Syrian Jews return to Damascus for the first time in decades, hoping to build bridges

DAMASCUS — If there is a verbal expression of heartache, Rabbi Yusuf Hamra uttered it as he stepped inside the Faranj synagogue in the Syrian capital last week. It was the last place he had said prayers before leaving Syria 33 years ago in a wave of emigration by Syria’s Jews.

“Ach, ach, ach,” said the 77-year-old, dressed in a white shirt and black suit as he stepped gingerly into what had been a center of the Syrian capital’s once-thriving Jewish community.

Built more than 500 years ago by Jews who fled the terrors of the Spanish Inquisition, the synagogue was renovated in the 1960s. Dusty blue velvet benches were piled against walls with peeling paint. A pile of prayer books — some 300 years old — lay moldering under a cream-colored prayer shawl.

“I remember my father, the last day before we left here, he was praying,” said his son Henry Hamra, a cantor. “He was crying when he was praying the last prayer over here.”

The prayers Rabbi Hamra said last week were the first since the synagogue closed in the 1990s, after almost the entire Syrian Jewish population of more than 30,000 left. The Hamra family emigrated to the U.S. and settled in Brooklyn.

“It was very hard,” said the rabbi. “For children, they can learn to live anywhere. But this was my home for 45 years.”

Hamra’s visit this month was historic. A small delegation of Jewish religious officials and a former U.S. diplomat were invited by the new Syrian government, as it tries to include those it believes can help to rebuild the country after decades of regime rule fell last December.

Almost all of Syria’s Jews left in a two-year period starting in 1992, when then-President Hafez al-Assad allowed them to emigrate. Now members of the country’s dwindling Jewish community say only seven individuals are left from what had been a thriving community for thousands of years.

Henry Hamra, 46, pointed out a Spanish Jewish feature of one of the synagogues — a women’s section on the second floor, accessible through a separate outside staircase. It’s a legacy of the Jewish exodus to the Arab world, when they were expelled from Spain in the late 15th century during its campaign against those it considered heretics.

Last week’s visit was organized by Syrian American activist Mouaz Moustafa, founder of the Syrian Emergency Task Force. The aim was to pave the way for Syrian Jews to return — and to press the United States to lift sanctions it imposed on the former regime of Bashar al-Assad, toppled in December.

“You know, there’s a big Jewish influence on the new [U.S.] administration,” said Rabbi Asher Lopatin, laughing. “If the Syrian Jews have some connections — and they do — they will have a voice in the administration, and I think it will resonate.”

Lopatin, from Detroit, is not of Syrian origin, but says he came in solidarity with Rabbi Hamra. Advised by Moustafa to wear ball caps over their kippahs — traditional Jewish head coverings — for security reasons, Lopatin covered his with a Detroit Pistons basketball cap.

“This is unbelievable, to be in Damascus as a Jew and invited by the government,” said Lopatin. “I hope America takes this opportunity of supporting this government and sending love to this government.”

Moustafa said the visit was controversial among some U.S. officials and even in the Syrian Jewish community, where many view with concern the roots of Syria’s interim leader.

President Ahmed al-Sharaa is a former member of the militant group al-Qaida, which carried out the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. He has renounced that group’s ideology and made clear that Syrians of all faiths are to be an integral part of the country. The U.S. and European countries, however, have been slow to lift devastating trade sanctions imposed on Syria during the al-Assad regime.

The delegation refrained from commenting on Israel during its four-day visit to Syria, and the Syrian government refrained from asking them.

“This is purely about Syria,” said Moustafa.

The delegation’s first stop after flying into Damascus last Monday was the Jewish cemetery — partially destroyed after the government built a highway through it in the 1960s.

Rabbi Hamra said prayers at his father’s grave and then walked slowly among the tombstones, reading the Hebrew inscriptions in search of his grandfather’s tomb.

“I can’t find him,” he said. “I’ve looked and looked. It’s been 34 years — I need time to remember.”

In a small concrete shrine, a prominent grave remains intact — that of an influential figure in Kabbalah, a type of Jewish mysticism. The grave of Ḥayyim ben Joseph Vital, a 17th century rabbi who disseminated the principles of Kabbalah around the world, is some 400 years old.

“You know, if the doors are open, I know a lot of people will come here just to see the rabbi,” said Henry Hamra. “I promise, they would love to come here.”

Even after more than 30 years in Brooklyn, Rabbi Hamra seems thoroughly Syrian. He is more comfortable speaking Arabic than English. His son calls him “baba” — Arabic for dad.

Asked how he feels coming back, the rabbi utters the exact words almost every other Syrian says on finally being able to return: “Is there anything more beautiful than your home?”

The ball caps turn out not to be needed as a security precaution. The Syrian government has sent lightly armed fighters, who pose for photos with the rabbis, to accompany the delegation.

In the winding, narrow streets of the capital’s old Jewish quarter, almost everyone is openly welcoming. Former neighbors from three decades ago stop Rabbi Hamra to ask about members of his family. Many of them are Palestinian, descendants of those who became refugees after the creation of Israel in 1948.

There are 22 synagogues left in Syria, all closed. The delegation visited half a dozen of them.

In one, Rabbi Hamra reverently held a prayer book he himself had copied out long ago, and in accordance with Syrian law at the time, had taken to the information ministry for approval to print.

In the courtyard of another synagogue, he inhaled the scent of a lemon just plucked from a tree and pointed out a large citrus fruit known as kabbad, used for making sweets he has not seen or tasted in more than 30 years.

“The scent of Damascus was orange blossoms and jasmine,” said his son Henry.

The Syrian president sent a key advisor, Moussa al-Omar, to join the delegation on a tour of a destroyed synagogue in the Damascus suburb of Jobar. Along with mosques and churches, it was reduced to rubble by Syrian regime forces during the country’s civil war.

Henry Hamra said his community would press Israel to return priceless Jewish texts that were taken there from Syria during previous decades, including by alleged looters during Syria’s civil war.

In a meeting in the courtyard of Syria’s national museum, where antiquities officials have jurisdiction over heritage sites, al-Amr assured the visiting delegation that Syrian authorities would help any citizens who wanted to return.

“Everyone who has a right to his land will have it returned to his family,” he said. He added that the Syrian government would also help restore Syrian citizenship to former citizens. “Now what we want from you is that you raise the issue of sanctions on Syria.”

The delegation had hoped to be able to get together 10 Jewish men for a minyan, a quorum to be able to hold prayers in one of the synagogues.

They were close — they needed only five other Jewish men apart from the delegation. But in the end, two of the surviving Jewish residents of the city did not attend. Two other young Syrian Jews who had arrived from the U.S. after the delegation landed were unreachable. And two others whose mothers were Jewish were deemed unacceptable by Rabbi Hamra because they did not practice the faith.

Still, said Lopatin, “This is a miracle to be able to be here, and hopefully bigger crowds can come. Now we have something to pray for. All of Syria is about proof that things can miraculously change.”

Asked what he hopes for from this visit, Rabbi Hamra said he wants Syrian Jews to be able to come back and live in the homes they left here, if they want to.

“A normal, comfortable life. I wish this for everyone,” he says. “They can make up for the days they lost.”

Sangar Khaleel contributed reporting from Damascus.