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Chesed El Synagogue, Singapore, Singapore

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BACKGROUND

Singapore was yet another stop on Baghdadi Jews’ path eastward. According to Jonathan Goldstein, Baghdadi Jews arrived in Singapore in the mid-nineteenth century after their sojourn in East and West India. Goldstein argues that the Baghdadi Jews of Singapore constituted what historian David Sorkin terms ‘port Jews,’ a category originally meant to describe Sephardic and Italian merchant Jews who settled in port cities in central Europe, the Mediterranean, and the New World in the early modern period.[1] Summarizing Sorkin’s argument, Goldstein explains the particular nature of port Jewish communities, which leveraged their commercial acumen to gain privileged statuses in their host countries, and also cultivated a Jewish identity and community that tended to be modern, intellectual, and secular, yet still undeniably Jewish.[2] Goldstein contends that the Jews of Singapore were another example of port Jews, claiming that they “enjoyed residential permission, civic inclusion and full commercial privilege in Singapore from their moment of arrival.”[3]

Sir Menasseh Meyer might be the most well-known Baghdadi Jew of Singapore. Born in Baghdad in 1846, Meyer grew up in Kolkata before moving to Singapore in 1873 to assist his uncle in his ventures in the opium trade. Like many Baghdadi Jews of Singapore who grew disillusioned with the fickleness of the opium trade, Meyer also became involved in real estate. He greatly expanded the real estate of his uncle’s business, growing it to encompass the Adelphia and Sea View hotels. By 1900, he was the proprietor of nearly three-quarters of the real estate on the island. Many considered him the wealthiest Jew of the Far East, exceeding even the Sassoons.[4]

According to Goldstein, the Jews of Singapore were simultaneously steeped in both religious and secular life. That is, Baghdadi Jews of Singapore such as Meyer and another merchant by the name of Abraham Solomon were intent on adapting aspects of the modern British lifestyle and educating their children in English, yet they were still committed to inculcating Singapore with a Jewish character, establishing Jewish synagogues and institutions to achieve this end.

Menasseh, an ardent Zionist, also imbued Singaporean Jewry with a commitment to the stewardship of the Land of Palestine. In addition to drawing inspiration from the forefather of political Zionism Theodor Herzl, Menasseh also drew inspiration from the Baghdadi proto-religious Zionist Rabbi Hakham Joseph Hayyim.

During World War II the Singaporean Jewish community suffered at the hands of the Japanese, who persecuted and incarcerated the Jews of East and Southeast Asia. Of those who survived the war, many left for Australia, Canada, and the United States. Those that stayed, however, maintained a close-knit Zionist Jewish community. One such member was David Saul Marshall who, in 1955, was elected Singapore’s first Chief Minister. “In that capacity,” argues Goldstein, “[Marshall] gave Singapore its first measure of internal self-government and set the colony on its path to complete independence, which was achieved shortly after Marshall left office.”[5] According to Goldstein, the Jews of both colonial and independent Singapore enjoyed equality because they were viewed as economic assets and importantly,  they were considered a bridge between Singapore and Israel, after whom Singapore hoped to model itself in certain ways.[6] 

Importantly, the “strengthening of Baghdadi Jewish life and of ties between Singapore and Israel” in the first decades after the war “occurred simultaneously with the almost complete disintegration of Jewish communal life in Iraq.”[7] Facing persecution and hostility, over 150,000 Jews left Iraq for Israel between 1949 and 1950.

While Singapore for a time housed a diverse Jewish community that even included Israelis and European Ashkenazim, the Singaporean Jewish community that has survived is largely Baghdadi in origin. As late as 2003, there were about 180 Jews in Singapore’s Jewish community. One gains a peek into Jewish life on the island from an excerpt of Goldstein’s article:

“An American academic who attended a Sabbath service in one of the Baghdadi synagogues in Singapore in 2000 observed both the recent diversity and traditional characteristics of the community. She wrote:

On the right side sit the old-timers, the men of Baghdadi origin who lived through the Japanese occupation. On the left side sit the wealthier members of the community and the younger generation of Jews and expatriate Israelis, some of whom have become important, active members of the community…When Frank Benjamin, President of the Jewish Welfare Board, stepped down from participating in the Torah service, he walked the room and wishes Shabbat shalom to all. The gesture is heartfelt and inclusive, consistent with his determination to bring all Jews living in Singapore together … Frank Benjamin and others are determined to keep their [community] vibrant and alive without sacrificing the basic orthodox traditions that inspired Singapore’s first Baghdadi Jews over 160 years ago.”[8] 

Today, Singapore’s Jewish community has increased to 2,000-3,000 thanks to an influx in Jewish and Israeli expat immigration. Singapore’s Chesed El and Maghain Aboth Synagogues are both still in use, although have been closed temporarily during the COVID-19 crisis.[9]

SITE

The Maghain Aboth Synagogue of Singapore is a powerful and enduring symbol of the unification of the diverse and multicultural Jewish community of Baghdad. However, in certain ways it was unable to unify the Jews of Baghdad. Most notably, in its early years, the Maghain Aboth Synagogue exacerbated the already stark divide between rich and poor in the Singaporean Jewish community.   

In her book The Jews of Singapore, Joan Bieder, invoking observations from contemporary community historian Eze Nathan, writes that “[at Maghain Aboth] the rich sat on the left of the bimah, the shopkeepers and small merchants on the right, and the poor behind.” Outside of the synagogue, divisions between the rich and poor were equally, if not more, conspicuous. “Land was comparatively inexpensive,” writes Bieder, “and the wealthy moved to grand estates far from the synagogue area, either on hilltops or on newly built roads along the coast where the jungle had been cleared. The middle class moved to bungalows removed from the synagogue, but within walking distance. The poor and less well-off moved to the mahallah (Jewish quarter), close to Maghain Aboth. The rich lived in splendour, spoke English, carried British passports, bought British furniture, and sent their daughters to finishing schools in Switzerland and their sons to British academies and universities in England.”[10] 

The middle class, composed of shopkeepers, artisans, merchants, and owners of small import-export firms, lived in small bungalows with servants and tended to be loyal to the Crown, despite relatively poor living conditions and poor hygiene that caused disease to spread at a high rate. “They hung photographs of the royal family in their homes,” writes Bieder, “sent their children to colonial schools and, to the degree their budgets allowed, emulated the British lifestyle.” According to Eze Nathan, “‘We were all royalists, had pictures of the Royal family prominently displayed on our walls, wore red, white and blue rosettes proudly for a celebration and black crepe armbands dramatically for a death [...] We were unaware of racial tensions - were we not all British? - and we were almost unaware of differences in class and religion. Yet, change was in the air, and our community was developing in line with it.”[11] 

By 1900, however, the poor outnumbered both the rich and the middle class. And they felt far less integrated into local society and far less connected to the British empire and British lifestyle.  In fact, they missed home and, living and working as merchants, bakers, and servants, tried to recreate the Baghdadi-Jewish lifestyle of Iraq in the mahallah. The majority of them did not know English, and spoke only Malay and Tamil. They were looked down upon by both the British, who considered them both Jewish and Asian and thus of a lower racial and social status, and wealthier Jews.[12]

Many of the poor Baghdadi Jews of Singapore were pious Orthodox Jews who worked as hazans (cantors) or  shamashes (caretakers) at the synagogues or as shochets (ritual slaughterers). Some poorer Baghdadi Jews, such as the father of Mr. Albert Lelah, would leave the mahallah to sell goods, such as crockery and textiles, on the Malayan peninsula, taking as long as a month and a half. 

Although they lived in close proximity, the “gap between the rich and poor was complete and dramatic,” argues Bieder. “The community existed on two disconnected levels. If you lived in the mahallah, you might visit an aunt in wealthy Katong, and if you lived on exclusive Nassim Road you might venture into the mahallah to buy freshly-baked bread for Shabbat, or pray at the synagogue on major holidays. But other than that, the paths of the rich and poor seldom crossed.”[13] 

Thus, as the Jewish population of Singapore continued to grow (from 1878 when Maghain Aboth Synagogue opened to 1901 it went from 172 to 462), Maghain Aboth Synagogue became more and more congested. In 1905, wealthy Baghdadi-Jewish merchant Manasseh Meyer built for himself a new synagogue called Chesed-El (Merciful God). Nominally, it was meant to be his personal synagogue, where he could “communicate more easily and directly with the God he loved.” This was similar to what David Sassoon had done in 1863 when he built a personal synagogue in a suburb of Bombay called Pune. However, in practice, Chesed-El, an “elegant white stucco synagogue” far away from the mahallah, became the synagogue for the rich, and Maghain Aboth the synagogue for the poor.[14] 

Despite its role in furthering the divide between the rich and poor Jews of Singapore, Chesed-El, according to Bieder, is “perhaps the most beautiful of all the synagogues built by the men of the Baghdadi Trade Diaspora. A jewel box of a structure, the graceful cream-coloured building, designed by R.A.J. Bidwell of Swan and MacLaren, combines features of Roman and Greek architecture, including gold-trimmed columns and many large arched windows. The double arches above the gallery of its airy interior are perhaps Chesed-El’s most dramatic and pleasing architectural feature, and its fine acoustics allow worshippers seated on the main floor or in the gallery to fully appreciate the ritual chanting.”[15]

At the dedication ceremony on Friday April 14, 1905—which happened to be Shabbat Hagodol (the Sabbath right before Passover)—Meyer recited a sermon which he had commissioned one of the premier religious sages of the time Joseph Hayyim of Baghdad to write. Meyer revered Joseph Hayyim and would publish newspapers and publications that included his teachings and writings that were circulated in Bombay, Kolkata, and Shanghai. Bieder argues that “Meyer’s long-term relationship and financial support of the most renowned hakham of the day showed how closely tied he remained to his Baghdadi religious roots even as he became an increasingly successful businessman and respected city father in Singapore.”[16] 

Singapore, Singapore

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