A note to the Pope from the south of Spain

The Mezquita in Cordoba

Dear friends,

I have never considered writing a letter to the Pope until yesterday. I was sitting in The Mezquita, an incredible church-mosque complex in the Andalusian city of Cordoba. Being in a space that Carries the intertwined prayers of Christians and Muslims from the last 1500 years inspired me to put some words together to send to Pope Francis. It is likely in need of some revisions before I send it, if I ever do. But I share it with you this Shabbat and send you blessings from this marvellous city of our ancestors.

Your Holiness Pope Francis,

I write to you with awe from the holy grounds of the Mezquita in Cordoba. I sit here surrounded by the great oneness of the God of all people who have prayed here for centuries, Muslims, Christians and visitors of all faiths. As I write, bombs fall on Ukraine, again the bloody hatred of selfishness emerges, consuming lives like fire. But here in the Mezquita one can hear the sweet singing together of two faiths that have been at war many times.

This city was home to my people as well. Our great sage and teacher Rabbi Moses Son of Maimon was born and educated here during what is known as the Jewish Golden Age of Spain. Most of his books he wrote in Arabic, and reflect a deep relationship with his Muslim brethren. This “golden age” was, sadly not always so glowing for the Jews. Maimonides was likely forced to flee Cordoba when the Muslim ruler threatened his family with death if they did not convert to Islam. The church was no different, and ended our golden age with the forced expulsion of the Jews in 1492, after killing and converting many. While the Mezquita and its Muslim splendour have been preserved, little remains in Spain of the hundreds of years the Jews spent here, beyond the memories carried in the walls of the Juderia, and the writings we have preserved.

This is a time of war. This is also a time of opportunity. The church under your leadership has shown the loving face of God to the world. I write with a petition that is so remote that I more accurately call it a prayer.

Sitting here in this beautiful house of God, the coming together of two traditions, I can’t help but feel the missing representation of the faith both of these traditions violently crushed in Spain. What a testament it would be to the human ability to love if a small Jewish space were to be included in the Mezquita. What a powerful message that would send against war, against hatred, against division. What a lesson that would offer the world about our ability - even our responsibility - to repent, to make Teshuvah, to come back to the truth and to the peace of God.

I imagine the tiny Jewish enclave in this magnificent temple, and am filled with love and gratitude. This is the feeling that such a gift would fill Jews worldwide with. A gift to the Jews of the world, that would inspire generosity from all peoples.

I know that the local Muslims have petitioned to be allowed to pray in the Mezquita and were denied some years ago by the Vatican. This denial may make it more difficult to give a gift to the Jewish people in this time. My community and I would absolutely support such a request on behalf of the Muslim community here, were it to be considered again. I am certain there would be wide Jewish support for it. I have spent much of my life seeking meaningful partnerships with Palestinians that might bring about peace and reconciliation between Israel and Palestine. Such a gesture by the church toward both Jews and Muslims here in Cordoba would certainly provide an important boost to the efforts of the peace movement in Israel/Palestine.

I imagine a space where all three faiths can pray in harmony, and I feel at home in the world again.

“כי ביתי בית תפילה יקרא לכל העמים.”
“My house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples,” said Isaiah.

This is a time for giving, a time for fraternity, a time for the oneness of God to shine. Where better a place to allow it to happen than in the land where civil war tore everything apart after many generations of different faiths learning from one another and influencing each other to love God.

Humbly yours,

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Misha