Four synagogues, a mikvah, a kosher coffeehouse and separate religious high schools for boys and girls.
Combined, they suggest a community far larger than just 700 Jews. But Gibraltar — the tiny British overseas territory of 30,000 that sits at the foot of Spain and at the gateway to North Africa and the Mediterranean — has spent centuries cultivating its individuality.
“We’ve got an infrastructure that could cope with a community of 2,000, and we’ve only got 700,” said Mark Benady, a native Gibraltarian and vice president of the territory’s Jewish community.
Gibraltar’s largely Orthodox and Sephardic Jewish community has grown substantially in the past decade, increasing its rolls by 25 percent in just the last three years. The Jewish elementary school has a record 140 students. Along the way, the community has become more religiously observant and, many say, more insular.
About 500 Israelis also live in Gibraltar, but they are largely unaffiliated with the official organs of the territory’s Jewish community.
Fueling the growth in part are soft loans of $15,500, repayable over 15 years, that were issued by the community to attract newcomers, who arrive mainly from England and Spain. Many, like Jo Jacobs Abergel, who moved from Leicester, England, are married to native Gibraltarians. Now a mother of three, Abergel says she’s somewhat of an anomaly among Gibraltar’s Jewish women.
“I’m kind of a heathen because I wear trousers and I don’t cover my hair,” she said.
Jews have lived in Gibraltar since at least 1356. For more than 200 years, beginning with the expulsion of Jews from the Iberian Peninsula in 1492, there was no Jewish life. That changed in 1713 when Britain took control of the territory affectionately dubbed “Gib” or “the Rock.”
In the centuries since, Jews have occupied major political positions. In 2008-2009, the largely ceremonial post of mayor was occupied by Solomon Levy. Still, some say the walls between Jew and non-Jew in Gibraltar have grown taller.
“There are Jews here that have absolutely no contact with non-Jews,” Abergel said. “They won’t send them to anything — swimming lessons, ballet, judo, etc. — if it’s not organized by the Jewish community.”
That wasn’t always the case. As a student, Benady attended a non-Jewish school and had many non-Jewish friends, but that’s less common for young Jewish Gibraltarians today.
Gibraltar’s Jews, like the territory itself, straddle two worlds. The territory’s border with Spain was closed in 1967 by dictator Francisco Franco following a referendum indicating that Gibraltarians overwhelmingly wished to remain British. The border didn’t reopen fully until 1985.
As a British territory, English is the official language, the queen is head of state and the Gibraltar pound — pegged to its British equivalent — is the official currency. But the Spanish influence remains strong. Many Spaniards cross over each day to work, and native Gibraltarians speak their own language, Llanito, a blend of English and Spanish with a sprinkling of Hebrew.
Idan Greenberg, an Israeli who moved to Gibraltar with his wife 31⁄2 years ago, runs the Verdi Verdi kosher coffeehouse on Casemates Square, an open-air plaza dotted with boutiques, cafés and pubs. Greenberg wants his restaurant to appeal broadly to Gibraltarians, but at the same time he laments the insularity he associates with the Jewish community’s increasing piety.
According to Benady, the isolation is a concern even among the island’s non-Jewish population. But a careful line must be drawn between assimilation and isolation, he said.
“I think we’ve managed to draw the line in a comfortable place.”