CHAPTER I
The Road to Tehran
August, 1978: The first thing that strikes you when you turn from the airport onto the highway leading to the hotel in the center of Tehran is the extraordinarily heavy traffic. And another remarkable phenomenonâmost of the cars are Cadillacs and Mercedes. What a greeting!
In 1978, Iran was moving from being a leader of âThird Worldâ nations to joining the âSecond World.â As head of OPEC, the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries, Iran was flexing its economic muscles around the world, and business was booming. But the storm clouds that just a short while before had been merely lingering on the horizon were now hurtling toward downtown Tehran.
At that time, I served as rabbi of the Sephardic Congregation of Queens in Forest Hills, New York. Among our congregants were a number of prominent Persian Jews, including several families who identified as members of the close-knit Mashhadi community. Persian Jews had lived in Mashhad, a province of northeastern Iran, for centuries. In the early nineteenth century, under intense Muslim pressure, they had feigned conversion to Islam while practicing their Jewish traditions in secret. As a result they had developed a uniquely proud culture and strong family ties.
During the 1960s many Mashhadi families emigrated from Iran and set up small communities in Milan, Italy; London, England; and Hamburg, Germany. The Milan community, though predominantly Mashhadi, also included non-Mashhadi Iranians, among them, the Illulian family.
Hertzel Illulian, then a student in the Lubavitch Yeshiva in Brooklyn, frequently came to Queens to visit his Persian uncles who were members of my congregation. My wife and I often invited him into our home, where we made him feel very comfortable. He looked up to my wife, Rebbetzin Channah Hecht, almost as an âadoptedâ aunt, and we welcomed him as though he were a member of the family. Today, he is a highly respected community Rabbi and Chabad-Lubavitch emissary in Los Angeles. Though he had grown up and attended the local Lubavitch school in Milan, with the encouragement of Rabbi Moshe Lazar, who served as the Rabbi of the Mashhadi community there, he transferred to the Lubavitch Yeshiva in Brooklyn. He had long maintained contact with family members in Iran, and at the time of our story his older brother was living in Tehran and serving as an officer in the Iranian Air Force.
Hertzel had a dream: to visit Iran on a Torah outreach mission as an official emissary of Chabad-Lubavitch, and eventually to work toward establishing an ongoing outreach presence in Iran. He had actually written to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, about his dream, asking for his blessing and guidance. Up to that point in time the Rebbe had not responded.
Interestingly, several months earlier I had met with a Rabbi Tzvi Simantov, a leader of the Afghani community in Israel who had very close friendships with many members of my congregation. He would often come to the United States seeking support for various outreach projects in which he was involved, in Israel, America, and elsewhere. This time he was trying to find young couples who would move to Iran to be part of a proposed Kollel, a full-time study program that he was hoping to set up. He told me that he had funds available for the project. At that time the state of Jewish observance in Iran was sadly not up to par, which I later witnessed myself when I went to Iran. I inquired as to whether he felt that Lubavitcher young couples could fit into this plan, and he said, absolutely! He would be very happy if the Rebbe would take an interest, support the Kollel, and send couples there; he was certain that would prove very productive.
He also told me that he planned to contact Torah UâMesorah, the national network of Hebrew Day Schools in the US, to see if they could find appropriate young couples to go to Iran. After discussing this with him in some detail, I wrote a letter to the Rebbe asking for advice as to whether or not to participate in this and continue conversations with him. The Rebbeâs answer to me was not to get involved in something that might create competition with Torah UâMesorah. So at that point, the idea of sending Lubavitchers to Iran seemed to be off the table. As it happened, Rabbi Simantovâs plan never got off the ground due to the political changes unfolding in Iran.
Meanwhile Hertzelâs dream remained very much alive. In June of 1978 the Rebbeâs senior Secretary, Rabbi Hodakov, advised him to present the idea to me. Hertzel now came to me with a challenging suggestion, that together we should arrange for a âshlichutâ outreach mission to Iran, under the auspices of Merkos LâInyonei Chinuch, the educational outreach arm of Chabad. Merkos oversees a summer program every year, sending young Rabbis to communities around the world to teach and strengthen Jewish practice. He was convinced that this mission would open up opportunities for greatly improving the spiritual quality of Jewish life in Iran. At that time we believed that no official representatives of the Rebbe had visited Iran since 1963.
We later learned that one prominent rabbi had indeed visited Iran in the 1960s and â70s, Rabbi Avraham Mordechai Hershbergâno stranger himself to persecution and exile. Born in Poland, one of the elite students in the legendary Lublin Yeshiva, Rabbi Hershberg was forced to flee when the Nazis invaded Poland, escaping first to Vilna, Lithuania. Luckily, he was among the Jews for whom the legendary Japanese Ambassador to Lithuania issued visas to Japan, rescuing him and many other Jews. From Japan he was sent to the famous (and in many ways infamous) Shanghai Ghetto, along with thousands more refugees. He broke free from Shanghai in the early days of the War and made his way first to Montreal, then to a Rabbinical post in Chicago. From there he emigrated to Mexico, where for twenty-five years he served in close collaboration with his colleague Rabbi Jacob Avigdor, the Chief Rabbi of Mexico and a survivor of Buchenwald. Serving together in a powerful âunalignedâ country, they cultivated many contacts among leaders of Arab countries and other world leaders at the United Nations. Consulting frequently with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, he conducted a number of missions to Iran during those yearsâthe last and most dramatic of which was in 1980, during the Iranian hostage crisis. Although this remarkable encounter had some positive impact (see sidebar on the opposite page) and resulted in some temporary leniency on the part of Khomeini and the Islamic Republic of Iran, the safety of the Persian Jews was far from guaranteed. People began to leave Iran in droves to settle in Israel, Europe, and the US.
In 1979, however, no Chabad emissary had been to Iran in many years. Hertzel was determined to step into the breach, and having turned to me, his infectious enthusiasm moved me to partner with him.
I felt it would be helpful to enlist the participation of the American Sefardic/Iranian community, so I approached several members and friends of our congregation in Kew Gardens and Forest Hills. I also reached out to other respected members of the extended Sephardic community in Queens, including influential Persian émigrés with whom I was friendly. I suggested that it would be very meaningful for these prominent community members, particularly those of Persian descent, to share sponsorship of the proposed trip with Lubavitch. The suggestion was discussed, proposals were presented, and the plan was accepted. We then worked out a strategy to cover all expenses of the trip. Our Iranian friends Mr. Azariah Levy and Mr. Khalil Moradi were among the most generous underwriters.
When the US Embassy in Tehran was overrun by radical Iranian students, holding 52 Americans hostage for 444 days, a United Nations initiative sought Ayatollah Khomeiniâs permission to bring Christian leaders to Iran to meet with the hostages. Thinking it might be helpful to send a Rabbi as well, they approached Rabbi Hershberg, who then went personally to New York to seek guidance in the matter from the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The Rebbe encouraged him, and further told him to pack a menorahâeven though this was in May of 1980, long before the Chanukah holiday. Shortly thereafter Khomeini rescinded his permission, but after a long delay the plan was rescheduled in the Winter. The Rabbi and the Priests were invited to attend a special public religious event being held on Friday, the Muslim holy day. During the prayers, everyone followed the expected protocol, bowing and prostrating themselves at the appropriate timeâeveryone but Rabbi Hershberg. He was immediately approached by military personnel who demanded to know why he did not bow down. âI only bow down to Hashem,â the Rabbi replied. âAnd not understanding the language, it would have been improper for me to bow without understanding why. I didnât know which words referred to our G-d.â
His response was reported to Khomeini, who replied, âwe respect you for your honesty and not taking us for fools. You neither flattered nor lied to us.â Several days later Khomeini received him in private audience. Rabbi Hershberg discussed with him the plight of the Jews, urging him to show kindness; in the course of their conversation he explained to Khomeini how the blue and white design appearing on a tallit (the prayer shawl) has nothing intrinsically to do with the blue and white flag of the âZionist stateââso no one wearing a tallit should be held captive, prosecuted, or harmed. He also came to an understanding with the Ayatollah that Jews found walking to selichot services in synagogue at 5 am should not be arrested for violating the curfew.
The menorah did reach the Jewish hostages, who lit the candles that Chanukah.
When we brought this agreement to the attention of Rabbi Hodakov of the Rebbeâs Secretariat (he was also the director of the Merkos outreach program), he in turn brought it to the attention of the Rebbe.
At one point while we were discussing the mission to Iran with Rabbi Hodakov, I wrote a letter to the Rebbe informing him of the progress we had made, asking whether or not to go to Iran and beseeching the Rebbeâs blessing. The note I wrote to the Rebbe, in English, included the following points:
âWhen the possibility of Merkos Shlichut to Iran arose, I spoke with several businessmen and professionals from Iran, and they agreed to share in the expenses. A meeting with leaders of the Iranian community will be held on Monday, the 26th of Tammuz (in the year 1978) to discuss in detail how they can help the mission.
âI also informed Rabbi Hodakov that I am personally able be one of the shluchim, and he has accepted my offer.â
After stating several other aspects of the plan, I concluded the letter by asking for the directive of the Rebbe as to whether it was appropriate to go. The answer the Rebbe gave was bilingual: âAl pi zeh,â (according to what you have written,) âto go.â And he added, âAzkir Al HaTzion,â which means that he will mention (i.e. pray for) the mission at the resting place of his father-in-law, the Previous Rebbe. This was the Rebbeâs characteristic way of affirming his blessing.
So we had a green light from the Rebbe for the mission, and I personally had a clear blessing that I should be among the people going to Iran. This started the ball rolling and gave purpose and direction to the whole operation of the exodus from Iran.
My plan was to remain in Iran for two weeks. Hertzelâs intention was to stay on for an additional two weeks, during which time heâd be joined by our friend Rabbi Yossi Raichik AâH, who was in Israel at the time, and who was already well known as an international travelling ambassador for Chabad. Afterwards they too would return to the United States.
And so, a few days after Tisha BâAv, 1978 (the traditional fast day commemorating the tragic destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem) Hertzel Illulian and I set forth on our flight to Tehran. We had a clear sense of the significance of the mission we were about to undertake; and we had begun to sense the magnanimous hand of Divine Providence guiding our every move. However the magnitude of the historic eruption that would soon occur, and the intensity of the events that lay ahead, remained for the moment beyond our imagination.
CHAPTER II
Antiquity & Modernity: A New Jew in Tehran
In 1971 the Shah of Iran, Reza Pahlavi, held a grand national celebration to which he invited the Kings, Queens, Presidents, and Prime Ministers of the nations of the world. It took place at the ancient Persian capital of Persepolis, the burial place of Cyrus the Great, complete with elaborate fireworks, a massive parade of soldiers garbed in antique uniforms, and a spectacular sound and light show. His intention was twofold: to show that although Iran had embraced modernity and was no longer stuck in the past, it remained faithful to its age-old traditions. Ironically, the event also bore an unspoken dual message for the Iranian Jewish community.
Modern Iran, formerly Persia, was in ancient times a center of power in the Middle East, along with Babylonia and Medea. These three kingdoms, known in the Biblical and Talmudic literature as Bavel, Paras, uâMadai, became the seat of Jewish Diaspora after the destruction of the first Holy Temple in Jerusalem, more than twenty-five centuries ago. This was the beginning of the history of the Jewish community of Iran, dramatically portrayed in the books of Esther, Daniel, Ezra, and Nechemiah.
The area was also the epicenter of Torah learning, until the completion of the Babylonian Talmud more than a thousand years later. In ancient Persia and Babylon, Jewsâthe âPeople of the Bookââwere respected for their scholarship and exemplary lifestyle, enjoying equal standing and religious freedom.
That began to change with the advent of Islamic control throughout the Middle East. From the eighth century onward, non-Muslims came to be considered second-class citizens. During certain historic periods, the Jews of Persia were treated slightly better than those in other Arab countries, but generally speaking they were merely âtolerated,â given only a minimal amount of freedom if they did not convert to Islam. Some non-Muslims under Islamic rule were known as âdhimmis.â In exchange for the loss of their dignity and liberty, dhimmis were afforded some limited protection, but were still generally excluded from holding public office, denied the right to practice many professions or attain high positions, and given only the most degrading jobs. According to the Koran, for example, if a Jew or Christian touches food, it is considered unclean, inedible for Muslims. But they were always subject to the whims and caprices of the local religious or political leaders, including exorbitant taxation, extortion, blackmail, and beatings. The actual extent of the oppression varied, depending on the individual mullahs and rulers. In the few centuries leading up to the twentieth century, Jews in all the Iranian cities were made to live in Jewish ghettos, which were called the âMahaleh.â
This was true right up until 1953, when under US influence, the previous regime was deposed, and Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi was reinstalled as the ruler of Iran. The Swiss-educated Pahlavi brought a new, modern vision to his position. His intention was to develop and bring Iran into the twentieth century, to diminish the reactionary influence of Islam, and to build up the infrastructure of his country with the billions earned from oil money.
Despite his absolute authoritarian control of his country, the new Shah had very progressive ideas. He became an important leader in the world of the Non-Aligned Nations and was a source of new development in the Middle Eastâand a new partnership with the State of Israel. He also realized early on that the Jews would be faithful and loyal to him, and had the ability to help him develop the economy and Iranian society. For that reason, he became a secret patron of the Jews of Iran. He granted them greater freedom of education and freedom of movement in the cities. He allowed them to buy homes outside of the ghettos, and he permitted them to practice their religion and to build synagogues and Hebrew schools. Although it was only to a limited degree, the Shah did serve to facilitate the development and growth of the Jewish community in Iran, and as a result the Jews prospered and thrived more than they had for centuries.
As ...