The recent history of Syria is a tragedy that resonates with anyone who has a connection to the land, its people and its history. For me, as a Syrian Jew, it strikes a particularly poignant chord. Syria is part of the ancestral memory of my people. It is a land that once hosted vibrant Jewish communities, where ancient synagogues echoed with prayer and study, where markets bustled with life, and where centuries of Jewish history intertwined with the cultural tapestry of Arab and Levantine society.
Yet today, war, displacement, destruction, and despair compel reflection on deeper truths about what it means to live through exile, to carry the memory of a homeland, and to find strength in resilience and adaptability.
For 20 centuries, the Jewish people have been migrants. Following the destruction of the Second Temple, we became wanderers, forced to find refuge in foreign lands. From Babylonia to Spain, Morocco to Poland, Yemen to Germany, and beyond, Jewish communities settled, flourished, and integrated. Each migration was marked by resilience, a willingness to adapt, and a commitment to preserving Jewish identity.
The Jews of Syria were no exception. They lived in harmony with their neighbours for centuries, contributing to the country’s trade, culture, and intellectual life. Yet, like so many Jewish communities throughout history, they were eventually uprooted – some by choice, others by force – in search of safety and security.
For Syrian Jews, this migration was a painful but familiar story. It echoes the experience of Jews worldwide who were displaced, yet always carried the memory of their origins with them. My family first came to the eastern shores of the United States in 1901, seeking better economic opportunity after the opening of the Suez Canal diverted major trade routes away from Aleppo, which led to a decline in commerce. But they arrived on those shores with a robust culture and tradition that they faithfully instilled in their descendants. It is only due to their strong commitment to its preservation that it continues to live within me to this day. Migration for Jews has never been simply about survival, it has been about transforming displacement into opportunity, exile into growth.
One of the most remarkable aspects of Jewish identity is its role as a repository of cultures. Wherever Jews have lived, they have absorbed the languages, customs, and traditions of their host nations. From the spices of Aleppo to the melodies of Sephardic prayer, Jewish life reflects a mosaic of influences.
In this sense, Syrian Jewry embodies a rich tradition. Aram Soba, as it is known in Hebrew, produced renown rabbis, exquisite liturgical poetry, and delectable cuisine.
As Claudia Roden wrote in her classic The Book of Jewish Food: “Aleppo was the pearl of the Jewish kitchen”. These cultural treasures, once rooted in Syria, now live on in Brooklyn, Mexico, Jerusalem and beyond.
But this repository is not just about nostalgia. It is a testament to the enduring strength of Jewish identity, an identity capable of adapting without losing itself. Like Joseph in Egypt, in every new host country, Jewish communities have contributed meaningfully to society, while cultivating their core identity.
I cannot help but reflect on what has being lost: a cultural and historical tapestry that prominently includes the Jewish presence. Yet I also know that a large part of that legacy lives on, preserved in Jewish memory and practice.
For centuries, the Jewish people lived as guests among other nations, always aware that our presence was temporary, our security fragile. The existence of the State of Israel has transformed that reality. Israel is and always has been at the centre of the Jewish soul.
But Israel’s importance extends beyond its role as a refuge. It represents the culmination of our journey as a people who have wrestled with exile and have come home stronger and wiser.
The Jewish experience teaches that exile, while painful, does not mean erasure. It shows that cultural memory can endure, that identity can adapt, and that rebuilding is possible. As Jews, we carry the memory of every land we have touched. We are a people shaped by migration, strengthened by struggle, and enriched by the cultures we have encountered.
Today, as Syria’s story unfolds, the Jewish experience stands as a beacon of hope, a testament to the possibility of renewal even after the darkest of times.
The tragic saga of Syria today compels us to reflect on our own history of resilience and adaptability. From the once vibrant life in Aleppo to the thriving communities we’ve nurtured globally, our heritage continues to thrive against the backdrop of displacement. The lessons of our past, marked by both sorrow and triumph, offer a profound perspective on the power of enduring identity and the unyielding spirit of a people.
Rabbi Dweck is the senior rabbi of the S&P Sephardi Community of the UK
