Out of Sight, Yet Still On the Mind:

 

Lebanon’s dwindling Jewish community is not a recent development, yet it has been reported on like a fascinating phenomenon for years. The once-bustling Jewish quarter in Beirut, Wadi Abu Jamil, is a mere memory. The Magen Abraham Synagogue, built in the district in 1925, now stands abandoned as a silent witness to a bygone era. Only a few dozen members of the Jewish community remain in Beirut, and even fewer are known to the public. In 2019, Liza Srour, one of the last residents of the Jewish quarter, passed away. Last year, the community lost one of its last known members, the art critic and journalist Joseph Tarrab, who refused to leave Lebanon and remained until his death on January 1, 2025.

 

The majority of Lebanese Jews are descendants of the Jews of Syrian origin, and many came from Iraq, Iran, Turkey, and Greece to settle in Lebanon. A recent book reopens the conversation on Lebanon’s Jews, shining a light on the community that seemed to disappear from Lebanon’s streets overnight. Writer and journalist Nada Abdelsamad’s “When the Lights on the Jews’ Balconies in Wadi Abu Jamil Went Dark” (Riyad El-Rayyes Books, 2025) is a revised edition of her first book, “Wadi Abu Jamil: Stories of the Jews of Beirut,” originally published in 2009. Abdelsamad, a BBC journalist, has frequently revisited the topic throughout the years. Her 2010 documentary “The Jews of Lebanon: Loyalty to Whom?” was also based on her first book, delving into the history of the Lebanese Jewish minority, most of whom emigrated from the country. In an interview with Asharq al-Awsat, as cited by Christine Habib, Abdelsamad explains that the latest edition is a continuation of the first volume, completed with the assistance of a team of researchers.* The second edition includes modifications, omissions, rearranged sections, new stories, and information that was not present in the older version. According to Saqr Abu Fakhr in Al Araby, “When the Lights on the Jews’ Balconies in Wadi Abu Jamil Went Dark” is less a history book and more an anecdotal collection of stories and oral histories from the Jews that once lived in Lebanon, specifically the Wadi Abu Jamil neighborhood.**

 

Abdelsamad emphasizes that the book “is not a platform for expressing political opinions; rather, it is a documentation of the stories of ordinary people who spoke Arabic and were part of the history and social fabric of one of Beirut’s neighborhoods, Wadi Abu Jamil,” quotes Habib. Abbas Beydoun writes in his essay, “Nada Abdelsamad and the Stories of the Jews of Beirut,” published in Al Araby, “What is striking about Nada Abdelsamad's work is its departure from the style of academic research and its embrace of a narrative approach. The book brings to life the people of the valley, one by one, almost like a collection of short stories, deliberately adopting a literary style rather than a purely academic one.”***

 

The book follows a narrative style, recounting the stories of the Jews who once lived in the heart of Beirut as remembered by their neighbors, friends, and acquaintances, before wars and emigration scattered them. Many Syrian and Lebanese Jews mysteriously vanished from their homes overnight, smuggled to Israel in secretive operations. Nada Abdelsamad’s book confirms accounts of young Jewish men who left the neighborhood at different times and returned later with the Israeli army when its forces invaded Beirut in September 1982. In fact, some of the individuals mentioned in the original 2009 book complete their stories in this revised edition. Abdelsamad tells Habib in Asharq al-Awsat, “It was essential for me to complete the story of Marco Mizrahi, for example, a key character in the first part.” Marco Mizrahi, born in Beirut to a Jewish father and a Christian mother, left the country with his family in 1970. The family’s whereabouts were unknown until Marco returned to Beirut during the invasion, visiting his former neighbors as a soldier in the Israeli army.

 

Abdelsamad also tells the story of Shulamit “Shula” Kishik-Cohen, a Lebanese Jewish woman who lived in Wadi Abu Jamil and was famous for being an Israeli spy who smuggled Arab Jews into Israel. Married to a textile merchant in Lebanon, she was able to contact a merchant from the border town of Al-Adaysah who relayed messages to the nearby settlement of Misgav Am of her willingness to cooperate in smuggling Jews. Shula was arrested by Lebanese intelligence in 1961 on charges of spying for the Mossad and smuggling Jews to Israel with the help of the Maccabi Zionist youth movement and Bnei Zion organization, according to Abu Fakhr. Originally sentenced to death, she was released in 1967 in a prisoner exchange.

 

Though “When the Lights on the Jews’ Balconies in Wadi Abu Jamil Went Dark” remains a valuable resource, Saqr Abu Fakhr points out numerous discrepancies in Abdelsamad’s book, which is surprising given that it is a revised edition. These errors range from incorrect spellings of names to more glaring errors — incorrect historical dates, mentions of the wrong holidays, or incorrect descriptions of them, and even incorrect references. For example, Abdelsamad writes on page 305 of her book, “The Jews are God’s chosen people[...]. As for the rest of the nations, they are Goyim, meaning animal souls in human bodies.” Abu Fakhr notes that the account of animal souls is a Talmudic addition and bears no relation to the meaning of the term “goyim,” which denotes non-Jews.

 

Since the community’s departure from the country, numerous books have sought to explore the history of Lebanon’s Jewish population. The topic remains a point of fascination among both scholars and emigrants. According to Abu Fakhr, Jewish emigrants’ memories of the era before the establishment of the State of Israel “were always tinged with anxiety, turmoil, and uncertainty about their fate.”

 

In his essay “The Story of ‘Lebanon’s Jews’: Where Are They Now, and Do They Still Have a Real Presence?”, Mohammad al-Jenoun examines several publications relating to the topic, including findings published by the non-profit organization JIMENA, Kirsten E. Schulze’s “The Jews of Lebanon: Between Coexistence and Conflict (1st ed. 2001, 2nd ed. 2009), and “Conflict, Diplomacy, and Society in Israeli-Lebanese Relations” (2010), edited by Efraim Karsh, Michael Kerr, and Rory Miller.****

 

JIMENA, or the “Jews Indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa,” is a California-based non-profit organization dedicated to the preservation of Mizrahi and Sephardi culture and history. The group’s mission, according to their website, is to seek recognition for the nearly one million Jews indigenous to the Middle East and North Africa who were displaced from their country of origin in the 20th century.

 

The relationship between Lebanon’s Jews and the land can be traced back to ancient times. JIMENA reports find that Jewish communities have been settled in Lebanon since biblical times, particularly near what is now Beirut, cites Jenoun. He adds that historians have traced Jewish settlement in Baalbek to 922 AD, in Tyre to 1140 AD, and in Sidon to 1522 AD. By 1911, the Jewish community expanded and wielded considerable influence in Lebanon, writes Jenoun. 

 

The Jewish community in Lebanon is officially recognized as one of the 18 religious communities in the country, its members referred to as Israelites or the “Israeli community.” Though the name may be misleading, the community is comprised of Lebanese citizens of Jewish faith who have no connection to the State of Israel. Mohammed Houjeiri cites former Minister Ziad Baroud in Al Modon, who explains that the name dates back to 1936, under the French Mandate, when the French High Commissioner issued Decree No. 60 LR, officially recognizing the Jewish community as the Israeli community.***** At the time, the name came from the translation of the name of the Prophet Jacob, son of Isaac, from French to Arabic as ‘Israel.’ 

 

The Lebanese Jewish community has occupied an ambiguous position in Lebanese history, receiving little attention in studies of the state and society. According to the book “The Jews of Lebanon: Between Coexistence and Conflict” by Kirsten E. Schulze, Jews were rarely represented in the Lebanese government as “they did not promote a political project of their own, but rather shared a vision of Lebanon as an independent, multi-confessional Eastern state,” writes Jenoun. At the same time, he adds that relations between the community and the Lebanese government were friendly. High-ranking officials, such as the President, Prime Minister, and Speaker of Parliament, were regularly invited to Jewish holiday receptions. During the Passover celebrations in 1951, Lebanese officials Sami Solh, Abdullah Yafi, Rashid Baydoun, Joseph Chader, Charles Helou, and the Maronite Archbishop of Beirut attended a reception at Magen Abraham Synagogue, hosted by the head of the Lebanese Jewish community, Joseph Attieh, as cited by Schulze.

 

The community experienced rising tension leading up to the 1948 war. From 1938 to 1948, several bombings in Wadi Abu Jamil shook up the Jewish quarter, leading to property damage and inciting violent attacks against Jewish residents. These attacks were spurred by tensions surrounding the UN’s partition plan for Palestine and rumors of Zionist connections to a weapons cache discovered in the Jewish district. After the 1948 war, however, relations between the communities returned to their previous friendly nature, according to “Conflict, Diplomacy and Society in Israeli-Lebanese Relations," edited by Efraim Karsh, Michael Kerr, and Rory Miller. The Jewish community flourished — Lebanon became a destination for many Jews fleeing from Syria, Iraq, and Iran, leading to a population increase from 5,200 to 9,000 in 1950 and reaching a peak of 14,000 by 1958. In the words of Abbas Beydoun, these Jews likely chose Lebanon because “they were not subject to surveillance, suspicion, or scrutiny in Lebanon; the Lebanese state did not target them. In fact, some of them had influential connections within official circles and held minor positions in these circles.”

 

During the 1958 Lebanese crisis, which pitted Muslims against Christians, some Jewish families relocated from Beirut to Keserwan, but most remained under the protection of the Christian Lebanese Kataeb Party, states Schulze. However, this year marked a turning point for Syrian and Iraqi Jewish refugees, who left Lebanon. The Jewish community shrank from 14,000 to 6,000 over the following decade. The 1967 war marked a turning point for Lebanese Jews as a whole. Schulze states, “Until that year, the Jewish community in Lebanon enjoyed a relatively high status, but after the war, the community practically disappeared from public life.” Many Lebanese Jews emigrated, and approximately half of the community — about 3,000 people — left the country between August 1967 and 1970. Many emigrated to Israel with the assistance and coordination of the Mossad, which secretly arranged their sea transport, while others left for the West and Latin America.

 

The community persevered in Lebanon until 1975, when conditions deteriorated significantly with the outbreak of the 15-year civil war that lasted until 1990. Jewish infrastructure in Beirut was destroyed, synagogues and Jewish schools were closed, and the increasing Syrian military presence and influence in Lebanon forced most of the remaining 1,800 Jews to flee the country, states JIMENA. Schulze adds that these conditions, on top of the severe restrictions imposed on economic activity, led the Jewish community’s population to drop to 450-1000 in 1978. By 1980, this number decreased to 200-300, with only 20 Jews remaining in Beirut. Today, the numbers are (approximately) between 20 and 100 Jews in the entirety of Lebanon.

 

As the Lebanese Jewish community continues to fade into a mere memory, a recent trend of nostalgia among Arab Jews for their former homelands has surfaced. Saqr Abu Fakhr addresses how these emigrant Jews long for Damascus, Aleppo, Baghdad, Cairo, and Beirut, stating, “It remains unclear what exactly motivates this renewed nostalgia among Jews for their now-empty neighborhoods in Arab capitals, which have become like faded tattoos on the back of a hand.”

 

Though vastly understudied, this displaced community has frequently attracted researchers, filmmakers, and journalists, with numerous publications — not just academic but also fictional — focusing on them. The Lebanese Jews who emigrated to Israel did so in a silent exodus, never contacting any of their former acquaintances or neighbors again. Due to the far and few accounts that have emerged over the years, authors have taken to writing fabricated reports, fictional tales and adventures, and writings reminiscing Wadi Abu Jamil during its peak, according to Houjeiri, who adds, “This is because Lebanese Jews were forced to go into hiding, particularly since the 1967 war, and the civil war exacerbated the situation, turning everything into a free-for-all.” 

 

Still, such fictional works offer a glimpse — some even stemming from the realities — of the lives Lebanese Jews led before their departure. Books like “Jakovah: Daughter of the Jewish House” (Al Dar Al Ahlia Publishing and Distributing, 2023) by Raja Naameh explore the story of a Jewish family in the aftermath of the 1967 war, leading into the Lebanese Civil War. French-Lebanese novelist Selim Nassib’s semi-autobiographical novel “The Tumult” (L’Olivier, 2022) follows the story of Youssef Hosni (Nassib’s alter ego). Beginning in the 1950s, the novel touches on the lives and hardships of Beirut’s Jewish community up until the early 1980s, many of whom “had come to the city from neighboring countries and dared not apply for Lebanese citizenship for fear of drawing attention to their legal status and risking forced deportation,” writes Antoine Jouki in Independent Arabia.****** The Jews of Lebanon have disappeared, yet their absence continues to occupy a large presence in the minds of scholars, authors, and former Jewish emigrants alike.