To the Manor Born

There’s a certain pleasure in interviewing someone who inhabits a role they long desired, and for which they feel uniquely prepared. Much is made of  “impostor syndrome” — the sensation many claim to experience when they find themselves in a role they feel they do not deserve. That confession often carries a certain charm, even a hint of humility. But there is a different kind of satisfaction in speaking with someone who feels entirely at ease in his role and sees no need to hide it.

At 64, Ezra Cohen is visibly pleased to be Panama’s ambassador. He is confident that he is the right person for the job, and he makes no attempt to disguise his happiness. The sense that Cohen was a natural choice was widely shared by the small, yet influential, Jewish community of Panama. Indeed, when advisors to Panama’s newly elected president, José Raúl Mulino Quintero, asked whom they should appoint to strengthen ties between Panama and Israel, all paths led to Ezra Cohen.

Sitting at a café in Jerusalem, just steps from his residence, Cohen recalls his first meeting with the president.

“I knew him from formal community events, but we didn’t have a personal relationship,” he says. “Then one day, I received an invitation to a meeting. My wife and I thought, well, there’s a chance something might come of it, but we figured it would take time, that there’d be a process.” Cohen chuckles. “Five minutes into the meeting, he said, ‘I want you in Israel in three weeks!’ Imagine that. I left the meeting on fire.”

It’s true that Cohen isn’t a career diplomat. But his nine-year tenure as executive director of Panama’s Shevet Ahim Jewish community, he says, was the ideal preparation for his current role.

“That was my training ground for the embassy,” he explains.

To understand why, one needs to grasp  how Panama’s Jewish community operates. By the numbers, it may seem modest: just 15,000 Jews in a country of a little over four million people. But what Panama’s Jewish community lacks in size, it more than makes up for in economic success and entrepreneurial reach. There is an exercise any reader might try: Scan the donor list for your favorite yeshivah or Jewish institution. Chances are you’ll find a Panamanian on the list. And, if it’s a Sephardic institution, that Panamanian is probably among the top five contributors.

Such remarkable generosity has necessitated a degree of regulation, to prevent opportunists from taking advantage — a problem not uncommon in Jewish communities around the world. One of the first steps in securing a donation or partnership was often a meeting with Ezra Cohen. This gave him a front-row seat to the inner workings of Jewish philanthropic networks, as well as the opportunity to meet directors of Jewish organizations in Israel, politicians, and, of course, roshei yeshivah.

“I received everyone who came from Israel,” Cohen says. “Government officials, business people, army officers, public figures — and an endless stream of rabbis. I was the first door they knocked on.”

These encounters became his gateway to the world of Panama-Israel relations at the communal level. “So when the president started looking for an ambassador, all the recommendations pointed in my direction.”

Beyond Good Connections

For all of Ambassador Ezra Cohen’s valuable connections, there is a fundamental question that lingers: What kind of relationship can Panama and Israel really have? These are, after all, two small nations. It takes a stretch of the imagination to picture serious bilateral relations between them.

But when Cohen explains what Panama has to offer Israelis, he doesn’t hesitate. Cohen wants Israelis to “consume” Panama — wants them to consider it not just an exotic name but a tangible, desirable destination. His tone is part salesman, part cultural ambassador, part historian.

“Last year, 280,000 Israeli tourists traveled to Thailand,” Cohen says. “Thailand may have beautiful beaches — but that’s about all it offers. Panama, on the other hand, not only has gorgeous beaches, it also has a vibrant Jewish life. We have 46 kosher restaurants, the largest kosher supermarket in the world, and a Jewish history that dates back to 1512, when the first Jew arrived in Panama.”

But beyond Panama’s “material” virtues for Jewish tourists lies something even more essential — something that, in these times, is priceless: security.

“There are many reasons an Israeli traveler would feel comfortable in Panama,” Cohen says. “But today, above all, Israelis are looking for a place where they can travel and feel safe. Panama offers that. In Panama, you can walk down the street wearing a kippah and no one will attack you. No one will hurl insults at you. There’s not even a note of anti-Semitism.”

In exchange for offering that haven, Panama is looking to Israel for something of its own: technology and security.

“For President Mulino, the relationship with Israel is a priority,” Cohen explains. “We should remember that the president previously served as minister of security, and during that time he built strong ties with Israel — he received a lot of advice and guidance from Israelis.”

Now, Cohen says, Panama is in urgent need of Israeli expertise. “We need technology. We need experience in water management. We need to maximize every square meter of arable land to increase agricultural production. Israel has the technology. It has the ideology. It’s a country that, out of necessity, invents and innovates. And once they solve their problems, they commercialize those solutions. I believe Panama has a great deal to learn, and we can cooperate with Israel to bring those technologies home.”

Strong Foundations

One of the most remarkable aspects of Panama’s Jewish community — something Cohen returns to again and again — is its extraordinary cohesiveness. Its institutions are not only stable but flourishing. More and more young people from Panama are traveling to study in yeshivos in Israel and the United States. Many newly married couples even choose to spend their first years together living in Israel, immersing themselves in a life centered around Torah before eventually returning to their home country. At the heart of this vitality, Cohen says, is one man whose name comes up frequently in conversation: Rav Zion Levy.

Rav Levy was the spiritual leader and unifying figure of Panama’s Jewish community for an astonishing 56 years. Four of those years overlapped with Cohen’s tenure in communal leadership, allowing him to observe the rabbi up close.

“Rav Levy’s wisdom was extraordinary,” Cohen says. “You could consult him on anything, and his answers were always unexpected — yet based on such solid foundations that there was no arguing with them.”

According to Cohen, it was Rav Levy’s singular leadership that laid the groundwork for the community’s success. “What Rav Levy built was a strong foundation — based on the principle that we have one leader,” Cohen explains. “When you have one leader, you have unity. When you have many leaders, or many congregations, you lose that unity. That’s the advantage Panama has.”

Today, more than 70 percent of Panama’s Jews — whether observant or not — are affiliated with institutions that fall under the umbrella of Shevet Ahim, the central communal organization.

And while filling Rav Levy’s shoes hasn’t been easy, for the past several years the community’s spiritual leadership has been in the hands of Rabbi David Perets — a man Cohen knows well.

“Today, Rabbi Perets is the leader for everyone, even those who aren’t religious,” Cohen says. “At the end of the day, everything comes to the rabbi — even commercial matters end up in the beit din.”

Cohen recalls their years working side by side. “Rav Perets and I started working together the same month, nine years ago,” he says. “We used to meet every day. We worked in such a way that Rav Perets would dream something up, and it was my job to make that dream a reality. When this opportunity for me to become ambassador came along, of course I consulted him. And he told me, ‘There’s no better person for the job than you — even though it will hurt me to let you go.’ ”

One of the wisest decisions Panama’s Jewish community has ever made, Cohen believes, was to extend its generosity beyond its own walls — to embrace the broader Panamanian society, regardless of religion. That generosity, he says, has earned the Jewish community genuine respect and, by extension, fostered a positive image of Israel.

“The Jewish community of Panama is incredibly vibrant in the economic world,” Cohen says. “We’re involved in many industries and we employ a huge number of Panamanians.”

That economic presence, he explains, has led naturally to widespread philanthropic involvement throughout the country.

“And that has shaped the way the average Panamanian views Israel — and the Jewish People. We always strive to keep the name of the Jewish People held high in Panama,” Cohen says. “And Panamanians know that.”

Closing the Circle

For Ezra Cohen, arriving at Panama’s embassy in Israel is about more than personal satisfaction or a sense of professional accomplishment. It carries a far deeper meaning — one that, in his own words, “closes a circle” in his family’s history.

Although he once served as the director of Panama’s Jewish community, it would be fair to say that Cohen doesn’t fit the classic profile of a Panamanian Jew. Typically, Panama’s Jews are of Syrian descent, and their families arrived in the country two generations ago. Ezra Cohen’s story is markedly different.

“My father alav hashalom fought in Israel’s War of Independence in 1948,” Cohen says, the pride evident in his voice .

His father, Moshe Cohen, was captured by the Jordanians in Jerusalem’s Old City during the fighting. He spent nine long months as a prisoner in Jordan.

“Later,” Cohen explains, “he was released in a prisoner exchange — Israel traded one hundred Jordanians for him. The world hasn’t changed much, has it?”

After Moshe Cohen regained his freedom, he returned home and told his mother he wanted to take a vacation. He was looking for a country that met two simple criteria: no war, and no winter. His destination? Panama.

After working there for a few months, Moshe decided it was time to settle down. He returned to Israel, where he met Yedida, his brother’s secretary. They married, spent three months in Israel, and then moved back to Panama.

“My mother’s still there,” Cohen adds with a smile.

Ezra grew up in what he calls a “traditional” Jewish home. It wasn’t until he was 28 that he embraced a more observant lifestyle.

“At that time, there were around 2,000 Jews in Panama,” Cohen recalls. “But only about ten families were shomrei Shabbat.”

He credits much of the community’s religious growth to Rabbi Zion Levy.

“He was patient,” Cohen says. “He knew how to guide the traditional families. Thanks to him, we have this beautiful kehillah today. It’s all because of the strong foundation he built.”

That decision — to draw closer to his Jewish roots — allowed Ezra Cohen to raise a family deeply committed to Torah. One of his grandchildren is now studying in a yeshivah in Israel. Yet, he adds, there’s something characteristically Panamanian about always finding a way back home. “We Panamanians can spend years studying abroad, but we always return.”

Even so, leaving Panama at age 64 wasn’t simple — especially with his elderly mother still living there.

“Panama is a very comfortable place,” Cohen admits. “Most of my grandchildren are there. You’d think it would be hard to leave. But my wife and I are happy here. She loves Israel, and she helps me a lot with my work at the embassy. Israel is a beautiful place to live.”

For his mother, however, the move was more difficult. “It’s been especially hard for her because I was the one who took care of all her personal matters. I visited her every day. But she made the sacrifice. She let me go because she knew how much this role would mean to me.”

Even in Jerusalem, Cohen remains closely connected to his community back home. “I’m constantly getting calls from parents whose kids are studying here in Israel,” he says. “ ‘How’s my son doing?’ they ask. ‘Is he okay?’ I know these families well. I know the boys too. I’ve known many of them since they were little! Just two weeks ago, we had 14 bochurim over for Shabbat lunch. It was wonderful.”

Reflecting on his family’s journey, Cohen says he can feel how the circle has closed.

“When we arrived here,” he recalls, “I rented a house from a Panamanian friend. On our first morning, I got up at six and went out to daven. A neighbor who was also heading to shul offered me a ride. After the tefillah, I realized the synagogue seemed familiar. So I called my mother and asked her, ‘What was the name of the shul where you told me Grandpa Ezra used to pray?’

“She said, ‘Yagel Yaakov.’

“My neighbor overheard and said, ‘Yagel Yaakov? That’s the shul right across the street!’

“That’s when I understood: My father left Israel 70 years ago, tired of the war and the winter, and found refuge in Panama. Seventy years later, I came back, during a war, in the middle of winter, to represent Panama — the country my father had left to in the country he once called home. I’ve come to close the circle my father began.”

A Different October

he tragedy of October 7 reverberated not only throughout Israel but across Jewish communities worldwide. Images of pro-Hamas marches in cities like London, New York, and Paris spread quickly, a grim reminder that anti-Semitism remains deeply rooted around the globe. But what impact did October 7 have in Panama?

“Panamanians are peaceful people,” Cohen explains. “Sure, someone might have posted something on social media, and there were a few demonstrations — but they never had more than 20 people. Panamanians know that Israel and the Jewish People always strive for peace, always look for ways to help. They’ve seen it firsthand in our community back home. The Jewish community in Panama contributes a great deal to society. They know that, and thanks to G-d, we’ve always had a good relationship. We’re considered an integral part of Panamanian society.”

Cohen even points to a place called Playa Venado, where about 250 Israeli surfers live year-round.

“On October 8,” he says, “they all went back to Israel to serve in the army.”

That sense of comfort and acceptance has not gone unnoticed. Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu has visited Panama on multiple occasions.

“Israel knows how much support it has from the Panamanian community,” Cohen says. “For example, Friends of the IDF only has two international chapters — one in the United States and one in Panama.”

At a time when aligning with Israel can come with serious political costs, Cohen believes his own appointment as ambassador is a powerful gesture of solidarity. “Panama sent a Jewish, religious ambassador to Israel during one of the most difficult periods in our history. That’s a clear statement: Panama stands with Israel in hard times.”

On the US Front

Anyone stepping into the world of diplomacy must be prepared to navigate the occasional bilateral conflict. But surely nothing can fully ready a diplomat for the whirlwind that is Donald Trump. The US president’s harsh remarks about the need to “take back” the Panama Canal sent shockwaves through the small Central American nation.

Panama’s president, Raúl Mulino, responded firmly to the accusations leveled by his American counterpart, stating, “The Panama Canal is not in the process of being recovered, nor has this been discussed in any of our conversations with Secretary of State Marco Rubio or any other US official. The Canal is Panamanian and will remain Panamanian.”

Ambassador Ezra Cohen, evidently well-trained in the delicate art of defusing tense situations — perhaps honed during his years navigating the complexities within Panama’s Jewish community — stepped in to calm the waters.

“Panama and the United States share a historic bond,” Cohen explains, his tone measured. “We’ve always enjoyed excellent relations. President Trump has shown particular interest in Panama, and in fact, Secretary of State Marco Rubio’s first official trip was to our country. That demonstrates the United States’ willingness to strengthen ties.”

Still, Cohen is candid about the past. “We can’t forget that for five years, the US didn’t even have an ambassador in Panama. The relationship existed, of course, but it was clear that Panama wasn’t a priority for that administration. As a result, American investors lost interest, and other investors — those more attuned to Panama’s opportunities — stepped in.”

As far as the Trump administration is concerned, those “other investors” are not neutral actors. Massive investments from China as part of the latter’s Belt and Road Initiative — a far-reaching effort to project economic and strategic power — have crossed the line. They contravene the Monroe Doctrine, America’s long-standing policy designating Central and South America as verboten for foreign powers. Served notice by President Trump, Panama fell into line quickly and terminated its contracts with China.

Cohen thinks the contretemps is over. “I’m confident that Panama is fully committed to resolving this issue, just as the United States is. These conversations will happen, and we’re optimistic they’ll reach a positive outcome.”

By now, night has fallen over Jerusalem, and it’s time for Maariv. The ambassador is free now to walk to the synagogue where his grandfather once prayed — closing a circle not only for his family, but also for his own life story, which has remained, throughout, in service to the Panamanian Jewish community.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1055)