A Rabbi in Tijuana?

Sure, he went from being a barefoot shepherd in Mexico to a wealthy businessman in Los Angeles. And yes, it's true that he spent time along the way with Che and Fidel during the Cuban revolution. He also was ordained as a Methodist minister, but later converted to Judaism. But what Carlos Samuel Salas really wants to talk about is the thriving little congregation of Mexican Jews that he has brought into being in Tijuana--almost all of them Catholics converted under his tutelage.

"I think that I am fulfilling a commandment every time I teach," says Salas in his accented but near-perfect English. "We have almost 100 members now. The congregation is flourishing."

At 71, Salas is a stocky, handsome man, elegant in a 1940s way. He favors dark tailored suits, sports an impeccably trimmed Clark Gable mustache and combs his graying but still abundant hair smartly back. He steps up to the bimah to preside over a recent Saturday morning service with the easy smile and inviting charisma of a posh nightclub bandleader.

The Congregacion Hebrea de Baja California sits in a modest residential neighborhood of Tijuana, miles from the tourist discos and tequila bars of the border zone and even further from them in temperament. The worshippers--mostly middle-class men and women in their 30s and 40s, along with a handful of children--kiss the mezuza on the sanctuary's door frame as they enter, bidding each other a friendly "Shabbat shalom." Most have brought their own yarmulkes and prayer shawls. Per orthodox tradition, the 35-odd men and women sit on separate sides of the low-ceilinged, brightly lighted room, which is decorated with pink Spanish tiles, menorahs, Stars of David and the flags of Israel and Mexico. Salas leads them through a two-hour service, the roomful of former Catholics chanting the Hebrew prayers with impressive fluency.

This may be the only synagogue in the world that is composed of people not born into the faith. Judaism does not encourage proselytizing, and converts make up only a tiny percentage of Jews worldwide. Congregacion Hebrea's very existence is testimony not only to Salas' dedication, but also to his formidable powers of salesmanship. He never misses a chance to plug the synagogue, its programs and plans. Before answering a single question for this story, he burst into an excited spiel about the rabbinical school he plans to open early next year, for which he has persuaded a synagogue in San Diego to donate about 2,000 books. He clearly believes deeply in the faith he's promoting--after all, he's been doing it for 35 years without pay.


<< Previous Page | Next Page >>
 
 
Magazine