Latest / The History of Portugal: The Small Nation That Built a Global Empire — Fexingo History / Portugal's Jewish Legacy: The Rise and Fall of the Lisbon Synagogue
Transcript
- Lucas: So Luna, we've talked a lot about Portugal's Age of Discovery — the navigators, the spice trade, the empire building. But there's a whole other story woven into that fabric, one that's often left in the shadows: the story of Portugal's Jews. Luna: I know there was a significant Jewish community, but I don't know much beyond the expulsion in 1497. Lucas: Right, that's the turning point. But before that, for centuries, Jewish communities thrived in Portugal. They were scholars, merchants, astronomers, even royal advisers. King Afonso IV, in the 14th century, actually appointed a Jew named Isaac Abrabanel as his treasurer. And it wasn't just Lisbon—there were vibrant communities in Porto, Coimbra, Évora. They lived in specific quarters called judiarias, but they were integrated into society in a way that was relatively rare in Europe. Luna: So what changed? Lucas: Well, the same forces that drove the Reconquista and the Inquisition in Spain. When King Manuel I married the Spanish princess Isabella in 1497, part of the deal was that he had to expel all Jews who refused baptism. But Manuel was clever — or ruthless, depending on your view. Instead of a mass expulsion like Spain, he ordered all Jewish children under fourteen to be forcibly taken from their parents and baptized. That was the start of the New Christian population — conversos, they were called. Then in 1506, a terrible massacre broke out in Lisbon, sparked by rumors that a New Christian had insulted a statue of Christ. The mob killed thousands in the streets. It was one of the worst anti-Jewish pogroms in European history before the modern era. Luna: That's horrific. And it's not something you hear about in the typical Portugal travel guide. Lucas: No, and it's often glossed over. But the Inquisition cast a long shadow. Crypto-Jews — those who secretly kept Jewish practices — were pursued for centuries. Many fled to the Ottoman Empire, to Amsterdam, to Brazil. They took with them the language of their ancestors, Ladino, and a deep nostalgic longing for Portugal, a word they have: saudades. It's no coincidence that the word is central to Portuguese identity today. But for the Jews, it meant something else — a longing for a homeland they had lost. Luna: And what about the physical synagogues? Are there any left from that time? Lucas: Sadly, no original medieval synagogues survive. The great Lisbon synagogue, built in the Alfama district, was destroyed during the 1506 massacre. But there is a fascinating modern one: the Lisbon Synagogue on Rua Alexandre Herculano, completed in 1904. It's a beautiful building, built in a neo-Byzantine style, and it stands as a testament to the community's resilience. For centuries, there was no public Jewish life in Portugal. It was only in the 19th century that a small community re-formed, mostly from Moroccan Jews and some returnees. So the synagogue is relatively new, but it's built on ancient foundations of memory. Luna: So the Jewish story in Portugal is really one of loss and survival. Lucas: Exactly. And there's been a recent effort to reclaim that heritage. In 2015, Portugal approved a law allowing descendants of Sephardic Jews expelled in the 15th century to claim Portuguese citizenship. Thousands have applied. It's a way of acknowledging a wound that was left open for five centuries. And it's also a reminder that the history of Portugal isn't just about empire and exploration — it's about the diverse people who built it, and the ones who were pushed aside. Luna: You know, it's funny — we're talking about a history that's often hidden, but it's a history that's also very present. The saudades, the fado music, even the architecture — there are echoes everywhere. Lucas: Absolutely. And if you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you know that these conversations are only possible because of listeners like you. We keep Fexingo ad-free and independent, and that means we rely on small gestures from people who value deep dives into the past. If you'd like to support the show, you can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Just a coffee's worth helps us keep digging into these stories. Luna: It really does. And we're grateful for every bit of support. Lucas: So, back to that Lisbon synagogue. It's not just a building — it's a symbol. When it was inaugurated in 1904, it represented a new beginning. But it also carries the weight of the old. The community that built it was small, maybe a few hundred families, but they were determined to have a place where their faith could be practiced openly. And in a way, that synagogue is a quiet protest against the centuries of silence. It's a place where the memory of the Judiaria and the voices of the crypto-Jews finally have a home. Luna: I'd love to visit it someday. And maybe walk through the Alfama and think about what it was like before 1497. Lucas: You should. The Alfama still has that winding, medieval feel. It's easy to imagine the old Jewish quarter, the workshops, the synagogues. And when you listen to the fado echoing through those narrow streets, you might just hear a hint of that ancient longing — the saudades of a people who were told they no longer belonged, but whose memory still clings to the city's stones.