In the early 1800s, many Moroccan descendants of the original Portuguese exiles started to emigrate to the Azores. One notable family was the Bensaude family, renowned for their many philanthropic endeavors, which included the purchase of fields on each island to serve as Jewish cemeteries.

Jews did well in the Azores, much to the distaste of their gentile neighbors. Many of the Azores’s infrastructure and institutions were created by their Jewish residents (included SATA airlines and the Bensaude chain of hotels). However, as Europe, Israel, and America became viable relocation options, many residents began to move. Those who remained intermarried, and in the late 1950s the shul and community infrastructure fell into disrepair.

Interest in the Azorean Jews picked up in the late 20th century, when in 1997, a few children on São Miguel found a sefer Torah hidden in a cave. In 2009, the Jewish community of Lisbon, Portugal, signed a 99-year lease on the Shaar Hashamayim  shul with the government of São Miguel, hoping to preserve it.

Fading Memories

In 2015, the Lisbon Jewish community commissioned a local Christian historian named José de Mello to renovate and restore the shul, as well as turn the former social hall into a museum featuring the Jewish religious life that once existed in the Azores. Sifting through the debris and detritus left inside the building over the centuries, Mr. Mello (who wears a yarmulke whenever he’s on shul property out of respect) uncovered many tashmishei kedushah during the restoration — old siddurim and seforim, tefillin, tzitzis, and at least three sifrei Torah. He preserved many of these items behind glass, and waited for Jewish visitors.

He was disappointed at the lack of interest; of the few visitors, the majority were secular Jews who only displayed historical interest — not the religious, emotional connection Mr. Mello anticipated. So when I reached out to him to see if he could open the building ahead of visiting hours for us to visit, he was thrilled.

Upon entering the museum, behind the sign-in desk holding the pamphlets, is a mikveh (complete with water) with signs explaining the point of the “ritualistic bath.” The narrow steps upstairs lead to the remains of a community lost to time and anti-Semitism, with bris paraphernalia, talleisim, menorahs, Kiddush cups, and old kosher wine bottles displayed behind glass. Placards are hung near all the walls — cold and clinical. My wife said that this museum made her think of the “Jewish Museum” that Hitler had planned — displaying the forgotten remnants of an extinct nation. In contrast, though, Mr. Mello’s sincerity and love is evident.

The shul is simple, but spectacular. In true Portuguese fashion, the walls are a dark but vibrant blue, with pews facing where the bimah would be. The aron kodesh holds three sifrei Torah, as well as a 100-year-old Shas that was printed specifically for the community.

As I still hadn’t davened Shacharis, I asked Mr. Mello if he would mind if I prayed, and he was enthusiastically agreed. While I pulled out my tallis and tefillin, my wife sat down with a Tehillim. A few minutes later, she let out a cry. She noticed that the pews had hinges on them and lifted the bench she was using to discover that she was sitting on a siddur. In an effort to give the shul a personal touch, Mr. Mello had set the sifrei Tehillim, siddurim, tefillin, and talleisim of the congregants inside their old, labeled seats. My wife stood for the rest of the visit.

The shul was still and solemn, with a heavy presence. It was one of the most meaningful tefillos I ever experienced, and I think back to it often.

According to Mr. Mello, this was the first real “Orthodox prayer service” held in the shul for over half a century. All three of us were really moved by the experience, and I only discovered later that Mr. Mello was photographing my entire Shacharis. He included the photos in a book published about the shul and religious life on the island. The visit to Shaar Hashamayim was a last-minute addition to our trip, but ended up being one of its emotional high points.

One of the Herd

São Miguel’s environment is optimal for raising cows; its volcanic soil provides rich nutrient for feed, and its stable climate allows for year-round grazing. In fact, the Azores is Nestle’s primary source for Europe’s dairy products. Cows outnumber people two to one here, a phenomenon that becomes obvious every evening when the wind shifts the wrong way. (Nothing accentuates a beachside BBQ like a manure-scented breeze. Not recommended.) There are many bovine tourist experiences, from dairy farm tours to cow milking, but the most famous is Airbnb’s Cow House vacation rental, for those who want to feel like one of the herd.

Visitors to São Miguel will notice plenty of rooster iconography, tchotchkes, and tattoos. The legend of the Rooster of Barcelos is a huge part of the local culture. As the story goes, a traveler making his way through Barcelos, Portugal, was wrongfully accused of theft and sentenced to a swift hanging. Before his execution, the man swore his innocence and prophesied that a roasted rooster on the judge’s lunch table would prove his innocence by crowing. Miraculously, after the traveler was already standing on the gallows, the roasted rooster stood up and crowed, prompting the judge to rush to the scaffold and halt the execution.

While local lore is not clear on whether the story happened in Portugal or Spain, its authenticity isn’t up for debate here, and the rooster has become the symbol of justice in Portugal and the Azores.

Fire and Water

We spent the rest of our time on São Miguel exploring its breathtaking scenery. São Miguel is known as the Green Island because of its rolling hills and pastures, tea plantations (the only ones in all of Europe) and its lush hydrangea-lined roads. They’re a shade of blue that you would be hard-pressed to find in the States.

Lagoa do Fogo (Lake of Fire) is a crater lake in the center of the island. It’s located in a caldera, a large bowl-shaped volcanic depression formed when a volcano collapses inward after an eruption. This particular volcano is the youngest on the island and its last eruption was in 1563. It’s near Furnas, an area of the island filled with natural hot springs.

The lake is stunning, and São Miguel owes its reputation as the Hawaii of Europe to the dense vegetation and dramatic brush cliffs that can be seen at Fogo.

Soon enough we were on our way to Sete Cidades (the Twin Lakes), Portugal’s most famous tourist spot, featuring a lake in two colors — green and blue — nestled inside a massive volcanic crater. Lagoa Verde (the green side) and Lagoa Azul (the blue side) are separated by a narrow bridge and appear as two different colors due to varying light reflections and algae.

In the center of the crater lies the small town of Sete Cidades, home to around 800 residents. Surrounded by lush mountains and forests, it’s a peaceful, picturesque spot with a quiet charm and rich natural beauty.

If you have no concern about trespassing private property, the best view of Sete Cidades comes from the ruins of the abandoned Monte Palace hotel. Built in the ’80s to capitalize on Sao Miguel’s stunning landscapes, it closed due to lack of tourists. While it’s a bit of a climb, there are no guards that stop me from looking around.

Lingering Passion

After two days in São Miguel, we continued with the rest of our trip. But long after we returned home, I remained passionate about finding out more about the Jewish history of the Azores. I learned that there was still one Jew living there, a self-proclaimed “Last Jew on the Azores” living in São Miguel, and I toyed with the idea of returning to the island many times. When my wife surprised me with a ticket, I grabbed the opportunity.

My first stop was Terceira, another one of the Azores islands.

Home to just 53,000 and a UNESCO World Heritage site, Terceira comes from the Portuguese word meaning “three,” since it was the third of the Azores islands to be discovered and settled. In 2003, President George W. Bush and the prime ministers of Britain, Portugal, and Spain met on Terceira to discuss and plan the invasion of Iraq, which began four days later. The island is home to multiple active volcanos, one of which can be entered.

I started my trip with a visit to Algar do Carvao, a volcanic cave that proved to be one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Thanks to its unique environmental ecosystem, it’s been designated a national monument. The rock formations covered with moss and plants, the light shining into the lava tunnel, and the magnificent stalactites make it seem like a gigantic abstract painting. There’s also a stunning, turquoise-blue underground lake.

Like the rest of the Azores, cows feature prominently in the area; in fact, I got stuck in a cow traffic jam. But Terceira’s volcanic soil and ocean air is surprisingly good for viticulture, and the open fields that aren’t used for cow grazing are used as vineyards.

Another highlight of Terceira was visiting Porto Judeu (Port of the Jews), whose name has different legends behind it. Some locals claim the port was named after a boat of Jewish refugees who were caught in a storm and settled on Terceira, while the other narrative says that the first Portuguese explorers who discovered the Azores were too afraid to dock on the uninhabited island, so they threw a Jewish passenger overboard to see if he could survive the island.

For an island that no longer has a Jewish presence, the beis hachayim was surprisingly well maintained, thanks to the local island council that wants to keep religious life documented. I wasn’t able to clearly see the names on the stones since the site hasn’t been used in decades, but the name Bensaude popped up fairly often. I said some Tehillim for those who had no one to say it for them.

As I was leaving, I noticed an unlocked shed in the corner. Inside, I found a simple wooden table with a basket containing pebbles for visitors to place on the kevarim.  It was obvious that no one had been here in years, and I placed a small stone on each of the approximately 60 graves.

After that, I met with an island councilman who invited me to his office to look at some research that he did on the Jews of Terceira years ago. He showed me pictures of where the synagogue was and the rabbi’s home, all long gone.

The Last Jew

Toward the end of my trip, I received the exciting news that the self-proclaimed “last Jew of the Azores” — Jorge Delmar, who kept his Jewish mother’s surname rather than his Catholic father’s name — was willing to meet me in São Miguel’s beis hachayim. He was happy to “talk to a brother”; apparently, I was the first Jew he had met in several years. Jorge was one of a select few with keys to the Jewish cemetery, and he visits once a month to clear it up and pay his respects, despite being in his late seventies.

The beis hachayim in Ponta Delgada was larger but visually identical to Terceira’s: high walls, old stones, a silent sanctuary of the past. But unlike Terceira, some tombstones here were just monuments. Apparently, the bodies were buried elsewhere, probably on the mainland, but the families wanted a place to honor their dead among their nation. Jorge showed me his family’s section where his uncle, who died in 1990, is buried. He was the last Jew to be interred in the cemetery.

“There used to be a synagogue, a Jewish school,” Jorge told me. “Even the locals would come watch on Yom Kippur.” But only he remained. I stayed with him for as long as he was willing to talk, realizing that he was the last man alive who could share his firsthand experiences about this branch of Jewish history. He cried when he talked about seeing Shaar Hashamayim renovated, and we promised to stay in touch.

During my first visit, I noticed there were no mezuzos in the building and it bothered me a lot. When I went back, I brought a mezuzah with me. As I was leaving the shul, I asked Mr. Mello if I could put it on, explaining that it was a symbol of G-d’s constant protection. He enthusiastically agreed, and I felt deeply moved as I affixed the shul’s first mezuzah in over half a century.

The community that once lived in the Azores may have died out, but the Jewish People is still thriving under Hashem’s ever-present care and love.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1069)