural of Jerusalem created by a local artist. Victor Tacher took over as president of the synagogue last year from his brother, David, who moved to Israel for better health care and financial reasons.
Tacher said there are only about 18 members of the congregation. Services are held once a month and on high holidays. Many participants come from other towns in central Cuba.
Tacher directed our bus driver to the Jewish cemetery on the outskirts of town. Inside the walls, there are about 30 graves, including some of children. The group paused there to say mourner’s Kaddish in front of a Holocaust memorial that includes a stone from the Warsaw Ghetto and a recreation of railroad tracks to remember those who were murdered.
It was back to Havana the next day, with a visit to Adath Israel, the only Orthodox synagogue in Cuba. It has a daily minyan and is the spiritual home of the only Kosher butcher.
Rabbi Jacov Berezniak is allowed, by the government, to purchase cows. He’s able to provide three-quarters of a pound of meat to his congregants and those at other synagogues once every nine days.
“It’s impressive they’ve kept the community going,” said MCA member Marc Saperstein. “But it’s a challenge. Another group is making aliyah next month.”
“We believe in miracles and the continuation of the congregation,” said Rabbi Berezniak. “There’s no antisemitism in Cuba. We don’t need a policeman at the door.”
There were many other enlightening moments during the visit to Cuba. Some were highlighted by our knowledgeable guide, Dora. The trip is best summed up by a thank you sent to Bob Cherry and Marc Fleisher from Michael and Sara Landy:
“What a unique experience you provided to our entire group … You have opened our eyes to a remarkable culture, one with a resplendent past and perhaps an uncertain and sad future. However, due to individuals such as yourself, who have introduced so many enthusiastic groups to the otherwise hidden traditions and life experiences of Cuban society (Jews and non-Jews alike), perhaps a flame of hope might be rekindled for the Cuban people.”
You might be asking, “How can I visit the Cuban Jewish community?” The U.S. State Department lists 12 criteria that may qualify for a visit. The MCA group went under the banner of “support for the Cuban people.”
When will Bob Cherry and Marc Fleisher make a return trip? Fleisher says, “If 10 people want to go, we’ll arrange another trip.”
On the final night in Havana, several of us strolled down the wide Paseo de Marti, toward the esplanade, along the coast known as the Malecon. It was difficult to cross the street with the fast-moving traffic, but a middle-aged Cuban man helped us.
“USA” he smiled before we said a word. “Cuba, Cuba,” was our response. For a moment, there were smiles on all sides. We felt welcome in a troubled land.
