MOROCCAN MESORAH IN AMERICA CONGREGATION NETIVOT YISRAEL

Matis Glenn

Torah luminaries the stature of the Rif, Ri Migash, Rambam, the Ohr Hachaim and the Baba Sali, all at one point lived and taught in Morocco. The North African country, formerly a French colony and predominantly Arab Muslim, is home to one of the oldest, if not the oldest, Diaspora Jewish communities in the world. Moroccan Jews have a tradition that they have lived there since Bayis Rishon.

The Moroccan community differs from most other Sephardim in their minhagim and piskei halachah, frequently following the opinion of Rabbeinu Asher, the Rosh, together with their own ancient customs.

Rabbi Gad Bouskila, born and raised in Morocco, saw a need to form a cohesive Moroccan congregation in New York, after discovering many families at risk of losing their heritage. He came to New York 43 years ago after having learned in Otzar HaTorah–Neve Shalom schools in Morocco and yeshivos in France. In America, he learned in the Mirrer Yeshiva and Beth Medrash Govoha.

He leads Congregation Netivot Yisrael, the first completely Moroccan shul in America. A pioneer and guardian of Moroccan mesorah, communities far and wide reach out to him for guidance and p’sak halachah, in the unique tradition of Moroccan Rabbanim.

Rabbi Bouskila spoke with Hamodia about his community, its special minhagim, and how a tzaddik interceded from On High to help him build his wonderful kehillah.

The First Moroccan Jews in America

After World War II, the founder of Mirrer Yeshiva in Brooklyn, the Rakover Rav, Harav Avrohom Kalmanowitz, zt”l, brought many talmidei chachamim to Brooklyn, including Harav Efraim Mordechai Ginsburg, zt”l, Harav Shmuel Birnbaum, zt”l, Harav Shmuel Brudny, zt”l, and many other Gedolei Yisrael. The “alte Mirrers,” as they were known, rebuilt the bastion of Torah that had been miraculously saved during the War.

After being very active in rescue efforts during the Holocaust, In the early 1950s, Harav Kalmanowitz turned his attention to a different kind of rescue mission — while the Nazis destroyed the Jewish body, forces of secularization in the Middle East were threatening to destroy the Jewish soul. The “Alliance Israelite Universelle,” an organization directed at “enlightening” French-speaking Sephardi Jews, began opening schools and trying to bring the Haskalah to countries that had until that point been largely unaffected by the ideological storms that their European brethren had been weathering for decades.

Harav Kalmanowitz supported the Otzar HaTorah network of Jewish schools, later joined by the Neve Shalom network, founded by the philanthropist Yitzchak Shalom. He also brought dozens of young Moroccan bachurim to Mirrer Yeshiva in the hope of training these young men to lead their communities and protect them from the forces of assimilation.

By the time Rabbi Bouskila came to Mir, those talmidim had moved on, but many davened in the shul he would go on to create, giving them their first opportunity in decades to participate in the prayer traditions of their forebears.

A Need to Build

“There were many Moroccan Jews in Brooklyn who had moved either from Morocco, Israel or France, who were lacking their own shul. In 1985, we rented a hall for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to make a Moroccan minyan, and we found that there were so many families of Moroccan descent. That’s when we decided that we needed a shul for this community. We built the first Moroccan synagogue in the United States.”

The shul, Netivot Yisrael, is now home to over 300 families.

No stranger to the Rabbinate, his father, Rabbi David Bouskila, was a Rav in Morocco and France until his retirement in 2010. He was active in chinuch and ran the Otzar HaTorah school in France.

Rabbi Bouskila is at the forefront of keeping children in his community out of public school, a sad reality that many face, especially in the traditional or partially observant segment of the population. Among families in his shul, he says, not a single child goes to public school.

“Baruch Hashem, I can say that we don’t have one child who goes to public school. Every child is placed in a Jewish school, even when parents can’t afford tuition.”

He uses a horrific story as a cautionary tale and as inspiration to keep children in yeshivos.

“About 30 years ago, there was a Moroccan family that came from Israel. They came because they had relatives here. They had fallen on hard times …. The father took a job as a baker, and the mother was working in a store, but they couldn’t afford tuition in a Jewish school. They unfortunately sent their children to public school. One of their daughters turned to illegal substances, Rachmana litzlan. She sadly passed away. Since then, I took it upon myself that this should never happen again. And that’s how, baruch Hashem, we managed to have a fund, which we call “Adopt-a-Child.” I have people who give every month and we make sure that everyone is in a yeshivah.”

Without a Moroccan yeshiva in New York, the community sends their children to Sephardic schools, including Ateret Torah, Yeshiva Darchei Eretz, and Magen David.

Rabbi Bouskila says that young people are marrying within the community and that it is steadily growing.

“Now our Va’ad, the shul’s committee, is trying to expand the shul as much as they can, so we can have room for all these new young couples. Couples that are married over 30 years ago are now marrying off their children.”

After high school, many boys go to Mikdash Melech when they go to Israel; others go to Ashkenazi yeshivos, like Chofetz Chaim, Merkaz HaTorah, or Torah Ohr. Girls typically go to Sephardi seminaries.

A Truly Moroccan Shul — An Opportunity for Chinuch

Rabbi Bouskila is determined to teach children to keep their rich Moroccan heritage, and it starts in shul. The shul maintains the same nusach, piyutim, ta’amim, and other minhagim exactly as they were practiced in Morocco.

“Moroccan Jews are one of the only Sephardi communities who have mostly maintained the Andalusian musical style. In other Middle Eastern countries, the singing is mostly Arabic-style. We also have some tunes that date back to Bayit Sheni. Most other Sephardim perform kriat haTorah in the Yerushalmi tradition. We have our own ta’amim that are completely different, unique to our community.

“I personally give classes to children to boys to teach them our traditions; how we sing the piyutim, read from the Torah …. So even if they go to a Syrian school, when they come back to shul, we make sure that they learn our ways. Baruch Hashem, all our boys, at any given age, can read the parashah and the haftarah; we start them off when they are very young, and we get them very much involved.”

There are other shul-based minhagim that are unique to the Moroccan community. For instance, “We stand for Aseret Hadibrot, unlike all other Sephardim, who sit.”

Some of the original Mirrer talmidim, even though they became integrated in the Ashkenazi yeshivah world, daven at Netivot Yisrael during Yamim Noraim and Tishah B’av, times when nusach varies greatly and many piyutim are said.

“Unfortunately, many of them are no longer with us.”

The shul is home to a kollel during the day, and together with Harav Moshe Baron from Beis Hatalmud, Rabbi Bouskila runs a night kollel with avreichim who make learning groups with the ba’alei battim

An Address for Moroccan Rabbanim

When new Moroccan communities begin, Rabbanim often come to Rabbi Bouskila for assistance. When a new Moroccan shul was opened in Philadelphia, the Rabbi called Rabbi Bouskila for guidance in minhagim and how to run the shul. Rabbi Bouskila also assisted a recently built Moroccan shul in Atlanta, Georgia, as well, providing them with sefarim and siddurim in the Moroccan nusach.

Kitniot: A Unique Definition

Ashkenazi Jews have a universal minhag to not consume any rice, legumes, or other foods which can be made into a chametz-like flour on Pesach. While most Sephardi Jews eat rice (after checking each grain three times) and eat other kitniot without any checking, Moroccan Jews have a special minhag all their own.

“Unlike the rest of the Sephardic world, Moroccan Jews are not permitted to eat certain kitniot on Pesach. We don’t eat rice at all, and we also do not eat any dried kitniot — beans, legumes, etc.But we eat any kind of kitniot, besides rice, if it is fresh, like fava beans or string beans. This is because when they are dried, they might have been dried together or stored with chametz. When fresh, this concern does not apply.”

Moroccan P’sak Halachah

“Most of our p’sakim we get from the great Chida, Chacham Chaim Yosef David Azulai, who lived in Morocco for a while, and the family of the Ohr Hachaim Hakadosh who lived in Morocco most of his life. We also have a lot of minhagim that we took from the Rosh, who our Rabbanim in Morocco accepted as their Rav. This is why people say that we are very close to the Ashkenazim, because we took upon ourselves a lot of Ashkenazic minhagim … which I don’t want to say is 100% correct. A lot of our minhagim are from before the Rosh … Maran Beit Yosef is said to have told the Rabbanim of Morocco, “I see that you have your own minhagim from a very long time ago; I’m writing this for all the Jews except you — continue with your minhagim.

“We light Shabbos and Yom Tov candles before making the brachah, which is not the minhag elsewhere in Sephardic communities. The minhag in Morocco was not to be machmir on chalak (glatt), except for some yechidim who were strict on themselves; we also do not require shechitat Beit Yosef. In Morocco, the butchers perform nikkur according to our mesorah, but here we do not.”

In many instances, Moroccans follow the same opinions as other Sephardim.

“On Chanukah, we only light one menorah per household, except for children, who light their own for chinuch.”

Jews in Morocco: From the Times of Bayis Rishon

“Jews in Morocco have a history of being there since Bayit Rishon, and we’re the only group with historical evidence of living outside of Eretz Yisrael during that time. In Tanach, Dovid Hamelech sent his general Yoav to kill Avner. Archaeologists have found a stone in Morocco with an inscription that reads, “Until here Yoav Ben Tzruyah pursued Avner Ben Ner,” so it seems there were Jews living there even then.

“They’ve also found a sefer that lists Jewish holidays, including all of the Yamim Tovim in the Torah but omitting Purim and Chanukah, which shows that they were living there before those nissim occurred. [There is] historical evidence showing that we lived there during Bayit Rishon. There is also a town in Morocco called Ifrane, which many say used to be named after Shevet Efraim.

“We have a tradition that Shlomo Hamelech sent one of his sons to Morocco to become a king. We don’t know exactly how that ended, but he is buried there. Many people come to pray at his kever, and it is also respected by Muslims.”

The surname of the Rif, Harav Yitzchak Alfasi, is taken from his hometown of Fez, in Morocco, once home to a large Jewish community.

For centuries, Jews lived in “mellahs,” Jewish neighborhoods, but they were not confined in ghettos like their Ashkenazi brethren.

Jews in Morocco today

About 2,100 Jews currently live in Morocco — less than 10% of the population that was there before the State of Israel was founded.

While the Moroccan Arab population at times engaged in pogroms and antisemitic boycotts, King Hassan II, who reigned from 1961 until 1999, was a friend to Moroccan Jews, supporting the rebuilding of historic shuls, granting civil rights, and legally recognizing the community.

The vast majority of the community moved to France, Israel, Canada, and the United States in several waves of mass immigration during the 1950s and 1960s.

Casablanca is home to a community of around 2,000 Jews; other cities, such as Marrakech, have smaller, mostly aging populations.

“Today in Casablanca, there is a large elementary school for boys and girls. When they go to high school, they are sent to France, either to Paris or Aix-lesBains, like I was. There are also Chabad schools, one for girls, and another for boys. According to The Economist, about 50,000 Israeli Moroccan Jews visit the country every year.”

Moroccan Foods

“Moroccan Jews eat the same food that they ate in Morocco. On Shabbat, if you walk into a Moroccan house, you’ll see 15 to 20 salads and dips on the table.

“A Shabbat staple is s’china, which means ‘hot.’ We put several ingredients in a pot, but in separate sections, unlike cholent; nothing is mixed together. There’s a bag of rice, wheat, potatoes, meat, boiled eggs, and chickpeas. So when you get it onto your plate, it looks beautifully presented.”

Etrogim

“I’m one of the first importers of Moroccan etrogim into America. I just came back from Morocco myself to bring etrogim, and then I went to Spain for the lulavim.

“There’s a shortage this year, especially since Morocco has opened its doors to Israel, making it very easy and accessible for Israelis to get etrogim from Morocco. Morocco is a viable alternative for those who wish to avoid Shemittah concerns altogether.

“Moroccans have a long-standing mesorah that their etrogim are authentic, and never have been grafted with other citrus fruits. Adding to their credence is the fact that etrogim were not grown commercially, but rather grew in the wild and were minimally maintained by nonJewish farmers.

“It’s one of the oldest chazakot for etrogim, so much so that the Rambam, when he lived in Egypt, would send someone to Morocco after Shavuot to retrieve etrogim for him in time for the chagim.”

A Special Connection With the Baba Sali

“We opened the shul in 1985, a year after the Baba Sali, Harav Yisrael Abuchatzeira, zt”l passed away. We named it after him; his name was Yisrael, and he lived in Netivot, so I called it Netivot Yisrael. Netivot also means “ways,” and the Baba Sali taught us the ways of Yisrael.

“In 1978, when I was in a bachur in Aix-les-Bains Yeshiva in France, I went to visit him, and he gave me a very special brachah. He said, “Be’ezrat Hashem, you’re going to go far. I wish you a lot of hatzlachah to work with the tzibbur.” And I did not understand what he meant at the time; I thought he meant that I’m going to go far in life. He also told me that I was going to get married soon. I was 19 at the time, and I never dreamed of getting married at that age. I thought, ‘I’m going to go study, and get married at 24.’ But Hashem made it that my Rosh Yeshivah in France sent me to Lakewood. I was learning there, and someone brought me to Brooklyn, and I met my wife. And within the same year, I got married. Afterwards I went to kollel in Mirrer Yeshiva.

“That brachah still resonates in my mind. When I saw that I was given the z’chut to open a beit knesset, I thought of him. It was within the year that he passed away, around the time of his first hilula

“His influence on me, and the shul, transcended this world. When we started building the shul, baruch Hashem, we collected a lot of money. But the money wasn’t enough to buy the house, convert it into a shul, and to finish the project. But I didn’t want to give up, and we started building. In the middle of everything, the contractor told me, ‘Rabbi, if I don’t get any more money, I have to stop. And when you get the rest of the money, call me back.’

“I was very disturbed and stressed. Baruch Hashem, somebody came to me and told me about a certain old woman, a widow. She had sold her house and her husband’s businesses, and she had no children. She had moved into an old age home.

“We asked to arrange a meeting with her, which she gladly agreed to. We needed $250,000 at that time to give to the contractor to finish the work. I asked her if she would like to buy the name of the building for herself and her husband. At first, she said it was too much, and I told her that whatever she would like to con- tribute would be greatly appreciated, and that she could purchase a room, or even a mezuzah, to have her family’s name on it. Some had told me that I asked for too much, but the way I saw it was that I asked for what we needed.

I went to pray Minchah and Arvit in Bnei Yosef. In those days there were no cell phones; I come back home, and my wife tells me that there’s an elderly lady who called twice and wanted to speak with me.

“It was the lady I had met earlier that day. She tells me that she’s interested with buying the name! She wanted to arrange a meeting with her, myself, Rabbi Jacob Kassin, Chief Rabbi of the Syrian community, and several lay leaders. A contract was drawn up, and we were ready to go. One of the lay leaders asked me what the shul would be named, and I said that it would be called Netivot Yisrael, after the Baba Sali. The woman had thought that the shul itself will be named after her husband, not just the building name. I told her that the name was not for sale, even if she would give us millions of dollars. I wanted the shul to be named after the tzaddik, the Baba Sali, whose brachah led me to this moment. The deal fell through.

This was in the winter; two weeks later, we made a special celebration on the first hilula of the Baba Sali, in a large hall. I thought, maybe if the would-be donor came, she’d be impressed with the hundreds of people coming to the hilula — the music, food, and everything else.

She unfortunately was unable to come, as she later told me that she was not feeling well that day. I offered to come and give her a present in honor of the hilula, which she agreed to. I brought her one of the paintings of the Baba Sali, and as I tore the paper wrapping, showing his holy face, she let out a scream! I was worried that something had scared her, so I tried to calm her.

“She asked, ‘Who is that?’

“I told her, ‘It’s the Baba Sali,’ and she said that this Rabbi had repeatedly come to her in a dream, telling her to donate money to the shul. The tzaddik was working from Shamayim on our behalf!

“She told me to bring her a phone, and she called her lawyer, telling him emphatically that she was going to sponsor the entire sum that we needed. Not only did she pay the contractor, she also donated a sefer Torah, and gave us more money for unexpected bills later on.”

As the community grows, Rabbi Bouskila looks to the future needs of his people. “It is my dream to open our own school system. We recently had a meeting with the va’ad to discuss finding a building and logistics; we already have playgroups, but we would love to open schools to teach our children according to our unique mesorah.”