 
 
CHRISTMAS
IN OAXACA
  
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WHERE'D MY PEOPLE GO?
Passover in Oaxaca
The crowded downtown streets are lined with Oaxacans buying tiny crosses made of straw showing the crucifixion of Jesus. It's Holy Thursday, and tonight devout Christians stroll by seven major churches in an informal procession, honoring God while chatting about their neighbors, their houses, cars and children. They'll enjoy tamales. They'll buy balloons. Like most other holidays in this town, this one is about religion, community and a good time.
Coincidentally, this fiesta, one of several in the days between the beginning of Lent and Easter, also marks the first day of Passover, the Jewish holiday that relates the events of Exodus and the Jews' escape from slavery in Egypt.
Look down Macedonia Alcalá, however, and there's not a Jew to be found; you won't find groups of old, bearded men enjoying a kosher dog on a poppy seed bun or grandmothers kvetching about prices in the market.
Listen, not so surprising, considering Mexico has a 94% Christian population.
Still, the lack of any discernible Jewish community, tonight or any night, makes a Jew wonder and cry out, "Where'd my people go?"
Jews have been here in Mexico since Columbus first dropped by. First, in the form of the New Christians or Marranos and then there were folks who converted to Christianity when forced by the Spanish Inquisition. Secretly, they remained Jewish, keeping kosher, observing the Sabbath and, most importantly, patiently believing the Messiah was yet to arrive, despite the wide spread belief to the contrary.
The New World, however, brought its Old Problems, as the Inquisition followed the Jews here. In 1520, a Spanish soldier was executed for practicing Judaism; after fifty years of progress, 80 people were burned at the stake for the same offense. At the same time, Conquistador Luis de Caravajal became governor of a northern district near Monterrey and was able to bring 100 friends and relatives over from Spain, unaware that some were Jewish. Soon after, he was accused of Practicing but was later absolved.
The rest of the community remained hidden for 300 years, some spreading their religion to the Indians who also had things to hide. When Mexico declared its independence from Spain ( 1810 ), the Jews finally practiced somewhat freely. A hundred plus years later ( 1925 ), the first synagogue was built in Mexico City.
Today, Jews make up one tenth of one percent ( 0.1% ) of the Mexican population, and most of them live in the Polanco district in Mexico City. It's an exclusive community, financially ( with its Armani, Gucci and Italian furniture boutiques ) and socially ( even Israeli Jews have had a hard time fitting in ). Mexican Jews are understandably closed off - given years of persecution. And perhaps they're just tired of the weird looks from outsiders. They're a novelty, even unto themselves.
In Oaxaca, the Jews are even more underground.
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There's no synagogue but there's a bit of a Jewish community in Tule and Viguera, a Oaxacan suburb. One woman has a list of contacts, so someone's trying to keep things organized. But, if you ask the town's wizened know-it-alls, they come up with "Um, the guy who works at the store near the zocalo. He's Jewish." ( And in fact he is, and directed me to four other families, some Oaxacan, some expatriates. )
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Better proof of community can be found at the Shalom bookstore in the Plaza del Valle mall, three miles outside town. A librería for all religions, the shop sells menorahs, books on Jewish history and the Torah translated into Spanish. According to the store owner, Sabbath supplies are quite popular, even among local Indians, who practice a mutated form of Judaism.
But before I head into the jungle to continue this search for my roots, I decided to plant some in downtown Oaxaca, joining a Passover dinner the night before Holy Thursday. Invited were six Jewish Mexican friends, a Columbian Jew and an Israeli working in Oaxaca for the year.
The Mexicans felt right at home, intrigued by the Haggadah ( the story of Exodus ) and fun games ( like finding the Matzo ). We served a traditional meal; brisket, Matzo ball soup and a Seder plate with kosher items from Polanco. After a few jokes, most involving those wacky little beanies, we realized that a larger Jewish community would fit right in in this city, if only they'd come.
"It's a party," said my Oaxacan host, sipping Manischewitz wine. "We Mexicans love a party."
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