An old photograph of a Kosher Grocery in Dublin's 'Little Jerusalem' Matt Letourneau
From the city’s monastic roots to the Reformation, Dublin’s identity has been enshrouded in religion since its founding. Although one might associate the city with Catholicism or Protestantism, another religion has played an immense role in Dublin’s history and culture: Judaism. Although their population is small and their numbers are dwindling, the Jewish community has managed to be at the forefront of Dublin’s historic events. They’ve lived in the city for centuries, first stepped foot here a millennium ago and their settlement story comes straight out of an adventure novel.
Embarrassingly, I knew very little about Dublin when I first arrived here a month ago from the US. Worse, I hadn’t even considered that Dublin had ties to Judaism. But after getting lost through the streets of Dublin, exploring as many churches and cathedrals as possible, I was inspired to investigate the city’s other religious landmarks. My first inclination: why not check out a few synagogues?
The peak number of Jewish people living in the city was only around 5,000 in the early 1900s”
Starting my research, I immediately found a sea of results about the Jewish history of Dublin. Whether it was Lord Mayor Robert Briscoe, the fictional Ulysses protagonist Leopold Bloom, or the Irish-born president of Israel Dr Chaim Herzog, the vast amount of Jewish history made my jaw drop. However, I was even more shocked to discover only two active synagogues in the city. This number seemed extremely low compared to Dublin’s 197 Catholic parishes or 34 mosques and Islamic centres. But as it turns out, there are only about 2,700 Jewish people currently living in the Republic of Ireland, about 252 times less than the Catholic population. Moreover, the peak number of Jewish people living in the country was only around 5,000 in the early 1900s.
Learning these facts, I couldn’t help but wonder: how does such a prominent legacy in Dublin stem from such a small group of people? To answer this question and learn more about this community’s history and culture, I decided to take a trip to the Irish Jewish Museum.
‘Little Jerusalem’
To reach the museum, I travelled to the quaint, residential neighbourhood of Portobello. Decades ago, this area’s small red-brick houses were synonymous with Jewish life. It all started in early 1882 when the oppressive ‘May Laws’ were passed by Czar Alexander, denying hundreds of thousands of Jews in Poland, Lithuania and Latvia basic rights, such as education and jobs. Escaping injustice, many Jewish people came to Dublin. Since Portobello had affordable houses at the time, the refugees settled in. Eventually, Jewish-owned businesses began to spring up: kosher butchers, bakeries, grocers and jewellers. It didn’t take long before locals started calling this area ‘Little Jerusalem’. With a thriving Jewish community, the area also needed places of worship. Therefore, the community built four synagogues from 1885 to 1892, including one that could accommodate 150 people.
The museum is a cultural hub for Dublin’s Jews. Today, Jewish people and non-Jews alike visit it from all around the world”
Today, it’s unlikely that you’ll encounter Jewish people living in the area. In the early 1950s, following the Second World War, many in the community decided to move to Israel. As more people emigrated, businesses closed, job opportunities became scarce and, according to the Irish Jewish Museum’s Chair and Acting Treasurer, Edwin Alkin, “The community has been in decline ever since.” As the population dwindled, so did the demand for the temples. By the 1970s, with no regular attendees, the 150-person synagogue was forced to close its Torahs, cover its holy ark and shut its doors for good.
However, this was not the end of the synagogue. Those left in the community could not part with the same temple where they spent holidays growing up, prayed with their family and went to Shabbat every week. Therefore, they had no intention of selling the synagogue and left it abandoned for over a decade. Then, in the mid-1980s, a temporary exhibition was opened at the temple. Mr Alkin explained, “Asher Benson (the Ireland correspondent of the London Jewish Chronicle) was so moved by the exhibition that he wanted to make it permanent.” With assistance from the Irish-born president of Israel Dr Chaim Herzog, the Irish Jewish Museum’s ribbon was cut during Dr Herzog’s state visit to Ireland in 1985.
Although Little Jerusalem is no longer the city’s ‘Jewish quarter’, the museum is a cultural hub for Dublin’s Jews. Today, Jewish people and non-Jews alike visit it from all around the world. However, there is so much more to Dublin’s Jewish community than a single neighbourhood. As soon as I stepped into the Irish Jewish Museum, this fact became immediately evident.
The Irish Jewish Museum
An unassuming brick building from the outside, the museum’s interior is a shining treasure trove. Every wall in the small space is crowded with photographs, paintings, letters, awards, posters, newspapers, books and anything else you can think of. Large glass cases reach the ceiling, holding golden menorahs, Torah scrolls, porcelain plates, yamakas and other artefacts of Ireland’s Jewish history. Upstairs, the old synagogue stands as it did a century ago. The area is cramped but cosy, and the mahogany pews reflect golden light from the surrounding lamps. Hebrew is inscribed on the white walls and above the ark, and a vast reliquary lies in the dormant temple’s corner. In the cases, one can see centuries-old ark covers, Torah scrolls rescued from Nazi book burnings in France, a yamaka adorned with shamrocks, and many other significant antiques. Even though some of these objects came from other European countries, most are Irish and were donated by community members. When I saw them for the first time, I realised that the museum’s wares aren’t just remnants of the past. Instead, they give insight into the identity of Dublin’s current Jewish community: accounts of their ancestors, their culture, their customs and their storied history.
Though the museum offers historical insight into the Jewish community, it also shows examples of Jewish influence in Dublin’s culture. For instance, there was an entire section dedicated to Leopold Bloom, James Joyce’s fictional Jewish protagonist in Ulysses. This Jewish character holds a very significant role in Dublin and its culture, as the holiday commemorating him, Bloomsday, attracts thousands of visitors every year and is celebrated everywhere in the city. Last June, during this year’s Bloomsday, the Irish Jewish Museum welcomed dozens of visitors, all dressed in their Joycean best — donning straw top hats, period-accurate suits and wooden canes.
Dr Herzog and Mr Briscoe left their mark on Dublin and the rest of the world, influencing Dublin’s history and identity”
Furthermore, the museum honours two other Jewish people who are embedded in Dublin’s culture and history, Lord Mayor Robert Briscoe and former Irish-born president of Israel Dr Chaim Herzog. Mr Briscoe was elected Dublin’s first Jewish mayor in 1956 and again in 1961. However, he first gained his fame during the War of Independence, as he was one of the IRA’s most successful gunrunners. As it turns out, Mr Briscoe’s son Ben Briscoe lived up to his father’s legacy, becoming Dublin’s second Jewish mayor in 1988.
Another famous Jewish Dubliner, Dr Chaim Herzog, was Israel’s sixth president, serving between 1983 and 1993. Born in Belfast, Dr Herzog spent most of his adolescent years in Dublin where his father became the Chief Rabbi of Ireland. Although he left in his teenage years after attending Wesley College, Dr Herzog’s legacy lives on in Ireland, as he wrote many books recording Irish military history. Moreover, Dublin’s Herzog Park in Rathgar Village is named in his honour. Both Dr Herzog and Mr Briscoe left their mark on Dublin and the rest of the world, influencing Dublin’s history and identity through their successful careers. Although this further illustrates the influence of Dublin’s Jewish community, it still didn’t answer my question. Therefore, to understand how members of a small religious community can have immense effects on a city, I needed to get a broader sense of Dublin’s Jewish heritage.
A tale of two temples
Surrounded by relics, I sat waiting at a foldable table pitched in the middle of the Irish Jewish Museum’s main exhibit, as I didn’t want to interrupt a tour group in the synagogue upstairs. Across from me sat David Phillips, the museum’s archivist and photographer. As I scanned the room overflowing with artefacts, we struck up a conversation that would teach me so much about Dublin’s Jewish community. “There are two synagogues, the orthodox synagogue and the progressive synagogue,” Mr Phillips explained, “I’m part of the progressive synagogue. Orthodox Jews are different in practice, but we all believe in the same, basic stuff.” Even though they have their differences, the two synagogues are like siblings. In either temple, congregation members are very close-knit, but there is still a feeling of support and love for their fellow Jews in the synagogue they aren’t a part of. Surprisingly, having such a small population may have made Dublin’s Jewish community closer than it would have been otherwise.
For a big city, having only two synagogues can create a diverse group of beliefs under the same roof. According to Mr Phillips, people have many different levels of ‘secularness’ in Dublin’s Jewish community. “There are various shades of practice,” Mr Phillips said, “Some only go to morning prayer, others pray three times a day.” One may think this could cause rifts in the community, but this isn’t the case. “One can feel an identification with Judaism without going through religious practices all the time,” he elucidated, “Judaism has a spiritual, cultural and heritage element. I think you can have culture and heritage without spirituality.” Jewish people in Dublin are bonded by their shared, niche heritage and culture. Spirituality only plays a partial role in it.
These schools have a Jewish cultural ethos that one can’t experience at regular school”
This can be seen in Dublin’s Jewish schools, which have recently had an influx in enrollment due to Israeli immigrants. According to Mr Phillips, “Ireland has become one of the leaders in high-tech industries, like Google, Intel and others, and quite a lot of Israelis came to work here.” Mr Alkin explained that many of the Israeli people coming to Dublin are somewhat secular, but they still want to send their children to Jewish schools regardless of the spiritual aspect. This is because these schools have a Jewish cultural ethos that one can’t experience at regular school. From what I can gather, if you have Jewish heritage, follow its culture and practice its spiritual beliefs (you don’t have to do all three), Dublin’s small community will embrace and support you.
What makes Dublin’s Jewish community different
The Jewish Community’s profound impact on this city stems from the three elements of Judaism Mr Phillips spoke of: heritage, culture and spirituality.
In terms of heritage, the first recorded Jews in Ireland arrived in 1066 from the Netherlands for trade. For hundreds of years, Jewish people had fled their lands — whether it was Spain in 1492 or Lithuania, Latvia or Poland in 1882 — to seek safety in Ireland. Over centuries, they established trade routes from Amsterdam, Portugal, Spain and other countries. Moreover, they held positions of power and influence in Ireland since 1555 when William Annyas a Portuguese Jewish became Mayor of Youghal in Co. Cork. In Dublin, Jews have been politicians, legendary characters and businessmen. If all of that isn’t heritage, I don’t know what is.
The Jewish community’s stories are told through the artefacts in the Irish Jewish Museum, highlighting both the highs and lows of Jewish Irish history. They are told through the plaques of Leopold Bloom, through Herzog Park, through the city’s two synagogues, through prayers and Torah readings. The Dublin Jewish community may be small, but this allows them to stick together, to support each other, to be a family. Dublin has been and will always be a religious city. But more than just Christianity has shaped it.