Sunday, 26 July 2026!

What a few days… weeks… months. So let’s just focus on a part of it!

These past few days we were “visiting” our daughter in Amsterdam, where she is completing her internship after spending five months studying abroad. If you have read my previous posts, you probably know how much I struggle being separated from my children and family for long periods of time. By the time we saw her, she had already been away from home for seven months, making this visit all the more special.

That being said, we also managed to see my parents in Paris for a few days last weekend and, of course, my in-laws in the Netherlands over the past few weeks.

I have always loved Amsterdam. It’s probably one of the cities I know best, aside from Paris, New York, and Luxembourg City.

One thing I have noticed while living abroad is that, for those of us who live outside Israel, we are all, in one way or another, part of the Jewish diaspora. There is something comforting about walking into a synagogue almost anywhere in the world and feeling at home. Of course, there are different traditions, customs, and melodies depending on where you are, but the core is the same. The prayers are the same. Our family histories may all be different, yet somehow they also share so much.

One thing that is not much fun is spending Shabbat or the holidays alone! We have always loved opening our table to others wherever we have lived, and we have always found welcoming communities along the way.

This being said, I don’t believe this is unique to one community. I remember welcoming a French family member of a friend of one of my daughter’s classmates when they were stranded in New York after having their wallet stolen.

Anyway… I’m digressing.

Over the past three Shabbatot, we spent two in Amsterdam and one in Paris.

This last Shabbat was our second at the old Portuguese Synagogue of Amsterdam, also called the Snoge (from the Portuguese word Esnoga, meaning synagogue), and we were so touched by its history, its traditions, and the warmth of its community.

For a long time, this synagogue was the largest ever built. Of course, we contacted the community ahead of time, and as you arrive you pass through security. Amsterdam, like so many places around the world, has seen a rise in antisemitism. I’m not going to go into the flags and signs I can barely stomach seeing anymore, or the conversations I had—thankfully civil—with a few people in the streets once they realized I was Jewish.

Then you enter this centuries-old synagogue and immediately feel a sense of humility.

Thank G it’s still an active synagogue.

It always breaks my heart when a synagogue becomes only a museum.

To think that the Sephardic community built it more than three centuries ago, that it has witnessed so much history, and that its traditions are still respected to this day—including, among many others, the men wearing their traditional high top hats during the service.

I was able to follow most of the prayers. Their prayer book is a little different—mostly in Hebrew—and, with the help of the women sitting around me, I managed to find the right pages. In the end, I mostly followed from memory.

We all came away feeling that it had been such a special service, and how warmly we had been welcomed and included.

After the service we were invited to the Kiddush—the blessings over the wine and the motzi, followed by lunch—where we met wonderful families, including one who recently opened Maison Douce, a kosher French pâtisserie. What a blessing for the community! Kosher options in Amsterdam are limited, and beyond that… their pastries are simply exceptional.

For our second Shabbat, we were there both Friday night and Saturday morning, having also been invited to the Shabbat dinner held inside the Snoge as part of its 351st anniversary celebration. What a privilege and what a gift. I lit the Shabbat candles there, and so did our daughter. It was a very special moment.

My husband is Dutch, as is his family, and although my Dutch roots are much more distant, my father’s side also includes Dutch ancestors: the Van Damme family.

Coming back to the Snoge and its beautiful community, its president, M. D. S. , gave a beautiful speech after the Saturday morning service. He drew a parallel between that week’s Torah portion and the synagogue’s 351st anniversary. Sometimes, he said, we are not here to finish a mission. We are here to receive what has been entrusted to us, preserve it, and pass it on to the next generation as beautifully as we received it.

M M. B. then gave a second speech recalling one of the founders of the Portuguese Jewish community in the seventeenth century. He reminded us that the words and vision of those founders have been preserved through the centuries in Ets Haim–Livraria Montezinos, one of the oldest—and the oldest continuously functioning—Jewish libraries in the world.

He reminded us that we all have so much at our fingertips, and that it is up to us not to limit ourselves, but to reach for the stars and bring more light into the world, as it should be.

This wasn’t mentioned during the speeches, but throughout the weekend my husband kept repeating one fact. On 9 May 1945, only four days after the liberation of the Netherlands and the end of the war in Europe, the Snoge held its first service again.

It means a lot.

Just four days.

What an extraordinary act of resilience.

Not simply surviving, but choosing almost immediately to pray again, to gather again, and to continue a tradition that others had tried so hard to erase.

When you walk through Amsterdam and pay attention to where you place your feet, you notice the small brass plates set into the pavement—the Stolpersteine—bearing the names of people who were deported and murdered during the Second World War. Before the war, Amsterdam was home to nearly 100,000 Jews. We also learned that 3,750 members of the Portuguese Jewish community were deported and murdered.

They are numbers.

But they were real people.

Real families.

As we walked through the neighborhood, my husband found one of those stones bearing the name Victor de Vries, 44 years old, deported and murdered, together with his family.

Thank G we live.

Thank G we rebuild.

Facts are facts, and history should not repeat itself. We are all guardians of each other’s future, and hate should not poison our perception. It is often easier to follow the masses and buy into an agenda that is not for the good of our world. So I appeal to you: don’t turn your eyes away. Think for yourselves.

Today, once again, is a reminder that we control very little except who we choose to be, and how we act and react.

Our flight home was heavily delayed. We have been awake since 6:40 this morning—my husband even earlier. We left for the airport around 7:10, boarded the plane, got off again, and then boarded once more.

Tomorrow is our son Victor’s birthday, and we were hoping not to spend it traveling. We have honestly lost count of how many birthdays he has spent on airplanes. I hope we’ll be able to celebrate with him at home, just as he wished, and not somewhere in transit.

Note to self: don’t plan travel the day before his birthday again.

As dots—or stars—in the sky—we are all connected.

Our paths cross for a reason, separate, and often meet again.

We will carry this very special community in our hearts and, I hope, our paths will cross again.

If you ever find yourself in Amsterdam, visit the Snoge if you can. It carries so much more than its stones can tell. More than three centuries later, it is still alive, still praying, still welcoming.

And while you’re there… don’t leave without stopping at Maison Douce for one of their delicious French pastries.

Thank you again to this incredible community for such a warm welcome.

With much love,

Jessica de Vreeze and family

And to all of you, thank you for taking the time to read this rather long post. I wish you a wonderful end to your weekend and a beautiful start to the week—one filled with love, light, and meaningful encounters.

As for me, I have already started translating this latest journey to Amsterdam into art.

Some stories ask for words. Others ask for photo and paint. This one needed both. 🤍

With love and light 

Jessica 

To visit the synagogue the Snoge : https://jck.nl/en/location/portuguese-synagogue

For Maison Douce Check their IG

Maison Douce Amsterdam

It’s right next to the Synagogue the Hortus and the Artis.