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A new book made me appreciate Jewish Sunday schools — and the volunteer women who have powered them
(JTA) — As a kid I went to Sunday school at our Reform synagogue. I didn’t hate it as much as my peers did, but let’s just say there were literally dozens of other things I would have preferred to do on a weekend morning.
As a Jewish adult, I had a vague understanding that Sunday school was a post-World War II invention, part of the assimilation and suburbanization of American Jews (my synagogue was actually called Suburban Temple). With our parents committed to public schools and having moved away from the dense urban enclaves where they were raised, our Jewish education was relegated to Sunday mornings and perhaps a weekday afternoon. The Protestant and Catholic kids went to their own religious supplementary schools, and we Jewish kids went to ours.
In her new book “Jewish Sunday Schools,” Laura Yares backdates this story by over a century. Subtitled “Teaching Religion in Nineteenth-Century America,” the book describes how Sunday schools were the invention of pioneering educators such as Rebecca Gratz, who founded the first Sunday school for Jewish children in Philadelphia in 1838. As such, they were responses by a tiny minority to distinctly 19th-century challenges — namely, how to raise their children to be Jews in a country dominated by a Protestant majority, and how to express their Judaism in a way compatible with America’s idea of religious freedom.
Although Sunday schools would become the “principal educational organization” of the Reform movement, Yares shows that the model was adopted by traditionalists as well. And she also argues that 20th-century historians, in focusing on the failures of Sunday schools to promote Jewish “continuity,” discounted the contributions of the mostly volunteer corps of women educators who made them run. Meanwhile, the supplementary school remains the dominant model for Jewish education among non-Orthodox American Jews, despite recent research showing its precipitous decline.
I picked up “Jewish Sunday Schools” hoping to find out who gets the blame for ruining my Sunday mornings. I came away with a new appreciation for the women whose “important and influential work,” Yares writes, “extended far beyond the classrooms in which they worked.”
Yares is assistant professor of Religious Studies at Michigan State University, with a joint appointment in the MSU Program for Jewish Studies. Raised in Birmingham, England, she has degrees from Oxford University and a doctorate from Georgetown University.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
Tell me how your book came to be about the 19th century as opposed to the common 20th-century story of suburbanization.
There’s a real gap in American Jewish history when it comes to the 19th century, chiefly because so many American Jews today trace their origins back to the generation who arrived between 1881 and 1924, the mass migration of Jews from from Eastern Europe. So there’s a sense that that’s when American Jewish history began. Of course, that’s not true at all.
The American Jewish community dates back to the 17th century and there was much innovation that laid the foundations for what would become institutionalized in the 20th century.
Sunday school gets a very bad rap among most historians of American Judaism. If they’ve treated it at all, they tend to be dismissive — you know, there was no substance, they just taught kids the 10 Commandments, it was run by these unprofessional volunteer female teachers, so it was feminized and feminine.
But there’s also a lot of celebration of Rebecca Gratz, who founded the first Sunday school for Jewish children.
That’s the first indication I had that there might be more of a story here. Rebecca Gratz is lionized as being such a visionary and being so inventive in developing this incredible volunteer model for Jewish education for an immigrant generation that was mostly from Western Europe. And yet, by the beginning of the 20th century, [Jewish historians] say it has no value. So what’s the story there?
Two other things led me on the path to thinking that there was more of a story in this 19th-century moment. I did my Ph.D in Washington, D.C. And as I was searching through the holdings of the Library of Congress, there were tons and tons of Jewish catechisms.
“Sunday school gets a very bad rap among most historians of American Judaism,” says Dr. Laura Yares, author of the new book, “Jewish Sunday Schools.” (Courtesy of the author)
A catechism is a kind of creed, right? It’s a statement of religious beliefs. “These are things we believe as Jews.”
So Jewish catechisms had that, but they were also philosophical meditations in many ways. Typically, the first question of the catechism was, what is religion? And then the second question is, what is Jewish religion?
And then I started reading them. They were question-and-answer summaries of the whole of Judaism: belief, practices, holidays, Bible, you name it, that the children were expected to memorize. This idea that you’ve got to cram these kids with knowledge went against this historiographic dismissal of this period as being very thin and that kids were not really learning anything. The idea that children had a lot to learn is something that Sunday school educators actually really wrestle with during this period.
What was the other thing that led you to pursue this subject?
When I was beginning to research my dissertation, I was working as a Hebrew school teacher in a large Reform Hebrew school in Washington, D.C. And I remember very distinctively the rabbi coming in and addressing the teachers at the start of the school year. He said, “I don’t care if a student comes through this Hebrew school and they don’t remember anything that they learned. But I care that at the end of the year they feel like the temple is a place that they want to be, that they feel like they have relationships there and they have an (he didn’t use this word) ‘affective’ [emotional] connection.”
And so I’m sitting there by day at the Library of Congress, reading these catechisms that are saying, “Cram their heads with knowledge.” What is the relationship between Jewish education as a place where one is supposed to acquire knowledge and a place where one is supposed to feel something and to develop affective relationships? The swing between those two poles was happening as far back as the 19th century.
You write that owing to gaps in the archives, it was really hard to get an idea of the classroom experience. But to the degree that there’s a typical classroom experience in the 1860s, 1870s and you’re the daughter or grandchild of probably German-speaking Jewish immigrants, maybe working or lower middle class, what would Sunday school be like? I’m guessing the teacher would be a woman. Are you reading the Bible in English or Hebrew?
You are probably going for an hour or two on a Sunday morning. It’s a big room, and your particular class would have a corner of the room. It’s quite chaotic. Most of the teachers were female volunteers. They were either young and unmarried, or older women whose children had grown. Except for the students who are preparing for confirmation — the grand kind of graduation ritual for Sunday schools. Those classes were typically taught by the rabbi, if there was a rabbi associated with the school.
There would be a lot of reading out loud to the students with students being expected to repeat back what they had heard or write it down so they had a copy for themselves. Often the day would begin with prayers said in English, and often the reading of the Torah portion, typically in English, although in many Sunday schools, we do have children reporting they learned bits of Hebrew by rote memorization. Or they memorized the first chapters of the book of Genesis, for example, but I’m not sure that they quite understood what they memorized. “Ein Keloheinu” is a song that often children tell us [in archival materials] that they had memorized in Hebrew. They probably would have learned at least Hebrew script, and a little bit of Hebrew decoding. But it is fair to say that if they were reading the Bible, they were reading it mostly in English, because you have to remember that most of the women who were volunteering to teach in these schools came of age in a generation where Hebrew education wasn’t extended to women.
What’s the goal of these Sunday schools?
The Sunday school movement arose because there was a whole generation of immigrant children who did not have access to Jewish education, because their parents didn’t have either the economic capital or the social capital to become part of the established Jewish community. They couldn’t afford a seat in the synagogue, they couldn’t afford to send their children to congregational all-day or every-afternoon schools [which were among the few options for Jewish education when Gratz opened the Philadelphia Sunday school]. Sunday schools are really a very innovative solution to a problem of a lack of resources.
You also write that the founders of these supplementary schools want to defend children against “predatory evangelists.”
That was how Rebecca Gratz described her goal when she created the first Sunday school. She was very, very worried about the Jewish kids who were not receiving any kind of Hebrew school education. She talks about Protestant missionaries and teachers who would go out onto the street ringing the bell for Sunday school and offering various kinds of trinkets, and Jewish kids would get kind of swept into their Sunday schools. There was a very concrete need to give Jewish children somewhere else to go.
So Gratz and the people who created the first Hebrew Sunday school in Philadelphia looked at what the Protestants were doing and they saw that Protestant Sunday schools were providing very accessible places where kids could go and get a basic primer in their religious tradition.
The approach was to teach Judaism as a religion, as opposed to Judaism as a people or culture, to demonstrate that being Jewish was as compatible as Protestantism with being wholly American.
That is certainly part of it. It’s a demonstration that Judaism is compatible with American public life. But I think there’s actually a much bigger claim that the Sunday schools are making. The claim is not only that Judaism is as good as Protestantism, but that Judaism does religion better than Protestantism. These rabbis who were writing catechisms and teaching confirmation classes were saying that Judaism does liberal religion better than liberal Protestants, liberal Catholics and other kinds of liberal denominations. You see the same sentiment in the Pittsburgh Platform as well, which is the foundational platform of the Reform movement written in the 1880s. Sunday schools take that idea and bring it down to a grassroots level.
There are many, many fewer Jews in America in much of the 19th century, before the waves of Eastern European immigrants arrived beginning in the 1880s They didn’t really have strength in numbers, or the kind of self-confidence to have a system of day schools, yeshivas or heders, the elementary schools for all-day or every day Jewish instruction.
And this is also a community that has grown up at the same time as the birth of public education in America, independent of churches. That really emerged beginning on the East Coast in the 1840s.This generation of Americans really believes in the power of public education to craft an American public. It’s a project that 19th-century American Jews believe in and want to sustain. So Sunday schools don’t just become the preferred Jewish model because of lack of resources, but because American Jews really believe in the idea of public education.
What happens at the beginning of the 20th century, with the arrival of Eastern Europeans with different models for Jewish education?
A new generation tries to reform Jewish education, led by a young educator from Palestine named Samson Benderly, who leads the new New York Bureau of Jewish Education. He tries to change American Jewish education to make it more professionalized, but to bring more traditionally inclined Jews on board he has to convince them that he doesn’t want to make more Sunday schools, because Sunday schools by the end of the 20th century had become very much associated with the Reform movement in a way that they weren’t when they were founded and for much of the 19th century.
A painting of Philadelphia philanthropist and Jewish education activist Rebecca Gratz by Thomas Sully. (The Rosenbach of the Free Library of Philadelphia)
Benderly is surveying the scene of recent immigrants living in New York City [tenements] and other kinds of downtown environments, and his proposal is to create these community institutions for these dense communities, where children can be taught Hebrew in Hebrew. His disciples also created Jewish camps as a way to get children out of the inner cities and develop the muscular Zionist ideal of healthy bodies and a robust sense of Jewish collectivity.
You write that Benderly’s vision is a sort of masculine response to the “feminizing” perception of the Sunday schools.
These women teachers are recognizing that they’re being criticized for the kind of thinness of the Jewish education that they’re teaching in comparison to other models, but in periodicals like The American Jewess women are writing back and saying, “But you didn’t teach us Hebrew! I didn’t get that opportunity as a woman, so what do you expect?” It’s really important to note that the women did the best that they could in the time that they had available, and that they were the product of opportunities that were denied to them.
What lessons did you learn about Sunday school and Hebrew school education in the 20th century that relate to your research into the 19th century?
The move that is so decisive for shaping American Jewish education is suburbanization. Rather than having a large immigrant generation who are living in these tight ethnic enclaves, you have American Jewish children who are predominantly growing up in the suburbs, and socializing with children from all sorts of different backgrounds who are attending public schools. The place that you go to get your Jewish education is the synagogue supplemental school, which becomes the dominant model for American Jewish education up until today. Benderly might reflect that it looks a lot more like the Sunday school movement of the 19th century than his vision.
Today’s model is really a religious model. And by that I mean that students go to Hebrew school primarily to kind of check a religious box, to learn about the thing that makes them distinctive religiously, and to achieve a religious coming-of-age marker, which is the bar, bat or b mitzvah. Certainly the curriculum today is more diverse, embracing more aspects of traditional Judaism then you would have seen in a 19th-century Sunday school: more Hebrew, more of a sense of Jewish peoplehood, ethnic identity and Zionism of course. But the question that American Jews are increasingly asking themselves is, is this a model that they still want? So you may have seen that the Jewish Education Project published a report recently on supplemental schools, which saw that enrollment has really, really declined.
Sunday schools are based on a vision of Judaism as a set of a religious commitments that American Jews actualize through belonging to a synagogue and sending their children to a synagogue or a religious school, where they will learn primarily a set of religious skills: the ability to read from the Torah, the ability to decode Hebrew, the ability to navigate the siddur.
Is that still the vision that most American Jews have for what Judaism means to them? I think increasingly the answer seems to be no.
How else did experience in a Hebrew school classroom influence you? Did you access anything else when you were writing the book?
I think about the number of college kids and graduate students and empty nesters who are either volunteering or earning minimum wage, working at Hebrew schools, all over the country. That’s the labor force of American Judaism. These people also bring so much to the table. There are a lot of skills, dispositions and knowledge that don’t tend to get taken very seriously because this is a workforce that just gets kind of put into the category of “oh, they’re part time.” That made me look really closely in the historical archives to see if I could find anything out about the women who are volunteering to teach in Sunday schools. And what I found out was that [many] were public school teachers. And they brought a lot to the table. It was women in fact who were really pushing to make the Sunday school curriculum more experiential and to move away from rote memorization.
As a historian formed by feminist methods, I find it really important to recognize that these women were giving over what they had, as opposed to critiquing them for not teaching in a more traditional way. I think we need to pay attention when women are being scapegoated for problems that are described as problems of Jewish continuity. It blinds us to the role that women’s volunteerism has played in American Jewish life. This whole Sunday school movement was possible only because these women volunteered their time and largely were not paid.
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The post A new book made me appreciate Jewish Sunday schools — and the volunteer women who have powered them appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Jewish families and a rabbi ask to join lawsuit to block Oklahoma Jewish charter school
(JTA) — A rabbi, a Jewish mother who invokes her family’s Holocaust history, and a Jewish teenager are among seven Oklahoma residents who have asked a federal court to let them join the fight against a proposed Jewish public charter school in their state.
The group filed a motion Wednesday in federal court in Oklahoma City seeking to intervene in the lawsuit brought by the National Ben Gamla Jewish Charter School Foundation, which is trying to become the nation’s first publicly funded religious school.
Rabbi Daniel Kaiman, the principal rabbi of Congregation B’nai Emunah in Tulsa, says he opposes the mixing of religion and government because of the potential for abuse. His own children attend a public elementary school in Tulsa.
“I am passionate about Jewish education—indeed, I have dedicated my life to it. Kaiman wrote in a declaration filed with the court. “Children in my congregation, including my own children, receive excellent, privately funded Jewish education through our synagogue and at home in accordance with our community values. But the mixing of religion and government creates opportunities for religious coercion.”
The motion was filed on behalf of the seven by the ACLU, Americans United for Separation of Church and State, the Education Law Center, the Freedom From Religion Foundation and Oklahoma Appleseed.
Ben Gamla, founded by former Florida congressman Peter Deutsch, applied last year to open a virtual K-12 school in Oklahoma where Jewish religious teachings would be woven into all subjects and employees would be required to uphold Jewish tradition in their personal lives.
The Oklahoma Statewide Charter School Board rejected the application twice, in February and March, citing a 2024 Oklahoma Supreme Court ruling that barred religious charter schools. The 2024 ruling stood following a 4-4 vote in the U.S. Supreme Court after Justice Amy Coney Barrett recused herself from the case, reportedly over ties to the Catholic plaintiff in that case.
Ben Gamla filed a federal lawsuit against the board on March 24 arguing that the ban amounts to unconstitutional religious discrimination.
Now, the group opposing the school is asking to join the case as additional defendants alongside state Attorney General Gentner Drummond, who is also against religious charter schools. Their motion argues that neither Drummond nor the charter school board can be trusted to vigorously defend the state’s secular school laws. Drummond’s term ends in January, and it is unknown whether his successor will take the same position. The board, meanwhile, hired First Liberty Institute to represent it — a conservative Christian legal group that has consistently argued that religious charter schools should be legal.
Opposition to Ben Gamla is widespread among Oklahoma Jews. The Jewish Federation of Greater Oklahoma City sent a letter to Drummond opposing the proposed school, saying religious charter schools “risk eroding the constitutional safeguards that protect both religious freedom and government neutrality toward religion.”
Eric Baxter, the attorney representing Ben Gamla and Deutsch, has dismissed local Jewish opposition.
“The Jewish Federation doesn’t speak for all Jews. They have their own perspective,” he recently told Oklahoma’s News 9. “Peter has a much more robust view of how Jews can thrive in Oklahoma and throughout the United States.”
Baxter added that he expects the court to rule in Ben Gamla’s favor based on recent Supreme Court precedents involving religious schools.
“It’s a huge stretch to say that, just because you contract with the government or receive government funding, you’re suddenly a government actor,” he said. “We’re just saying the Oklahoma Supreme Court got it wrong.”
Joining Kaiman in the group seven is Erika DuBose, a social worker for the Cherokee Nation whose grandmother fled Germany during the Holocaust. Her daughter Sydney Gebhardt, a nonbinary high school senior who serves on the steering committee of Keshet, a Jewish organization supporting LGBTQ inclusion, also joined the motion.
“I believe that the separation of church and state helps all religions, particularly minority religions,” Gebhardt wrote. “So while I am passionate about Jewish education and support religious education in general, I believe that public funds should never be used to fund religious education, no matter the religion.”
Kara Joy McKee and her husband Gene Perry, a Jewish couple raising their child in Tulsa, say they want their child to learn about Judaism in their community and not through a government-run school.
“I also doubt that Ben Gamla is authentically committed to our Jewish values,” McKee wrote, “because it seeks to weaken the separation of church and state — which has been a crucial protection for religious minorities in this country.”
Bradley Archer, an atheist social studies teacher at an Oklahoma charter school, noted that Ben Gamla’s requirement that employees “uphold the standards of the Jewish tradition in their day-to-day work and personal lives” would bar him from working there. “I would be precluded from working as a teacher at Ben Gamla, as my atheistic beliefs prevent me from advocating for, embracing, or making life decisions based on any particular set of religious values,” he wrote.
Rachel Laser, president and CEO of Americans United, said opposition to the school has been broad and consistent.
“The courts, Oklahoma public school families and taxpayers, and Jewish leaders in the state all have rejected the creation of the nation’s first religious public school,” Laser, who is Jewish, said in a statement. “We’re proud to represent Oklahomans who won’t let a religious organization backed by Christian Nationalists strong-arm the people of Oklahoma into violating the Constitution’s promises of religious freedom and church-state separation.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Jewish families and a rabbi ask to join lawsuit to block Oklahoma Jewish charter school appeared first on The Forward.
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Murderer of Couple and 9-Year-Old-Son — ‘A Badge of Honor’ for Palestinians
Hamas gunmen stand guard on the day that hostages held in Gaza since the deadly Oct. 7, 2023, attack, are handed over to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), as part of a ceasefire and hostages-prisoners swap deal between Hamas and Israel, in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, Oct. 13, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Ramadan Abed
While the world is focused on the war to dismantle the danger to all humanity from the terror state of Iran, the Palestinian Authority (PA), clearly, wants to be the new terror state in the region.
The PA’s official TV station welcomed two terrorist murderers, recently released in the Hamas extortion deal in exchange for Israeli hostages, to its weekly TV program honoring terrorists.
While some naïve observers of the PA were surprised when Palestinian Media Watch (PMW) exposed that the PA supported the Oct 7 atrocities, which included mass murder of families, it should not have been a surprise as PA policy has always been to support and glorify mass murder.
And just two weeks ago, the PA did it again.
On its weekly show to honor terrorists, official PA TV interviewed two murderers. One was serving 7 life sentences, responsible for the deaths of Rabbi Ya’akov Yosef Dikstein, his wife Chana, and their 9-year-old son Shuvel Zion, and others. The terrorists were introduced as “dear brother … We will always view you as badges of honor on the Palestinian chest.”
Since the PA continues to define mass murderers as “badges of honor,” this again confirms what PMW has been insisting. The proper action for the international community is not to grant the PA statehood, but to designate it as a terror organization:
Official PA TV host: “Our two guests will be dear brother Khalil Abu Arram ‘Abu Jihad’ [i.e., terrorist, responsible for murder of 5], who was sentenced to 7 life sentences… Also with us is our dear brother Nidal Amar [i.e., terrorist, murdered 1]. Blessings to him as well. He is a free prisoner after more than 14 (sic, 12) years. His sentence was life imprisonment … We will always view you as badges of honor on the Palestinian chest.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Giants of Endurance, March 24, 2026]
That terrorist murderers are heroes and role models for the entire society is the ideology that the PA feeds Palestinians from early childhood and through all the years in the PA education system.
A high school in Jenin planted a “Martyrs’ Garden” honoring among others arch-terrorist Abu Jihad, responsible for murdering 125, and Walid Obeidi, responsible for murdering 11. At the inauguration of the Garden of the Martyrs event, at which PA Security Forces officers were also present, a Fatah official explained the rationale behind the Martyrs’ garden: Teaching youth to desire becoming terrorist “Martyrs.” He said: “Whoever honors the Martyr walks in his path,” and also stated that terrorist “Martyrs” are “more noble and precious than all of us”:
Insan National Action Association Chairman Fida Turkeman: “In honor of Palestinian Martyrs’ Day, we inaugurated the Garden of the Martyrs of Palestine here at the Jenin Vocational School…. We are proud of these important and great figures… They sacrificed their lives for Palestine, for the Palestinian cause, for liberation, for the right of return, and for the establishment of the Palestinian state on all national lands, on the occupied Palestinian lands, 1948 and 1967 [i.e., all of Israel]…”
Member of Fatah Jenin branch Osama Bazzour: “As we always say, whoever honors the Martyr walks in his path. We came to plant an olive tree… in the name of all the Martyrs of the Palestinian revolution and our Martyrs, who are more noble and precious than all of us… We will continue to walk in their path until victory, liberation, and return, Allah willing.”
Ahmad Rashid, school principal: “We hope that this [garden] will bring glory and eternity to the Martyrs of Palestine.” [emphasis added]
Some of the same arch-terrorists were honored by Fatah and the PLO at a Palestinian Martyrs’ Day event at Al-Burj Al-Shamali refugee camp in Lebanon. At the terrorists’ memorial, a PLO official explained that “Martyrdom is the path to victory [and] freedom of Palestine”:
Text on screen: “On behalf of [PA] President [Mahmoud Abbas]: Palestinian Ambassador [in Lebanon] Dr. Muhammad Al-As’ad lays wreaths on the monument of the Martyrs of the Palestinian revolution”
Secretary of Fatah and the PLO factions in Lebanon Nasser Al-Lahham: “Many are the Martyrs of Palestine who sacrificed their lives for their freedom and our freedom, and no brave person can equal them and compete with their Martyrdom, because Martyrdom is the path to the approaching victory, which leads to the freedom of Palestine and its people.” …
In the background of the stage was a large poster featuring PA Chairman Mahmoud Abbas and former head of the Black September terror organization Salah Khalaf “Abu Iyad.”
Reporter:“At every turning point in our national cause, the last wills of the Martyrs and their sacrifice continue to serve as a roadmap towards Palestine.”
Participants in the event carried a large poster featuring terrorist Khalil Al-Wazir “Abu Jihad” who was responsible for the murder of 125 people, Salah Khalaf “Abu Iyad,” Mahmoud Abbas, and former PLO and PA Chairman Yasser Arafat.
Text on poster:“Here we remain” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV News, Jan. 7, 2026]
Earlier this year, a Fatah official also used the term “badges of honor” to describe terrorist prisoners serving long-term sentences:
Follow-up Commission for Prisoners’ Affairs Director and Fatah member Amin Shuman: “[The prisoners] merit to be a symbol for all our Palestinian people who appreciate the prisoner (i.e., terrorist) who is serving more than 20 years and even 25 years, and even the administrative detainees, the female prisoners, the children, and all the models of the prisoners’ movement inside the Israeli prisons … They are a badge of honor on the forehead of every Palestinian and Arab and every free person in this world.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Topic of the Day, Dec. 30, 2025]
So, as Israel and the US fight to destroy one terror state, the PA is actively building another beside Israel.
The author is the founder and director of Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.
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Jews in Curacao: A Remarkable History (PART ONE)
A look inside the exhibit “Longing for Freedom. The World of Anne Frank” opening at the Jewish Museum Curacao. Photo: Anne Frank House
Curacao is a small island in the Atlantic Ocean near Venezuela known for its rich Jewish history. Covering 170 square miles, it is an autonomous country within the Kingdom of the Netherlands.
Curacao may ring a bell as the place Jews escaping Lithuania named as their final destination in escaping Europe, but its Jewish roots go back much further, to when it was called the “Mother Congregation of the Americas.”
This is the story of Curacao.
Curacao was conquered by a Spanish expedition in 1499 and remained under Spanish control until 1634. At that time, the Dutch decided to capture Curaçao from Spain in response to Spain’s seizure of Saint Martin from the Dutch West India Company (WIC).
In April 1634, the WIC sent Admiral Johannes Van Walbeeck to take Curacao and Bonaire from the Spanish. These islands were important for their location near the American continent and for their role in trade and shipping,
In May 1634, Van Walbeeck departed from Holland with a fleet of four ships, 180 sailors, and 250 soldiers. To their good fortune, the Spanish had mostly abandoned Curacao, which facilitated the Dutch conquest. During this time, Curacao’s first known Jew, Samuel Cohen, arrived to serve as an interpreter for the Dutch. On August 21, the Spanish forces surrendered, and Van Walbeeck was appointed the first governor of the Netherlands Antilles.
Arrival of the First Jewish Settlers
At first, the Dutch used Curaçao as a naval base against Spain. After the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, the island lost its strategic value, so the WIC encouraged Dutch settlers to farm there. In 1651, Joao d’Yllan, a Portuguese Jew, and 12 Jewish families from Amsterdam’s Portuguese community moved to Curacao. They were promised religious freedom, land, tax breaks, exemption from guard duty on Shabbat even during war, and government protection. This was the earliest charter of its kind for Jews in the New World.
The families established a plantation called Plantation De Hoop (Plantation of Hope).
A larger group of Jewish settlers came in 1659, bringing a 14th-century Torah Scroll from the Amsterdam community. This Torah is still used today at the Mikveh Israel-Emmanuel Synagogue. Most of these settlers were refugees from the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions. After first moving to the Netherlands or Northern Brazil, they now settled in Curacao, starting a new chapter for the Jewish community there.
Farmers? Not Quite. Financiers — Absolutely!
The settlers first tried to farm, but the dry soil made it difficult. By 1660, the Jewish community moved to Willemstad and began trading between Northern Europe and South America. They found great success in this new focus.
Once trade routes connected Curacao with Northern Europe and South America, business on the island grew quickly. The Jewish community became the largest and wealthiest in the Americas. From 1670 to 1900, Jews in Curacao owned over 1,200 sailing ships, with at least 200 Jewish captains. A 1728 report said, “the lion’s share of shipping is in Curacao Jewish hands.”
Due to the risks involved in shipping, marine insurance was invented to help distribute the risk of loss of ships or cargo among the parties involved. Most of the insurance brokers were Jewish, and they eventually also became the bankers of Curacao. By the early 20th century, three commercial banks owned by Sephardic Jews were established in Curacao: Maduro’s Bank, Curiel’s Bank, and Edwards Henriquez & Co.’s Bank. (The first two merged in 1932 to form Maduro & Curiel’s Bank, which is the oldest and most extensive bank in the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba.)
An archived photo in Maduro’s bank. Photo: provided.
In another successful business, Jewish businessmen Haim Mendes Chumaceiro and Edgar Senior started Senior & Co. in 1896 to make Curaçao liqueur. It was first made for medicine but soon became a popular drink. The founders’ families still run the company, and they are the only ones who use Curacao-grown larahas in their liqueur. The product is also Star-K Kosher certified.
Interestingly, the Jews of Curacao also provided refuge and funds to Simon Bolivar, known as the “George Washington of South America” when he was fighting for freedom from Spain. As the Jews of Curacao shared his hatred for Spain, due to their experience of the Inquisition, they were eager to help him. They provided a place for Bolivar and his family and Curacao’s Jews even served in his army.
In short, over the years, the Jewish community in Curacao gained great wealth and influence, and, as we will see, they used it to strengthen their own community and support other communities throughout the Americas.
Building The Community
While still in its early years, in 1659, the Jewish community of Curacao created Haskamos, defining how the community would be governed. A key component of rulership was a Machamad (the equivalent of a board) that would govern the community for years to come.
The Machamad was a mixed blessing. They had control over all that went on within the community, and in good times, this was positive, but in times when the members of the Machamad were more concerned with their own power than the good of the community, this led to divisions and strife that would ultimately lead to the demise of the proud Curacao community.
The Haskamos of the Curacao community were patterned after those of the Portuguese Talmud Torah Kehillah in Amsterdam, from where most of them had come, and to which they would remain deeply connected. Over the coming centuries, Rabbis for Curacao would be sent from Amsterdam, and Amsterdam would continue to lead and direct the Jewish community from across the ocean.
In 1651, the community established itself as Congregation Mikveh Yisrael. By 1674, the community had grown enough in size and finances to buy its first shul building in Willemstad. In 1703, they rebuilt it with a larger structure, and in 1730, they tore it down and constructed a magnificent edifice that remains in use to this day. It was built by a master carpenter brought in from Amsterdam and was completed by Pesach of 1732. The beautiful shul is called the Snao (which means synagogue in Papiamentu, the language of Curacao). It has 50-foot-high ceilings and 18th-century copper chandeliers, and it was built to resemble the shul in the Amsterdam community from which most Jews in Curacao had come. The shul is large enough to seat 600 people. Today, it is a major tourist attraction in Curacao.
The shul is unique for its sand-covered floors. Some believe the sand is to remember the forty years the Jewish people spent in the desert. Others say it recalls God’s promise to Abraham that his descendants would be as many as the stars and the sand. Another idea is that it comes from Jews who prayed in secret during the Inquisition and used sand to quiet their footsteps and prayers.
Inside a shul with a sand-covered floor. Photo: provided,
By the late 1740’s, the Jewish community had expanded beyond Willemstad into its neighboring Otrabanda, where a new shul, Neve Shalom, was founded in 1746. Over the next few years, disagreements arose over whether Mikveh Yisroel shul should make decisions for the new community or whether Neve Shalom was now an independent community. The conflict grew to such an extent that it affected the island’s economy (indicating the Jewish community’s importance to Curaçao’s economy), and the government got involved.
In 1750, the Prince of Holland ordered the two communities to make peace. His royal order required Neve Shalom to follow the leadership of the Machamad and the board of Mikveh Yisroel, and to obey the directives of the Portuguese community in Amsterdam.
The Curacao community had many organizations that helped the poor and the sick. In fact, the community was so renowned for taking care of the needy that the Kehillah of Amsterdam would pay the travel expenses for poor members to go to Curaçao and settle there, knowing they would be well cared for. This occurred so frequently that by 1736, Governor Juan Pedro van Collen asked the West India Company to stop giving passports to poor Jews because he worried that they would become a burden to Curacao.
The Rabbis of Curacao
The Jewish community in Curaçao was deeply committed to their faith. In the 1600s, Jews there had more rights and freedoms than anywhere else in the Western world. While more rights often led to assimilation in other places, this was rare in Curacao. For the next two centuries, the community remained strong. Unlike other Jewish communities in the Americas, they made Jewish education a top priority and worked hard to give their children a strong religious foundation.
In 1674, Chacham Josiau Pardo arrived from Amsterdam to become Curacao’s first rabbi. He came from a family of rabbis, and in fact, his father had served as a judge in the Amsterdam Jewish court of law alongside the famous Rabbi Menashe ben Israel. Rabbi Pardo’s focus was on the Torah study of the community. He set up a medras (beit medrash study hall) for the children of the community.
With Chacham Pardo as leader, the community required boys to attend the medras from age five to sixteen, showing their strong commitment to Torah study. In Europe then, only wealthy or very dedicated boys continued learning after bar mitzvah, yet in Curacao attendance was mandatory. Families that did not send their sons to the medras could be fined or even forced by the government to comply.
Chacham Pardo also started the Yeshiva Eitz Chaim v’Ohel Yaakov to train teachers, Chazzanim, and those who wanted to study Torah for additional years. This was the first yeshiva-like school in the Western Hemisphere, and many of its graduates would go on to lead Jewish communities in the Americas.
In 1683, after Rabbi Pardo moved to Jamaica, there was no rabbi for the community until 1696 when Rabbi Eliau Lopez arrived in Curacao. He had previously served as the Chacham of Barbados and as the leader of the Curacao community until his passing in 1713.
Rabbi Raphael Jesurun, a student of the Eitz Chaim Yeshiva in Amsterdam, served as rabbi from 1717 to 1748. Rabbi Raphael Mendes de Sola, who had been a rabbi in Amsterdam, came to Curacao in 1744 to serve as an assistant Rabbi to Rabbi Jesurun. After his passing, he served as the Chacham until his passing in 1761.
The next rabbi was Rabbi Isaac Henriquez Farro from Amsterdam. Tragically, he passed away just a few days after arriving in Curacao in July 1762. At this point, the community persuaded Rabbi Raphael Chaim Yitzchok Karigal, who was a Torah scholar and a fundraiser for the community of Chevron, to serve as rabbi until the native Curacaon Rabbi Jacob Lopez da Fonseca would return with semicha from the Eitz Chaim Yeshiva of Amsterdam, as he was expected to become the next rabbi of Curacao. Rabbi Karigal agreed and stayed for two years. He later became a rabbi in Newport, Rhode Island, and New York City.
Rabbi Jacob Lopez da Fonseca returned to Curacao in 1764 and served as the Chacham until his passing in 1815. He was the first Chacham born in Curacao to serve the community.
Rabbi Menachem Levine is the CEO of JDBY-YTT, the largest Jewish school in the Midwest. He served as Rabbi of Congregation Am Echad in San Jose, CA, from 2007 to 2020. He is a popular speaker and writes for numerous publications on Torah, Jewish History, and Contemporary Jewish Topics. Rabbi Levine’s personal website is https://thinktorah.org A version of this article was originally published at Aish.