Any one of these factors might drive migration to Israel from Iquitos; together, they are a powerful motivating force. Between 2016 and 2019, I interviewed 52 adult members of the Iquitos Jewish community, a number that, according to the synagogue records, represents all but seven of the adult affiliated members of the synagogue during that time period. In that time, the average age of my respondents dropped from 45 to 38, and almost all the 2016 interviewees made aliyah. Although I interviewed 19 people in 2016 and 35 in 2019, I am sure that these averages represent a notable demographic shift, because during both visits I was assured I had spoken to the majority of adults in the community, having arrived in a habitual lull between the exodus of the recent converts and the entry of prospective converts. I was able to re-interview only three adults in 2019, as all the rest had either died, moved to Lima, or moved to Israel. Notably, in 2016, almost 90% of my interview subjects claimed Moroccan Jewish ancestry, while only half of my 2019 subjects did: the other half were the spouses of community members who did claim descendance. In general, there has been almost complete turnover in Iquitos, and the main body of congregants in 2019 was made up of younger adults, most with children below the age of 13. Individual/community-level dynamics explain this turnover.
Those that I spoke to in 2016 were either old-timers who have practiced all their lives, or in large part,potted blueberries those still dwelling in Iquitos after the 2011 conversion. Encompassing 280 children and adults, 2011 saw the largest conversion in Iquitos, almost three times the size of the conversion of 2018, which included 94. According to the Abramowitzes and my oldest respondent in 2016, who was 76 years old, almost all the converts from 2002 and 2004 made aliyah as outlined in Rabbi Bronstein’s plan. They left behind younger siblings, parents, and in some cases children. “Before 3G [cellphone networks] it was hard to stay in touch because calling was expensive, but by 2009 or around then I think we all had it, and I started calling every week,” said Angélica12, explaining how she used her cellphone to maintain contact with her older sister and eventually niece, who moved to Beersheba in 2003. She was not alone in taking advantage of technology to keep in touch with friends and family in Israel. 33 of my 35 2019 interviewees mentioned using the Internet and/or their cell phones to communicate with past olim. These technological connections make passing information between Iquiteños in Israel and in Peru much faster, cheaper, and easier. Most people use WhatsApp to message and video call, and three families showed me WhatsApp group chats that included members living in both countries, while others told me that it was common practice.
Facebook is another thread connecting the two halves of the community: individuals use Messenger and their personal pages to communicate. Some people do visit in person, especially after a death in the family. In 2016, two young women were visiting Iquitos for that reason, and one in 2019. One man maintained business interests in Iquitos and returned in person every few years to attend to his enterprises. Children will also return to visit their parents while alive: in 2019, the Abramowitzes and two other older individuals informed me that they had received at least one visit from their adult children since those children’s aliyot. Nevertheless, air travel between Israel and Peru is prohibitively expensive for most, so overwhelmingly, modern communications technology permits familial and friendship ties to persist across distance in Iquitos. These transnational ties inspire those who originally stayed behind in Iquitos to become active in the community themselves. Respondents told me that hearing family members’ and friends’ stories of their experiences with Judaism and aliyah inspired them to come to the synagogue to learn for themselves, feel closer to their distant relations, or to seek a new spiritual experience. Those who stayed universally told me that they felt that Judaism fit them or called to them in some way. The most common responses were that respondents valued Judaism’s perceived emphasis on family and education, that it made them feel closer to their family history, and that they appreciated what felt like a personal relationship with God. These responses came in response to my request that they tell me the story of their relationship with Judaism.
As conversion narratives, they may not reflect the actual course of events, but they are very real to their respondents. It also supports Lofland and Stark’s “affective bond” and “intensive interaction” steps, which Snow and Phillips accept as perhaps the most important and universally applicable steps in the model. This part of the narrative demonstrates how commonplace, practical transnational influence blends with a sense of spiritual calling for many Iquiteños. It also indicates that Lofland and Stark’s insistence that converts must sever “extra-cult bonds” , in keeping with general portrayals of conversion as intensely individual, is quite incorrect in this case. Considering that other large portion of my interviewees from 2019 were the spouses of those with Jewish ancestry, some 14 adults, 10 of whom were women, without such bonds, most of my 2019 interviewees would never have entered the synagogue. Once in the synagogue, these young families are educated about Judaism following the syllabus described earlier, which hews closely to the topics of education first suggested by Rabbi Bronstein. Students begin with lessons in elementary Hebrew, using children’s primers,square plastic pot which take place alongside classes taught in Spanish on Jewish history and culture — essentially, Ashkenazi Jewish history and culture. Moroccan Jews or Latin American Jews are not included. When classes in conversational Hebrew and the history of the modern state of Israel are required alongside classes in liturgy, the very syllabus of conversion indicates that Israeliness and Jewishness are the same, and that both those identities have little to do with Iquiteños’ own pasts. Moreover, as each wave of new converts leaves, it reinforces the idea that graduating, if you will, into Jewishness also involves leaving the Diaspora for Israel. Once again, the practical and the religious converge, each necessary to endorse the other.In 2019, 25 of 35 respondents had children under the age of 18 still living in Peru. Universally, those 25 mentioned a desire for their children to “get a Jewish education” and “grow up Jewish.” The best way to do this, they thought, was to allow them to grow up in Israel. Parental concern about children’s Jewish educations, opportunities, and identities if they continue to live in Iquitos are the primary motivating factor I found in adults’ narratives about their migration choices. Most of these children are quite young: only two sets of parents had children above the age of 15. It is indeed difficult to practice Judaism in Iquitos: seven parents told me of their children facing antisemitic taunts from their peers, and every parent mentioned that they had to choose between a higher-quality education at a Catholic school and an inferior one at supposedly secular public schools, which nonetheless often ask students to practice writing via copying prayers. There is only the one synagogue, no access to kosher food, and little in the way of Jewish life for teenagers. “I worry that my daughter will just be confused,” one mother told me. “She comes home singing these Christian songs just as much as she sings the [Jewish] prayers.” In this way, education and religion are tied together. To Iquiteño-Jewish parents, getting a “good education” has as much to do with getting an education that teaches their children how to be good Jews as it does with academic practicalities.
There is no division. If being a good Jew means being in Israel, then it stands to reason that learning to be a good Jew should take place in Israel. Some might consider this mindset purely rationalist, desiring a “better” life for one’s children. I, however, cannot help but see the inseparability of practical education and spiritual education for the parents of Iquitos. The two eighteen-year-olds I interviewed in 2019 were the most candid about the material benefits they expected to receive after migrating.Another felt that his chances of achieving enough stability to financially support his younger siblings would be better working in Tel Aviv than in economically depressed Iquitos.Both also told me that by making aliyah and becoming successful Israeli citizens , they would be proving that they were Jews, something they had felt sure of since they were young children, but which also felt like something that could be taken away from them, whether by the strictures of Iquitos’ Catholic rhythms or by the lack of recognition of their Conservative/Masorti conversions. One, who mentioned acquiring an expedited Orthodox conversion in the military, said that he wanted to be financially successful so that he could meet a Jewish Israeli woman and support her. Even these young adults, then, blended their economic interests and their spirits. However, it is vitally important to note that, although these benefits might accrue to the youngest members of the community, or perhaps their children, they will probably not accrue to the majority of Iquiteño migrants. Being middle-class in Perú is not the same as being middle class in Israel, and the hit migrants take from being unable to speak Hebrew fluently, not being certified in their professions in Israel, and other hindrances, severely hamper them. This is dealt with more thoroughly in the next chapter, but it is clear that in the absence of material benefit, some sort of religious benefit becomes a more convincing argument. When these young adults and young parents with their children migrate, they will not leave behind the rest of their families as earlier waves of converts did. The transnational social field between Israel and Iquitos, which has been self-sustaining for almost two decades, may continue in a diminished way, but it is running out of potential converts, and therefore potential migrants. Sra. Abramowitz does not believe there will be another conversion anytime soon, and does not wish to continue classes aimed at emigration. She wants to build a community, if possible, in Iquitos, though she doubts there are enough people to make it viable long-term. Sr. Abramowitz told me, in his jocular way, “Eventually there simply aren’t any more Levy’s out there in the jungle to find.” Rather than a give-and-take or circular model, the migration dynamic in Iquitos is one of suction, where people leave and do not return. As families reunite in Israel and stay there, and as fewer people with Moroccan-Jewish heritage exist in Iquitos to rediscover their roots, migration to Israel may peter out along with the base community. I could, of course, be incorrect. Perhaps this latest wave will begin to pull more, previously unaffiliated people without Jewish ancestry towards Israel, but there is no evidence of such a dynamic yet. It is inaccurate to describe Iquiteño Jews as solely motivated to convert by practical or religious concerns. Iquiteño Jews are motivated by both practical and religious concerns, and often do not see a difference between the two. Individuals may fall differently on a spectrum between material and religious interests, but all exhibit at least some blending behaviors. Because of this blending, the choice to emigrate is often seen as simply a part of the choice to convert. This fusion is a result of early state/institutional-level influence on the Iquitos congregation in a global atmosphere that has all the hallmarks of standard migration. Given a situation that is ripe for migration in general, and offered a way of learning Judaism that emphasizes the role of Israel and once even required aliyah, it is unsurprising that recent converts continue to migrate to Israel at such a high rate. This transnational activity is both a sign of and a reason for the changes to Iquiteño self-identification as Jews and as members of a diaspora.