Jerusalem of the West


The city of Toledo was one of the jewels of medieval Spain. Though it achieved its greatest prominence under Catholic monarchs, its true allegiance was to the legacy of Al-Andalus, the Umayyad caliphate that presided over Spain's first golden age. Among the greatest legacies of Islamic rule here was the love of classical Greek and Roman texts, a love that developed in the 12th century into the Escuela de Traductores de Toledo—a translation project responsible for providing Europe with a canon long known only in Baghdad. But since the texts in question were preserved in Arabic—or Hebrew, for sacred texts—their translation into Latin required the cooperation of Muslims, Christians, and Jews (known for their multilinguism). The success of the Escuela was therefore predicated on a still greater legacy of Islamic rule: a plural and open religious culture.

Though the Qur'an seeks to correct the ways that Jews and Christians have corrupted God's word, it also accords them special status as fellow "peoples of the book"—sharers in the covenant of Abraham. When the Umayyads invaded Spain, they therefore designated its Jews and Christians—who had lived there since the second century AD—as dhimmi, or protected peoples (pagans were forced to convert). Christians and Jews were not merely "tolerated"—a word which implies abiding a gross inconvenience; they were in fact full members of an integrated community. This integration became obvious in the blended Mudéjar architectural style which quickly became the model for churches, mosques, and synagogues alike.

The Synagogue of Santa Maria la Blanca, remembered by the name it was given when converted into a church. Built in Mudéjar style in the 14th century; Toledo, Spain.

This is the pretext for understanding Toledo's extensive Jewish quarter, or Judería—once the home of five Talmud schools, ten synagogues, and a thriving population of craftspeople, civil servants, traders, and philosophers—not to mention translators. The caliph Abd al-Rahman III even appointed a Jew as his Grand Vizier. But the Jewish prominence in Toledo did not diminsh with the introduction of Christian rule in the 11th century. Though often cited as a crucial step in the "Reconquista," the transfer of power in Toledo has almost no similarity to the mass pogrom of which Ferdinand and Isabella's Reino Católico was the crowning achievement. Rather, it was during this early period of Christian rule, from the 11th–14th centuries, that Toledo acquired its nickname: "Jerusalem of the West."

Much has changed since then. The Jewish quarter—where I'm currently staying—is devoid of Jews now; in fact, in all of Toledo, there are no operational synagogues (or Kosher markets, for that matter). Of the ten synagogues that once stood in the Judería, two were converted to churches; the remaining eight were bulldozed. In their place, Ferdinand and Isabella erected what is now the quarter's most significant landmark—the Monasterio de San Juan de los Reyes, a massive and imposing gothic basilica complex. This building is exactly as Jewish as the Jewish quarter in which it stands.

San Juan de los Reyes.

Quite recently, though, Toledo has attempted to reverse some of the erasure of Jewishness in the Judería. The two surviving synagogues have been converted to museums—one houses the Sephardic Museum, which purports to tell the story of Judaism in Spain. The quarter is also now scattered with blue and white commemorative tiles, which are so concentrated in some places that it's reminiscent of somebody advertising an event by tacking twenty posters on a single bulletin board. And somewhat bizarrely, the city of Toledo has decided that, at night, the words "Jewish Quarter" should be projected onto the streets in the area, accompanied by suitably Jewish iconography (see above).

One of the tiles of the Jewish quarter.

But of course, it is not so easy to re-inscribe meaning of this kind into a place that has long forgotten it. Apart from the name "Judería," little remains of the Jewish past of Toledo; even the two synagogues are still both referred to by names commemorating the Virgin Mary. And while we're on the subject, I have to say that the Sephardic Museum speaks of Judaism from a position of both orientalization and apparent ignorance. It seems curated for an audience not only with no knowledge of the religion, but that apparently may never have considered Judaism a religion at all. The whole museum begins with the question, "What is a synagogue?" and then progresses through a series of lessons on Judaism—including the contention that "Religion is the most significant identifying feature of the Jewish people" (?), that the Hebrew Bible "cannot be considered history," that "the Tanakh reached its final interpretation" when the Jews were captive in Babylon, and that "their adherence to the Jewish faith moves much of their daily life, their customs and celebrations." In short, the museum covers a spectrum from questionable to wrong, all with the tone of a conquistador describing the customs of "natives" and surprised to find points of similarity. 

The point: despite its somewhat scattered efforts—restoration, museum-making, and nighttime projections—Toledo's effort to remember its multi-confessional self hasn't been that successful—especially when you consider that all the tourist shops in the Judería are selling medieval armor: you know, the kind that they used in the Reconquista...

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