The story of Jews in Brazil is one of obscured courage, survival, and reinvention, says Michael Steinberger, founder of the Jewish Heritage Alliance (JHA), a nonprofit dedicated to preserving the legacy of Sefarad—Jews of Iberian descent.

Brazil may conjure images of samba and sunshine, but beneath the tropical surface lies a profound and often untold chapter of Jewish history. To uncover more, I spoke with Steinberger about Brazil's hidden Jewish legacy.

What connects you and JHA to Brazil?

Before founding JHA, I spent many years in the tourism industry as the founder of LATOUR, a major tour operator for Brazil and Latin America. That’s where I first encountered the remarkable, under-reported story of Sefarad in the Americas. It sparked a lifelong mission to uncover, protect, and share this essential part of Jewish and world history.

What are the early roots of Jews in Brazil?

Jewish presence in Brazil dates back over 500 years, beginning with Jews fleeing persecution during the Portuguese Inquisition. After Brazil became a Portuguese colony in 1500, many forcibly converted Jews—called New Christians or conversos—sought refuge there. Though outwardly Catholic, many secretly continued practicing Judaism as Crypto-Jews.

These settlers brought crucial skills, particularly in medicine, agriculture, trade, and sugar production. But their safety was short-lived. By the late 16th century, the Inquisition had reached Brazil. In areas like Bahia and Pernambuco, Crypto-Jews were arrested and tried. Despite great risks, many preserved Jewish traditions—lighting Sabbath candles, observing dietary laws, and passing down Hebrew prayers.

What was Jewish life like under Dutch rule in Brazil?

In 1630, the Dutch seized northeastern Brazil, including Recife, creating a rare haven for Jews in the Americas. Sephardic Jews arrived from Amsterdam and the Caribbean, finding—for the first time in the New World—the freedom to worship openly.

In 1636, they established Kahal Zur Israel, the first synagogue in the Americas. The community included a rabbi, schools, charities, and governing institutions modeled after those in Amsterdam. By 1642, Rabbi Isaac Aboab da Fonseca had arrived, and the Jewish population in Recife reached 1,500. Jewish merchants played a vital role in the sugar trade, boosting the Dutch economy.

However, this Golden age was short-lived. When the Portuguese recaptured Recife in 1654, Jews faced renewed persecution. Some fled, including a group of 23 who reached New Amsterdam (now New York), laying the foundation for Jewish life in North America. Others remained, returning to secrecy and preserving traditions quietly, especially in Brazil’s interior. Their legacy is still felt today in subtle family customs and whispered stories passed down for generations.

Today, there are believed to be millions of descendants of Sephardic Jews living in Brazil. What does that mean in today’s context?

Yes, research suggests that millions of Brazilians are descended from conversos—families that, over centuries, kept fragments of Jewish tradition, often unknowingly. We’ve encountered many individuals drawn to their roots by a family custom or story that didn’t align with mainstream culture.

In today’s climate of surging antisemitism, rediscovering this heritage can be a powerful affirmation of resilience and identity. It shows that Jewish history is about more than persecution—it’s about continuity and reclaiming identity. JHA supports this reality with a planned initiative titled “The Converso Online Community,” which will help people trace their ancestry and engage more deeply with Jewish life. In Brazil, it’s more than a historical footnote—it’s a cultural awakening. We see this awakening reflected in grassroots movements, local festivals, and even new synagogues reestablishing themselves in places once thought to have forgotten their Jewish past.

How did Jewish migration to Brazil evolve in modern times?

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, thousands of Ashkenazi Jews fled Eastern Europe due to pogroms and poverty, settling in Brazil. While some joined rural colonies in the south, most moved to urban centers like São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Porto Alegre.

By the mid-20th century, Brazil had a thriving Jewish infrastructure—with schools, synagogues, newspapers, and cultural institutions. Jews have made lasting contributions in education, commerce, science, the arts, and politics. Today, Brazil is home to over 100,000 Jews—one of the largest Jewish communities in Latin America.

How does Brazil fit into the growing trend of Jewish heritage tourism?

This history isn’t just compelling to read – it lives on in people, cities, and communities. That’s why we’re launching a Jewish Heritage Tour of Brazil, offering a chance to walk in the footsteps of those early Jewish pioneers. From Recife’s synagogue to the interior towns shaped by Crypto-Jews, it’s an unforgettable journey of rediscovery. It allows people not just to see the sites but to feel the heartbeat of a people who persisted against all odds.

Final thoughts

Michael Steinberger’s insights illuminate a deeply layered narrative of Jewish life in Brazil—one shaped by secrecy, survival, and surprising continuity. From the Inquisition to modern identity reclamation, Brazil’s Jewish story is not just part of history—it’s still unfolding.

Notes

Jewish Heritage Alliance. Coming Soon – Jewish Heritage Tour of Brazil. Jewish Heritage Alliance.