One of the reasons I chose to study abroad in Argentina was the large Jewish population. I knew I wanted to go somewhere that spoke Spanish, so I thought that a country that had the flavor of both would be a good fit for me. We also have family, the Zvaigs, who live here; when the Zweigs left the old country—generally defined in the family lore as Lithuania—some went to the United States and some came to Argentina. This seemed like a great opportunity to connect with my family too.
Even though Buenos Aires has a large Jewish population, it’s still not the easiest country to practice Judaism. There is the only Kosher McDonald’s outside of Israel, but if you want a Big Mac, all you have to do is walk across the food court to the regular McDonald’s. I have been desperately searching for weeks for sliced turkey and have been unsuccessful—all I see is ham, ham, and more ham.
Getting into any kind of Jewish place is also a challenge. I have passed by temples and synagogues with very high security, which is a response to the 1994 bombing of the Argentine Israelite Mutual Association, which killed 85 people and injured many others. The Argentine government had problems with the investigation, and the bombers allegedly have ties to Iran and Hezbollah; the government only this year created a Truth Commission to investigate what happened.
So after several weeks in the country, I knew it was time to start looking for a place to celebrate the High Holidays since my cousins were going to be out of town. I asked the other Jewish students on my program, my host, and others for ideas. Finally, I got some suggestions from Rabbi Cattapan and began the process of trying to acquire a ticket. Due to my busy schedule (unavailable many days during normal business hours) and not starting the process soon enough, I was running around the city the Wednesday of Rosh Hashanah with nowhere to go. As it turned out, I had an unusual experience that worked out very well.
I ended up attending virtual temple for Rosh Hashanah evening—I set up the live stream from an Argentine congregation and watched from my living room. The service started 45 minutes late, but the music and the order of the service were exactly the same as at Achduth Vesholom. They had a small choir, and a female rabbi led the service and gave the sermon. The Spanish was pretty easy to follow and I liked and, more importantly, understood the sermon, though I am not used to hearing Spanish and Hebrew mixed together. One of the perks of attending services from home is that you can snack during the service—for an Argentine take on the traditional Rosh Hashanah snack, I had apples and dulce de leche.
For Yom Kippur, I had a more traditional worship experience. My cousins invited me to go to Kol Nidre with them. We did not attend their usual congregation, but instead went to their kids’ Jewish day school outside of the city of Buenos Aires. There was a lot of security around the school.
Normally, I feel like Yom Kippur is a somber and solemn occasion—yet this was not the case in Argentina. They had a Friday Night Live-style band, and everyone was singing along with the choir. Since the service was at a school, there were lots of young people, and even activities outside of the service for the younger kids. Everything was much more upbeat and very happy. Argentine culture is also very friendly and affectionate, so I was not particularly surprised to be kissed by at least a dozen people wishing me a happy Yom Kippur. We even got a Ba-al Shem Tov story just like at GUCI (Goldman Union Camp Institute), so I felt right at home.
Having begun the year with distinct holiday experiences, I’m excited to learn and explore more Judaism in Buenos Aires.
A version of this post ran in the October issue of the Congregation Achduth Vesholom bulletin in Fort Wayne, Indiana.