Josef García’s maternal grandmother would light two candles every Friday and then move her hands around in a circle, saying words in a mysterious language. When someone died, he said she would cover all the mirrors with black cloth.
When he asked her about these traditions, she would say they were “very old family traditions taught to her by her grandmother.”
“In 1982,” García said, “my elderly great uncle told me the reason I was uncomfortable in Christianity was because we were Jews. Suddenly, it made sense to me, my mother shouting about the filth and toxicity of pork and the other family customs. My father cried when we celebrated Erev Shabbat (Friday evening religious services) in my home. It was the first time he had done so since his mother’s death.”
Modern-day descendents of New Mexican crypto- Jews, such as García, are the subjects of an exhibition by late artist Cary Herz titled “Remnants of a Hidden Past: Photographs and Essays on New Mexico’s Crypto- Jews,” which opened with a reception Thursday (Nov. 5), 5:30-7 p.m., at La Hacienda de Los Martínez, 708 Hacienda Rd. in Lower Ranchitos. The term “crypto-Jew” can refer to anyone who practices Judaism in secret, for fear of discrimination or persecution — but, it can also refer to their descendants.
To explain how a number of Sephardic crypto-Jews ended up in New Mexico requires a brief step back in time. Jewish persecution, frequently flaring up throughout Europe since the first Crusade in 1095, infested Spain in 1492. At this time, Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand ordered the expulsion of the Jews, saying they had to either convert to Catholicism, leave the country, or face torture, imprisonment or execution.
Some fled to the New World with the conquistadores. Mexico City in particular received such a high influx of Jewish immigrants that in 1571 a tribunal of the Spanish Inquisition was established there, which also administered brutal punishments for practicing any religion other than Catholicism. Jews migrated further north, some as far as what is now New Mexico.
Although a portion of these Jews who had converted to Catholicism fully renounced their Jewish identities, others converted but continued to practice Judaism in secret and thereby became Sephardic crypto-Jews of New Mexico.
Herz (1947-2008) was photographing the Jewish cemetery in Las Vegas, N.M. in 1985 when she heard whispers of, “What about the others?” The cemetery contained the remains of Eastern European Jews who immigrated in the late 19th and early 20th centuries but was missing those of the Sephardic crypto-Jews that had resided in New Mexico for centuries.
The term “Sephardic” refers to persons of Spanish, Portuguese or North African descent. This day marked the start of her 20-year “odyssey” into this hidden — and now emerging — culture. Many of her images were shot in New Mexico but some were taken as far away as Portugal, where she journeyed with some of the crypto-Jewish descendants. Herz is the child of two Holocaust refugees and her deep personal connection to this subject seems to vibrate through her images.
Gerald González is depicted in Portugal, surrounded by aging stone walls. “Sitting on the steps of an Inquisition jail in Monsaraz, Portugal, led me to think of ... the perils and journeys across the globe that my Jewish ancestors undertook to protect themselves and their faith.
“In 2007 I identify myself as a Hispanic New Mexican who is culturally Catholic, but who also has a deep awareness of and sensitivity to my Jewish roots, embracing them as part of who I am,” González says in the book. “Accepting the complexity of my family history (including the French and Italian branches along with my Jewish origins) has led me to seek a wider understanding of our relatedness as God’s creations.”
Alongside each of Herz’ portraits will be brief biographical statements offering a glimpse of the range of experiences subjects have had in integrating their ancestry. Statements are excerpted from Herz’ book, “New Mexico’s Crypto-Jews, Image and Memory,” created in collaboration with Ori Z. Soltes and Mona Hernández.
Some descendants, like González, openly accept their Jewish heritage but choose not to practice the religion. One chooses to practice both Catholicism and Judaism. A few, some of whom have only recently discovered their Jewish ancestry, feel that they’ve come home. Lorenzo Domínguez stands with his elderly mother, Felima, beside the Río Grande in Albuquerque. He wears a tallit, a shawl with about 600 tassels, each a reminder of one of God’s commandments; she drapes her grandmother’s black shawl around her.
They both look directly into the camera with soft eyes. Felima is a devout Catholic who acknowledges her Jewish heritage that dates back to 16th century ancestor Lucas Vixil.
“From the time he was young my son has always felt that he was Jewish. I have a daughter who feels the same way. For me, as long as they, my children, pray to God, as long as you live your life in a good way, that is all that matters,” she says.
Herz was also intrigued by crypto- Jews’ gravestones that were adorned with Jewish symbols, sometimes hidden, sometimes not. Jewish stars are sometimes engraved alongside or inside crosses, or above the heads of angels. Some of the imagery, Herz writes in her book, has not yet been studied by material culture academics.
These photos raise interesting questions about why crypto-Jews would choose to leave a permanent, public marking of Judaism traceable to their families when they had gone to such lengths to keep their faith a secret. The gravestones that combine Jewish and Christian imagery can also be seen from an artistic perspective, as representations of religion as a unifying force rather than the divisive one that history has sometimes proven it to be.
Part 2 in the series will delve more deeply into the complex range of issues faced by this population, drawing on material from “A Light In My Soul/Una Luz En Mi Alma,” a play based on interviews with New Mexican Crypto-Jews and descendants. Performances will be Nov. 13-14 at the Taos Community Auditorium. For more information, call (575) 758-0505 or visit www.taoshistoricmuseums. org. Herz’ book also contains an extensive bibliography of works on this subject.
Lorenzo Domínguez (Levi Ben Macario) and mother by the Río Grande, Albuquerque, 1999. Photo by Cary Herz
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