A Refutation of the Expulsion

Tamara Jacobs, Prozdor Grade 12

I admired the dramatic view of the Spanish countryside from the elaborate stone patio, perched high in the Alhambra palace. It was December of 2005, but at that moment, I felt as if I were looking out over a medieval Andalusian landscape. The Alhambra, built by Muslim royalty in the 14 th century, is truly an architectural masterpiece. Although it was built after the Golden Age in Spain, the Alhambra reflects the flourishing of art and culture under Muslim rule. I was there on a tour with my Hebrew school to study Jewish history during the Golden Age. I hugged my sweater close to me, trying to shield myself from the drizzling rain that shrouded the palace with mysterious beauty.

"Everyone, let's sit in a circle," called out the group leader. His voice brought me back to the 21st century. "Open your booklets to the page titled, 'Edict of Expulsion of the Jews.'"

At the time the Alhambra was built, Spain consisted of independent regions, the southernmost one ruled by the Muslim empire. During the Golden Age, Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together in relative harmony. Jews were fifteen percent of the population and contributed actively to society. Philosophy and the arts flourished along with the sciences. But after wresting control of these independent regions, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella united their country under one religion. In 1492, Queen Isabella stood within the stone walls of the Alhambra and signed an edict expelling the Jews from Spain.

When these three ethnic groups were able to work together, I thought to myself, so much was accomplished. While the rest of Europe was in the Middle Ages, Andalusia was vibrant. How tragic is was that the only way Spain was able to unify was through the oppression of the Jews and the Muslims, both who had previously contributed so much to make the Iberian peninsula the intellectual and economic center of Western civilization.

There, in the mist, we somberly read the words of hatred calling for the permanent expulsion of the Jewish people from their home. My heart became lodged in my throat as I thought of the horrible crimes against humanity that people in power have imposed upon those who are weaker. Every culture, no matter how enlightened it may be at one point in history, seems to digress down the road of cruelty.

"Look! It's a rainbow," someone called out. I stood, turned around, and gasped with amazement at the enormous, perfect arc. Its vivid, distinct colors shone boldly over the ancient turrets and romantic olive trees and pines. Somewhere behind me, I heard a fellow student recite a prayer in Hebrew over the rainbow. I was reminded that in the Bible, God sent a rainbow to Noah after the Great Flood as a symbol of his promise to never destroy the world again. In the midst of a tragedy, the rainbow is a sign that hope will always shine through, that in the end people who work toward justice will successfully restore peace.

Andalusia, during the Golden Age, flourished because it tolerated diversity. When it was first united, Spain may have been an intimidating force in the world, but it was not long before it became bankrupt and one of the weaker European countries. Had oppression backfired?

Five hundred years after the Edict of Expulsion was enacted, I stood in the Alhambra with that rainbow in front of me. My presence there was a refutation of the Expulsion. I was optimistic that somehow, mankind will continue to work toward justice and tolerance. I am inspired to be a part of this challenge.