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The Jews of SyriaBy Mitchell Bard1948 Jewish population: 30,000
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THE RESCUER
http://www.jewishworldreview.com/0301/rescuer.asp
In the early 1970s, 4,500 Jews were trapped in Syria, terrorized by Nazi-trained secret police. Then Judy Feld Carr, a music teacher from Toronto, began setting up an underground network to get them out. Today, only a few remain
By Norman Doidge
http://www.jewishworldreview.com -- IN 1982, Hafez zl-Assad, the Syrian dictator, put down a revolt in the city of Hama by murdering over 10,000 Syrian civilians, mostly Muslims. It was not out of character for his regime to resort to brutal violence to make a point; in the 1973 war against Israel, young Israeli soldiers caught by his troops on the Golan Heights were killed execution-style, their penises cut off and placed in their mouths. Yet, when Assad died a few months ago, President Clinton said, "I have met him many times and gotten to know him very well. . . . I always respected him." Western media ran images of Syrians wailing at their beloved leader's death-- scenes selected by Syrian state television.
But terror, not love, is the glue that ensures the Assad regime, one of the last Stalinist police states to survive the Cold War, stays in place. Syria's new president, Assad's son Bashar, is reported to have ordered the murders of hundreds of his chief rival's supporters--his chief rival being his uncle--before Assad's death.
Syria's totalitarian tragedy--the GNP is $1,160 (U.S.) per person--has, for the last thirty years, been supported by a socialist ideology, "show trials" in which prosecutors are also judges, and state-run narcoterrorism. (An estimated one-tenth of the Syrian treasury comes from heroin, crack, and hashish profits.) Squelching dissent is the job of the dreaded secret police, the Muhabarat, which, it is alleged, was trained in the practice of torture by the most important Nazi war criminal ever to evade justice, Aloïs Brünner, a favourite lieutenant of the man in charge of Hitler's Final Solution, Adolf Eichmann.
Brünner's Syrian trainees long made sure the Jews were subject to constant terror. The Muhabarat's special "Jewish Section" monitored everything they did. All synagogue services had a member of the secret police present. A mark appeared (and still appears) on the identity cards of Jews, revealing the bearer to be a "Mussawi," or follower of Moses. Jews were routinely interrogated and beaten. All of their mail was opened, and the few phones permitted to Jews were tapped. Quotas prohibited advanced education, and Jews couldn't operate a business without an Arab partner. Public-school texts denied the Holocaust had occurred. (Indeed, they still do, as does Bashar Assad's new "Syria Times" Internet site.)
On top of this, emigration was forbidden. When Jews tried to flee and were caught, they were imprisoned and tortured. If they succeeded in getting out, their family members who'd stayed behind were tortured.
Their situation seemed hopeless. Yet, in the face of this overwhelming oppression, help came from a most unlikely source: a Canadian high-school teacher, a widow and mother of three. In 1971, when Assad came to power, there were 4,500 Jews trapped in Syria. There are now about forty left. One woman got 3,218 of them out. By day she taught music in Toronto classrooms; after hours she masterminded a secret underground that reached from her Toronto home into the darkened bedrooms of Syrian generals, the windowless prisons, the pockets of border guards, and the Muhabarat itself.
A fur trader's daughter, raised in Sudbury, Ontario, she led this double life for twenty-five years. Yet few of the people she got out knew her name; she was, simply, "the woman from Canada," or "Mrs. Judy." Her real name is Judy Feld Carr. No one, except for her childhood friend Helen Cooper, who helped her, and later, the man she married, knew anything of her double life. Few knew anything at all about her remarkable story until an inspiring book about her efforts, The Ransomed of God, by the award-winning historian Harold Troper, was published in June, 1999. At the time, Feld Carr was still engaged in clandestine rescues, and many details had to be kept secret. Now, having completed her last rescue this March, she's able to reveal the full details of what she did, and what she experienced.
A fire is blazing. It's 1947, two years after the end of the Holocaust. Syrian rioters are setting fire to the ancient Aleppo synagogue. The United Nations has just voted to partition Palestine into Jewish and Arab states, and Syrian rage is unleashed on the local Jewish population. Syrian police look on as Jews are murdered. Inside the synagogue the world's oldest known manuscript of the Hebrew Bible, the Aleppo Keter, is burning.
Forty thousand Jews flee the country. Some families have lived in Syria since 586 BCE, when they came, as they now leave, in the shadow of flames. Then they were fleeing the Babylonians, who conquered ancient Jerusalem and set the Jewish Temple aflame. Some came escaping other fires: notably, the Spanish Inquisition.
By the end of 1948 the Jews remaining in Syria are prohibited from leaving. Then the noose tightens further: they are prohibited from travelling more than three kilometres from their homes without a permit, and are confined to ghettos in three cities: Damascus, Aleppo, and Qamishli.
Ten years later, in secret, the charred fragments of the Aleppo Keter, which have been scattered and hidden, are smuggled into Turkey, then into the Jewish state. Two hundred and ninety-five pages of the original 487 are reassembled from fragments with Q-tips and saliva, a process that takes seven years.
She has Bette Midler's friendly energy and Fran Drescher-like good looks. In the seventies, I visited her Toronto home to pick up an article she'd written for a student magazine I edited - her first on Syrian Jews. She was Judy Feld, a spirited musicologist. Just a year before, her husband, Dr. Ronald Feld, had died, leaving her a widow at thirty-three. One wouldn't have guessed she was grieving inside, she was such fun to listen to, describing her gutsy protests against Soviet human-rights violations. She had bright red-brown hair and a passionate voice that took some getting used to.
Now, twenty-seven years later, she is Judy Feld Carr, happily remarried, still a fireball, looking ten years younger than her sixty-one years. Her study is full of Damascene crafts, including a beaded heart with "Judy" woven into it that Elie Swed, a Syrian Jew she helped to escape, made to signal to her that he had been transferred from an underground torture chamber to Adra prison. There are photographs of many Syrian baby girls, all named "Judy." By coincidence, we meet the day after Assad has died and watch the news together.
"A news story is how it all began," she says. In 1971, Judy and her husband, Ronald, heard a report that Syrian border guards had watched quietly as twelve desperate young Jewish men died trying to escape the country. "They didn't know they were crossing a minefield. The Jews exploded one by one. After a generation of being forbidden to own cars and being confined to three cities, Jews knew little of the countryside, let alone borders."
The Felds wanted to help, but there were no Canadian groups advocating for Syrian Jews, a community sealed off from the rest of the world. Along with Rabbi Mitchell Serels, they went to a local synagogue and with the help of a translator, managed to get through to a Syrian operator. They simply asked for "the Jewish school." They were connected to the home of a woman who was a Muhabarat informer. She wasn't home, but her husband was, and they asked him for a Jewish name. He gave the name of the young assistant chief rabbi of Damascus, Rabbi Ibrahim Hamra. Later that day the Felds sent Rabbi Hamra a telegram and began a correspondence. They started sending religious items to Syria, figuring that even when the Muhabarat confiscated them, they'd know someone was watching out for Syrian Jews.
The Syrian Jews, using a technique developed during the Inquisition, quoted the Bible in their thank-you telegrams to convey information. For instance, shortly after the Syrians staged a bloody pogrom on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, Judy received a thank-you telegram that alluded to the line from the Bible "Rachel is weeping for her children," indicating that children had been harmed. Soon, individuals, cities, countries, and fates were referred to in code.
The Felds began a human-rights campaign, informing MPs, writing letters to the editor, and holding public meetings. A Syrian military journal wrote that their campaign had to be stamped out. Ronald had a premonition something might happen to him. On June 6, 1973, a harrowing threat - the nature of which Judy will not discuss - was delivered to the Felds, and Ronald became extremely anxious. The next night, at home, while Ronald was playing a game of horsey with the couple's three-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, he slumped down. Elizabeth cried out, "Daddy, Daddy, get off me." But Ronald was dead from a heart attack. He was forty.
"Had Ronald had a serious stress lately?" his doctor asked. Within hours of Ronald's death, Rabbi Hamra was interrogated by the Muhabarat about his ties to the Felds. Then they told him that Ronald Feld was dead - before Ronald's death had even been made public.
Four months after Ronald died, Syria launched a surprise attack against Israel on Yom Kippur and captured the Golan Heights. Now it was Rabbi Hamra's turn for deathly premonitions. With the war raging, he was summoned by the Muhabarat to a cemetery to perform a burial. When he arrived, he asked, "Who is it that I am burying?" "We don't know," was the answer. "We haven't killed them yet." The next morning, the bodies of five Israeli pilots were brought out. In a Syrian photograph, their blood can be seen seeping out of the caskets as two Syrian officials stand beside Rabbi Hamra.
Widowed, with children aged three, eight, and eleven to support, Judy juggled three part-time teaching jobs. Her synagogue set up the Dr. Ronald Feld Fund for Jews in Arab Lands. And Judy, along with six other volunteers, started to raise money for the fund by giving synagogue speeches, beginning at her own synagogue, Beth Tzedec in Toronto. She handed out pamphlets requesting assistance. She approached relevant Canadian government agencies. In 1974, she pleaded with the External Affairs Department to meet with Syrian Jews to document their condition. Its officials refused, citing UN information that said the claim that Syrian Jews were being mistreated was "inflammatory." When she asked External Affairs to publicly support Amnesty International's bid to enter Syria, the minister sang a familiar refrain: any public statement might undermine Canada's ability to work with the Syrian government.
Meanwhile, establishment Jewish groups, such as the Canadian Jewish Congress (CJC), did little effective lobbying, declaring Syria the Arab state "most impervious to pressure." Some CJC members depicted Judy as a dangerous, brash amateur, whose lobbying was counterproductive.
In 1976, Donald Carr, a lawyer and one of the most respected establishment leaders of the Jewish community, himself a widower and father of three children, was sitting in Beth Tzedec synagogue. He looked over at Judy and thought, "I'm going to marry that woman." They went out on one date. The next day they were engaged, and they soon married. 
THE RESCUER, PART II
In the early 1970s, 4,500 Jews were trapped in Syria, terrorized by Nazi-trained secret police. Then Judy Feld Carr, a music teacher from Toronto, began setting up an underground network to get them out. Today, only a few remain
By Norman Doidge
( PART ONE )
http://www.jewishworldreview.com -- JUDY FELD CARR never dreamed of rescuing Syrian Jews herself. But shortly before marrying Don she heard that an elderly man, Toufik Srour, had become the first Syrian Jew in twenty years to leave legally. He'd had to bribe the Muhabarat with $9,500 for a visitor's visa to the United States. From there, he hoped to come to Canada where his daughter, Esther, had lived since World War II. But before he left Syria, Esther received an emergency telegram saying, "Send me $2,000 quickly" to expedite the visa. She sent the money. When Toufik arrived in Canada, Esther mentioned the telegram asking for $2,000. Toufik said he hadn't sent it. Clearly, someone in the Muhabarat was testing to see if people in the West would pay bribes for Jews.
Then, by coincidence, Hannah Cohen, who ran a Toronto gas station, contacted Judy about her brother Rabbi Dahab, who lived in Syria. Some of Rabbi Dahab's children - first a son and two daughters, then a second son - had escaped. After each escape, the rabbi was imprisoned and tortured, beaten with clubs and razor-thin whips until his bones were broken and his kidneys had stopped functioning. Judy proposed trying to get him released temporarily for medical treatment. She gave speeches, raising money in five- and ten-dollar amounts, often from Jews of modest means, until she had a ransom, and could bring Dahab to Canada.
When he arrived, the internist who assessed Dahab - a doctor who had been with Canadian Forces in World War II - said he hadn't seen a body that disfigured since he'd treated Auschwitz survivors. Rabbi Dahab couldn't be saved. He begged Judy to let him die in Israel, at his children's side. Judy arranged it, and joined him there.
"Then," said Judy, "the day before he died - he begged me, 'I want you to take my daughter, Olga, out of Syria.' I had no idea how to get this girl out. . . . What do you say to that? No? I had to let him die in peace." Judy altered Dahab's documents to make the Syrians think he was alive, then asked them to release Olga to care for him in Toronto. They named a price, and with the help of Canada's new minister of immigration, Ron Atkey (who stuck his neck out and sent her a visa surreptitiously from Lebanon to Syria), Olga got out too. Mrs. Judy was in business.
She operated in secret underground cells. Sometimes three or four Syrian Jewish neighbours would be involved, gathering information, each ignorant of the others' involvement so the work couldn't be endangered if the Muhabarat seized and tortured one. In rare instances when Jewish businessmen living in Syria were permitted to travel (on the condition that family members were held back), she'd meet them clandestinely in Europe, the Middle East, and North America to set up her underground network, exchange messages, and develop codes so that when they spoke on the phone they could convey vast amounts of information. A code based on references to Chinese food was developed. Judy was known as "Gin" because, as a girl in Northern Ontario, she had consumed her share to keep warm.
Each time she saved someone, everyone involved, whether it was a low-level bureaucrat or a general or one of the highest-ranking members of the Muhabarat, demanded bribes. Slowly she put together a picture of the Muhabarat, determining who had an expensive mistress or a second family, who needed cash quickly or was simply greedy. She bribed lawyers to let her know who was in financial trouble, and wardens to let her informants know who was in prison or had a family member before the courts. When she found out about a Muhabarat agent in need, one of her men would, on her instructions, float a proposal and negotiate prices. For women, the Syrians often bargained on the basis of looks. "A fat girl without teeth went cheap," said Judy. "A beauty was expensive."
A breach of secrecy could be catastrophic. In 1979, Batya Barakat, her husband Baruch, and their four children tried to escape without Judy's help from Qamishli with two other families. Soon after beginning their six-hour hike to the border, they ran into the Muhabarat, who had been alerted by the Barakats' Muslim neighbours. The Muhabarat opened fire on the family. Batya fell on her daughter to shield her, taking three bullets, including one in the spine that permanently paralyzed her from the waist down. She was bleeding to death, but no Muslim doctor would treat her. Finally, a Jewish physician did.
When an international campaign got Batya to Italy for treatment in exchange for a $10,000 ransom, Baruch and the children tried to escape again. Caught once more, Baruch was tortured, along with a thirteen-year-old boy who was with them. Eventually, Judy arranged to ransom Baruch and his four children. As their plane was taxiing down the runway, the Muhabarat stopped it, boarded, and told Baruch to leave two children behind. With unspeakable anguish, he decided to leave behind his oldest daughter, seven, and his youngest, a three-year-old.
Two years later, Mrs. Judy got them out too.
Escapes were arranged when ransoms could not be. Since many smugglers secretly worked for the Muhabarat, accepting money from unsuspecting Jews and then turning them over at the border, Judy set up her own contacts in neighbouring countries. Meanwhile, she raised money and made monthly trips to Ottawa, where her member of parliament and future External Affairs Minister Barbara McDougall, along with government officials Percy Sherwood, Denis Grégoire de Blois, and Michel de Salaberry helped her contact people in Syria.
One escape involved the Gindi family. Mr. and Mrs. Gindi had six sons. One boy had been beaten so badly in Syrian prison that he became an epileptic. Mr. Gindi himself was ill. After Judy ransomed the sick father and son, the Muhabarat told Mrs. Gindi that if she or her other sons tried to escape they would gouge her eyes out.
A reliable smuggler was given half a necklace. The other half had been given to Mrs. Gindi. When the smuggler came for the family and showed his half, she would know to go. In May, 1983 - on the very day Judy's father died - an informant told Judy everything was in place. Cash, in certain U.S. denominations, was required immediately. Judy raced around that morning from bank to bank to get it. "I had to put off my father's funeral and not tell my mother about why I delayed things," she said. She gave the money to a man who took the Concord overseas. Later the same day a contact in Israel took the money to Turkey, and transferred it to someone in her underground who delivered half to the smuggler in Syria. Commissions were paid to everyone along the way.
In the middle of a moonless night, the Gindis walked to the suburbs and were picked up by a van and taken to hills near the Turkish border. They took no possessions, pictures, or money (Judy's rules). When they had crossed over, a Jewish man met them and paid the smuggler the remainder of his fee. The Gindis were then secretly taken out of Turkey. The Israeli Secret Service, initially wary of Mrs. Judy the amateur, were soon amazed by her.
Where in the world does such a woman come from?
Jack Leve, Judy's father, was a raw-fur trader. He was born in Russia. In 1904, when his brother was murdered in a pogrom, his parents, able to afford only one ticket, put nine-year-old Jack on a ship to Montreal, where he was to live with relatives. Fiercely competitive, he did far better than his classmates at Hebrew school, but one day the rabbi belittled him for showing it. Jack dipped a snowball in water to freeze it and beaned the rabbi on his walk home, knocking him out. When he was caught, rather than face the consequences, he decamped to New York and got a factory job, skinning skunks for fur coats.
After serving with the Canadian forces in World War I, Jack decided to trade furs, working in James Bay. He spent most of his time with native Canadians, befriended Grey Owl, and even bailed him out of prison once. In 1938, Jack married Sarah Rives. When Judy was born in Montreal, dog sleds were sent out to notify Jack, who was in an igloo on Baffin Island.
Eventually Jack settled in Sudbury. His company car was a canoe, and he paddled to meetings with Natives, bought and sold furs when he was not setting his own traps, hunting, or fishing. His work outfit was a parka the Natives had made him, one pair of pants, and his gun. He lived for long periods on reservations. Often he put Judy in his canoe and took her around with him. "I can remember, as a kid of about ten, watching him skin a beaver, cutting out its innards," she says. "I'd feel sick watching it, and say, 'I don't feel well.' He'd reply, 'Hmm. That must be because you're hungry.' Then he'd pull out a stick of salami - always kosher - and he'd wipe the knife he had just used on the beaver just once on his pants - and then use it to cut me off a slice, and pour me a glass of brandy to wash it down with."
Like much of Canada in the 1940s, Sudbury was not free of anti-Semitism. Judy was the only Jew in the Catholic school she attended for one year when the local public school had been closed down. "The name-calling began the day the nuns gave a lecture on Jews at Easter," she says. "The kids started calling me 'Christ killer,' and 'dirty Jew,' all the way home. I remember having to ask my father, 'Who is Christ?' Only once in all my public-school years was I invited to another kid's birthday party."
It was Jack who taught her to handle anti-Semitism. "My father said, 'You ignore that. Never take no for an answer. You go on and become successful.' When I got older, ready to leave Sudbury and go off by myself to university, he said: 'I've taught you to shoot, paddle a canoe, hold your liquor, swear, and be a good Jew. That's all you need to take care of yourself.'"
"And how did you come to take care of others?" I asked.
"Shortly after the Second World War ended, when I was about six, a Polish couple - a Jew and a Gentile - moved into a rooming house next door. The woman, Sophie, a seamstress, was Jewish, spoke Yiddish, and started visiting our family and paying close attention to me. One night she told us that she had been married before, and had had two children murdered in Auschwitz, and that she had been used by Dr. Josef Mengele in one of the 'medical experiments' there."
At that point, her parents ushered Judy and her brother out of the room, but they snuck down and peered through the door. Sophie undressed, revealing her stomach and breasts. They were horribly scarred and disfigured. "Mengele," began Sophie, "said he wanted to determine how much pain a woman could have if she had her ovaries taken out without an anaesthetic. . . ."
After Sophie told her story, Judy's parents didn't want her coming around too much. They felt Judy wasn't ready to hear about the Holocaust in such detail. "But I'd sneak over to the rooming house, around four o'clock after school. She'd make me chocolate milk and talk, and one day she asked me, 'When is your birthday, Judy?' and I told her the end of December. Then she told me 'Today is my daughter's birthday.' At first I didn't know what she meant. 'Today is her birthday? Happy birthday,' I said. Then in a blank voice, not even looking at me, something unwound in her, and she started reporting, in a driven, hypnotic way: 'There were two lines.' Then she screamed, 'I have to go into this line with my daughter!' She gave a scream like an animal. I can still hear it. I heard that sound come from other Syrian Jewish mothers to whom I had to say, I can get one of your children out, and only one, and I have to know which one in the next eight hours.' "
The link between the Dr. Mengele Sophie faced, and the Muhabarat Mrs. Judy confronted, was SS officer Aloïs Brünner. Brünner, an Austrian, had been an important member of Adolf Eichmann's Office 4b4, the Reich agency in charge of implementing Hitler's Final Solution to the Jewish Problem. One of Brünner's last wartime acts was to round up 250 Jewish orphans in Paris and send them by cattle car to Auschwitz, just three weeks before the Allies liberated the French capital.
While Sophie was showing Judy her scars, Brünner was in flight, wanted by the Greeks and the French for hunting down and deporting 120,000 Jews, most of whom were murdered in the gas chambers of death camps. French courts sentenced him, in absentia, to death. Germany issued a warrant in 1995, and Austria asked for his extradition.
Brünner arrived in Syria in 1954 using the alias Dr. Georg Fischer. The Syrians arrested him, but upon revealing his Nazi past, he was released. According to the Nazi-hunters Simon Wiesenthal and Beate Klarsfeld, and Andreas Sefiha, president of Thessaloniki's Jewish community, Brünner was given refuge in Damascus in return for his assistance in retooling the Muhabarat (later run by Hafez al-Assad's brother, Rifaat). The Daily Telegraph in London reported that Brünner had specifically helped train the Muhabarat in torture. He remained in Syria, except for a brief period during which he helped Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser recruit Nazi rocket scientists to help attack Israel. In 1985 the West German magazine Bunte published an interview with photographs of him in Syria. Der Spiegel reported he was living in the Damascus Hotel Meridian as of July, 1999.
Along with psychological torture, such as telling a victim his family is being tortured or staging executions, the Syrians, according to the Middle East Watch Report in 1990, developed torture machines, including al-Kursi al-Almani ("the German chair"), a metal chair with knives on it and hinges on the back. As the back is lowered, the strapped victim is slowly cut to pieces. Brünner, when he was an SS captain, favoured using a wire whip with fish-hook devices on the end. At Judy's, I met Gidi Ehrenhalt, who was an eighteen-year-old Israeli soldier when he was captured on the Golan, and placed in El Meza prison. He was in a two-by-one-metre cell without light for months, and visited daily by guards using the fish-hook whip. Ehrenhalt is now permanently disabled.
"The hardest part," she says, "was having no one to talk to. I had to keep things normal around the house, as in: 'Mummy, it's the phone, it's a Syrian Jew. . . .' 'Thank you, dear, you go do your homework.' They knew Mummy had some business, and knew not to ask.
I pulled out a copy of the letter from Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in which he thanked her in 1995 for "twenty-three years of hard and dangerous work," and I asked her if she had thought much of the risks to herself, should something awful happen on one of her overseas trips.
"No," she answered. "I had blinkers on. But not any more. Sometimes when you are really determined you don't look to the right or the left. I felt it must be done. I focused on what I could achieve and trying to eliminate what was around me. I learned to do that growing up, with a difficult home life. My parents didn't get along. They were always fighting, like you can't imagine. I used to run away and hide under a tree, in the bush. To survive it I put blinkers on. I knew I'd have to have blinkers on until I managed to leave.
"If you give in, it's easy for everything to fall apart." She paused. "You know, it's twenty-seven years yesterday that Ronald died." Considering that we were meeting on the day after Assad had died, we both sat silently, absorbing the irony.
She wasn't only nerves of steel. "I'd sit and cry when I had to remove a child from a parent, or know a parent would have to choose which child to free," she says. "And they didn't even know who I was."
Eleven-year-old Shimon Swed, suffering from eye cancer, couldn't get surgery in Syria and was going to die. Judy ransomed him and his parents, getting him to Sloane- Kettering Cancer Center in New York on the condition they left the two young Swed children behind. "I couldn't get those kids out of my mind. . . . ," she says. "Meanwhile, the treatments were complicated - several years of surgery and chemo. The mother, Shafiya, was free but getting phone calls from her kids, weeping uncontrollably, 'But Mummy, I want you.' Four years passed. Shafiya couldn't take the mental torture and decided to go back to Syria. I begged her to give me more time to get her children out. 'I can't,' she said. Eventually, I got those kids. It wasn't for money that they held them, but for the pure cruelty of it. I learned to understand it only because I was able to get inside the minds of those on the receiving end. Their fear was coming out of their pores. And because Sophie became, along with my grandmother, a second mother, I did what I did for Sophie. I felt I owed her something. It felt like I, after coming from a difficult family, now had children, freedom, two wonderful husbands whom I loved, and who loved me. And, strange as it sounds, I felt I owed Sophie for the six million. So I thought, Sophie, I owe it to you to get these people out. And I did it."
Syrian Jewry had been rumoured to have a second precious manuscript besides the Aleppo Keter, the Damascus Keter. Rabbi Hamra, who had been staying behind, willing to be one of the last to leave, knew of its secret location. In one of her final covert acts, Judy arranged for one of her Arabic-speaking couriers, a Westerner and a non-Jew, to go over the border with it buried in his business documents. Judy travelled to pick up the Keter. When she opened it in her Toronto home, she immediately saw its original bill of sale, in medieval Rashi script, suggesting it might be the famous lost Keter of Castile, Spain, dating back before the Inquisition and the expulsion of the Jews in 1492. A second bill, written in Judeo-Arabic, showed it had moved east when the Jews fled the Inquisition. It was sold in Constantinople in 1515. Then it made its way to Damascus. Unlike the Aleppo Keter, which had so many pages destroyed or missing, the Damascus Keter was delivered to Mrs. Judy, and then ultimately to the National Library in Jerusalem, each page intact.
Such luck might have been expected from Mrs. Judy. In 3,218 rescues, not a single Jew was killed or caught, and today, even Rabbi Hamra lives with his family in Israel, a free man.