Sacred sand, wise hands, July musings

It’s the first week of summer 2024, and we are back safe and sound in our beloved little Rhody with its Jewish headquarters in Newport at the Touro synagogue.

Our state promised, of course, and famously, freedom of religion and freedom from religion. In his remarkable letter “To the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island” George Washington stated “the Government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens, in giving it on all occasions their effectual support.” In the smallest colony of the brand-new nation, freedom of religion was guaranteed personally by the president himself.

The words Washington wrote inspired me to visit the Caribbean countries where Sephardic Jews settled the sand-covered interiors of the various islands. The first probably came with Columbus’s 1492 expedition which set off a day after the Alhambra Decrees of 1492 either expelled Jews from Spain or forced them to convert. A number of those who traveled with Columbus were known to be conversos and Columbus himself is thought to have had Jewish heritage.

The date of their departure from Spain was no accident. Whether British, French, Spanish or Dutch, European armies eventually established their rule over the native peoples of the islands with tragic results.

So, in the last week of June, we flew to Saint Lucia to join our daughter and her family for a week of glamor and glory in the sunshine. Well, if ya know me, I really prefer to imagine that I can learn by travel, not just relax, and in this case perhaps trace the origins of Rhode Island’s Jewish legacy. I visited the islands seeking the sand that might have muffled the sounds of Hebrew prayer, while monarchies from Europe stripped those same islands of their treasures.

I wanted to gain a sense of the footsteps that may link the Caribbean to our South County beaches with their sands, bays and rivers, and perhaps even follow the wings of migrating birds that fly from there to here, as I stroll our summer beaches between June and September. However, this time, in Saint Lucia, my favorite hour was spent in a spa, a clinic that offers pedicures and manicures, and a variety of magical muds from the local region. My magician, Lilia, plied her trade, and demonstrated her skill, by first soaking my hands in a hot bath. So far, so good. Then she trimmed, my overgrown fingernails, and next, focusing on my feet, noticed how overgrown they were. She seemed just a wee bit nervous about their condition (which probably explains why my wife made the appointment). But I was actually, surprisingly, quite relaxed and confident in her skills. The gentle touch of her strong hands massaging my hands and feet furnished me with an hour of true happiness! It was as though the wisdom of the region and its magical materials of mud, shell and stone had, through her touch and wisdom, somehow summed up why I travel in the elusive pursuit of the past held in the history of the land itself.

I like to find poetry in Bible study. Why did Moses take off his shoes? Because feet recognize holy ground. It was the holy ground of my Sephardic forbears that I found in the islands. Why do mothers in our faith light the Sabbath candles? Because there is wisdom in work, with our hands. Lilia’s work on my hands and feet came from the wisdom she had learned in her practice. During my undergraduate education, what I learned of value can be summed up in a phrase used by my professor, the renowned Cleanth Brooks, designer of the then-titled “New Criticism.” In his famous southern accent, he offered, and I scribbled on my notepad, “On the Other Hand!” As I splash my toes and soles on the sandy shore or use my hands and arms to struggle with the surf, these are the thoughts that come to mind this July.

MIKE FINK (mfink33@aol.com) is a professor emeritus at the Rhode Island School of Design.