No good can come of this

A few weeks ago I received a cryptic missive from HQ describing an American expedition to the mythical Shaare Shalom Synagogue in Kingston. Legend has it that one of the New World’s oldest synagogues was sitting a couple blocks west of Allman Town, just above Parade in the heart of downtown. Apparently, Sephardic Jews have been settled in Jamaica for 350 years, but sadly, their population has dwindled to only about 200 or so living in Kingston. Determined to glimpse this noble race threatened with extinction, myself and two trusty comrades signed up for the trip, since it was embassy-sponsored and something to do on a Sunday morning.

We departed from upscale Constant Spring around nine in the morning with a dozen or so embassy workers and assorted ex-pats and made our way deep into the urban jungle below Half Way Tree. The whiteys fidgeted nervously, wracked with a mix of fear and fascination as the tour bus made its way down Orange Street through the ghettos of Cross Roads and Jones Town. These were not guarded compounds or walled resorts.. this was real urban Jamaica; a vibrant, tempestuous landscape of poverty and truth. This was the other side.

The synagogue looked like every other old building around Parade; noble and proud with its hand-carved facades encased in a century’s worth of whitewashed grime. The spiritual leader wasn’t an actual rabbi, but no one seemed to mind. He was a nice guy with a flair for the dramatic. He proudly showed off their Jewish Community Center and Museum. He described how Sephardic Jews fled Spain and somehow ended up here, first settling in Spanish Town, then Kingston and Port Royal.

We wandered around the grounds and entered the synagogue, its floors covered with sand as a testament to old times when too much noise would bring the Inquisitors to your doorstep.

He then opened the tabernacle behind the altar, where the congregation’s multiple Torahs (some very old), are kept. We went into tourist mode, gawking and taking pictures. We then met Ed Kritzler, a Parrothead from Long Island who came here decades ago and never left. He was about to publish his first book, Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean, detailing the exploits of a few intrepid Semites who took to the waves in alternative business ventures. While the notion of linking God’s chosen people with high-seas piracy does little to combat certain stereotypes, Ed dug up some pretty entertaining tales overlooked by history and painted a fascinating picture of life in those times through his research and storytelling. Joe was obviously mesmerized by his lecture.

Among other things, he hypothesized that the skull and crossbones of pirate fame may have come from the Jewish tradition of using ossuaries, and led us outside to view several Jewish tombstones from the period that seemed to support his theory (although it could have also come from the Spanish imagery to denote cemeteries and death). Still, it piqued my interest, so I’ll definitely look for his book when it comes out in November.

By the end of the tour we were all Jewed out. My quest to see the mysterious Jamaican Tribe of Israel thus complete, I went back to my normal routine, oblivious to the paranormal energies surrounding us at that place. Little did I know my camera had captured evidence of something not of this life..

Orbs!

Behold! Mysterious Jew Orbs from some ethereal realm can clearly be seen bursting forth from the Holy of Holies. I didn’t notice until reviewing the pictures weeks later, but the camera does not lie! My esteemed colleague present at the time says they’re merely dust particles caught in the flash, but I can’t accept so rational an explanation. Instead, I turned to science to unlock the mysteries of these floating balls of unseen ectoplasm. Utilizing cutting edge imagery software, I discovered a complex code hidden within the placement of the orbs which, if linked in proper order, reveal a haunting message that speaks for itself. Warning: This should not be viewed by expectant mothers or the faint of heart.

Oh Noes!

By connecting the orbs I was able to expose this terrifying symbol, obviously a message from beyond the grave, a clear sign from the aforementioned notorious Jewish pirates (note the yarmulke). Though long detached from their mortal forms, you can plainly see how they congregate around the delicious gold of the scrolls, yearning to be near it for all eternity and warning all others to beware with the ubiquitous Jolly Roger. Alas, what a sad fate is theirs, but a fitting end to the wild lives they once led.

I must notify Ed at once of my findings. Maybe I too can get a spot on The History Channel. For the time being, I must get back to the synagogue and attempt to communicate with them. I think the big one in the upper right hand corner is their leader. Perhaps they have unfinished business here. I will bring an offering of rum and an Ouija board see where it goes. Wish me luck.