Courtesy of JTA. Photo credit: Larry Luxner
Miriam and Baruj Rodriguez, both 62, are pillars of Andorra’s tiny Jewish community
(JTA) — To the south, in Spain, raucous protesters emboldened by their government’s recent recognition of Palestine are urging Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez to go even farther and cut diplomatic relations with Israel.
And to the north, in France, Jews fear an escalation of antisemitism following elections that saw a far-left party grab the biggest share of votes.
Wedged between these two big countries, however, is a tiny one where anti-Israel rallies are unheard of, ties with Israel remain strong, and the Jews enjoy prosperous, quiet lives — as long as they don’t officially call their subterranean cultural center a synagogue.
Welcome to Andorra, a mountainous microstate of 82,000 nestled in the eastern Pyrenees. Just 181 square miles in size — about three times bigger than Washington, D.C. — this principality is a skiing and duty-free shopping paradise. Andorra is also the world’s only self-declared Catalán-speaking nation, and since its founding in 1278, its state religion has been Roman Catholicism.
That doesn’t seem to be a problem for the local Jewish community, estimated by its members to number just 73.
“I don’t hide the fact that I’m Jewish. I’m proud of it,” said Andorra-born Mercedes Abitbol, 52, an official of the MoraBanc financial group who on a recent afternoon was sporting a small silver “chai” necklace while sitting an outdoor café in this picturesque city, which at 3,042 feet above sea level is Europe’s highest capital.
Unlike France and Spain, Andorra has no history of antisemitism. Maybe it’s because for most of its existence, not a single Jew lived here. In fact, there’s no record of a Jewish presence in this landlocked nation until World War II, when it became a temporary haven for French Jews and others fleeing the Nazis — a historical footnote alluded to in the 2023 Netflix miniseries “Transatlantic.”
Between 2,000 and 3,000 French Jews and others escaped Vichy France through neutral Andorra under incredibly harsh circumstances, according to mountaineer and local historian Joan Janer Rossell.
“Guides would take these people — including Poles, Germans and Hungarians — on foot to cross over the Pyrenees into Spain,” he said. “These mountain people were very poor, and the conditions were very bad. Some took advantage of the refugees, stole their money and even killed them. Many made it to Spain, but others died along the way.”
Rossell, 66, was raised Catholic but later discovered that his father had Jewish roots. He visited Israel in 1980 and got “Am Yisrael Chai” (Long live the people of Israel) tattooed on his forearm in Hebrew. He can sing Israel’s national anthem, “Hatikvah,” and has also written several novels in Catalán, including a history of the Andorran Pyrenees.
“The Jews here have always accepted me as a friend,” Rossell said. “Every year, the Israeli ambassador to Spain visits Andorra, and they always invite me to their cocktail reception.”
Officially, the country is governed by two co-princes: the French president and the bishop of Urgell, a region in Spain. And minuscule as it is, Andorra is not Europe’s tiniest microstate: Liechtenstein, Malta, Monaco, San Marino and the Vatican are all considerably smaller in size.
Virtually all Andorrans speak fluent French and Spanish besides their native Catalán. English is also widely understood, as is Portuguese, and foreigners make up two-thirds of the population.
In 1962, Andorra — which then had only 11,000 people — was the subject of a whimsical anti-war parody by folk singer Pete Seeger, a non-Jew who often sang in Hebrew and had visited Israel several times. It was around that time that Jews started trickling into Andorra again — this time from Morocco, by way of Spain.
Isaac Benchluch Ayach, a former physical education professor, is now the principal of a high school, the Escola Andorrana de Sant Julia. He’s also president of the local Jewish community.
“The Jews were in Morocco for almost 500 years, but when the state of Israel was established, problems began. My mom was threatened several times by her Muslim neighbors,” said Benchluch, explaining that his parents left for Barcelona with the idea of making some money and then emigrating to the United States.
But in Barcelona, he said, they heard that Andorra was looking for workers, so they came here. In the 1960s, local officials, hoping to transform the country from a poor farming nation to a tourism and banking hub, began developing ski resorts and building up the transport network.
Today, Andorra is an easy, three-hour drive from either Toulouse or Barcelona. In 2023, it attracted 10.2 million tourists, and thanks to strict immigration controls at the French and Spanish borders, it boasts very little crime, zero unemployment and virtually no homelessness.
Unlike most European destinations, Andorra has no sites of Jewish interest. It does, however, offer majestic mountain panoramas, dozens of medieval churches, quaint cobblestone streets, a network of hiking trails and a national automobile museum with 80 vintage cars on display.
Although it uses the euro as its currency, Andorra isn’t part of the European Union, meaning that the liquors, perfumes, cigarettes and electronics stocked in its many duty-free shops are far cheaper than in neighboring countries.
Baruj and Miriam Rodríguez, both 62, are pillars of Andorra’s Jewish community, most of whose members work in the import-export or retail industries.
“My parents are from Andalucia. During the Spanish Civil War, they escaped and came to Andorra for political reasons since my father was a communist,” said Baruj, a pharmacist and a convert to Judaism. “But practically 100% of this community is from Morocco, mostly from the city of Larache.”
Added Miriam, an immigrant from Casablanca who spent two years on a kibbutz in Israel before settling here: “For the moment, there is no antisemitism in Andorra. Sometimes they ask questions and make faces, but people here don’t really know anything about Judaism.”
Likewise, Israelis are ignorant about Andorra, said Miriam, recalling an incident several decades ago when immigration officials at Tel Aviv’s Ben-Gurion Airport questioned her Andorran passport.
“They didn’t know where Andorra was, and had to look for it on a map,” she said. “Another time, I tried calling my mom from Israel and the operator thought I said ‘Honduras.’”
In 1998, local Jews formed the Associació Cultural Israelita de les Valls d’Andorra, or ACIV, in a large meeting hall tucked away on an underground level of a medical office building that used to be a warehouse.
“It’s not technically a synagogue, because that would be prohibited,” said Baruj, citing Andorran regulations that forbid the consecration of any non-Catholic house of worship. “Before this, we used a private home with a second-floor view. But that was too obvious, so we chose this site.”
There are no outside markings at the entrance to ACIV — not even a mezuzah — only a small label above the buzzer. Inside, however, is a space large enough for 150 people, complete with Jewish prayer books, a large memorial wall, a silver menorah and an ark containing three donated Torah scrolls including one from Gibraltar.
When ACIV was established, Andorra was home to around 120 Jews. Since then, 15 of its founding members have died, and many younger congregants have left for Paris; the nearest synagogue to Andorra is a Chabad Lubavitch center in Barcelona.
“Every Shabbat we try to get a minyan, but it’s very difficult,” Baruj Rodriguez said, noting that as time goes on, fewer and fewer people attend — particularly in the summer, when most Jews are on vacation.
One reason, said Miriam, is that “the young people are marrying late, and then they leave. There are no Jews here between the ages of 13 and 30. The good jobs are abroad, and they generally don’t want to intermarry.”
Baruj Rodríguez said that he and 82-year-old Meir Muyal are the only Jews in Andorra who still keep kosher. The country has never had its own rabbi, though for the High Holidays, the congregation brings rabbis from Toulouse or Paris.
Benchluch, the community president, has four children: Malka, Meir, Yosef and Nathaël. His Catholic-born wife, Lidia, converted to Judaism under the supervision of two Orthodox rabbis in Barcelona.
“There’s no mikvah here, so she had to do it there,” he said, explaining that mohels must be brought from either Toulouse or Barcelona to perform the occasional circumcision. “Andorra has no kosher restaurants, and Catalán cuisine is all about pork. It’s very hard to live as a Jew here.”
Dying as a Jew in Andorra is also problematic. Due to limited space, most Andorrans are cremated — no problem for Catholics, but traditionally a taboo in Judaism. Yet because Andorra lacks a Jewish cemetery, local Jews generally opt to be buried in either Toulouse or Barcelona.
However, that may soon change, said Benchluch.
“After 20 years of just talking about it, we’re now negotiating with the government to establish a Jewish cemetery in 2025 or 2026,” he said. “Land is very expensive, so we’re asking them to give us a plot of land in Escaldes for 100 graves.”
Things are gradually changing politically, too. About a year ago, Benchluch’s brother, Salomó, was elected to Andorra’s 28-member parliament — becoming the first Jewish legislator in Andorran history.
Spain, Ireland and Norway recently formally recognized Palestine in an effort to pressure Israel over its war against Hamas. In France, the leftist leader Jean-Luc Mélenchon announced he’d immediately push to recognize a Palestinian state after his party’s strong electoral showing.
Bucking that European trend, Andorran Foreign Minister Imma Tor declared in mid-June that Andorra would do no such thing.
“The conditions are not met for us to recognize Palestine as a state. We think it’s not yet the right time to position ourselves in the middle of this conflict,” she said, adding that “with Israel, we have a relationship of rapprochement, and we’re receiving more and more tourists from there.”
JTA asked Muyal, the oldest Jew in Andorra, if he’d ever given any thought to moving to Israel, as so many other Moroccan Jews did.
“No,” he replied without hesitation. “Aside from the difficulties of being a Jew, I’m very happy here. This is a wonderful country.”
