“It’s just kind of amazing,” Victoria said. She was a sweet, pretty girl with a decided love for her mom and peace in the world, as we had found out in one of our icebreakers. We were walking out of the Jewish firehouse into the sun, having just gotten a “VIP” tour from one of the firemen. “What?” I asked her. I glanced to my right, amazed at the mountains that just seemed to appear out of nowhere, as if the city had come first and the mountains second.
“That Jews always do this,” Victoria responded. “Do what?” I asked. I was still giddy from sliding down the fireman’s pole. “That they are such a small community but somehow always manage to come together and do something good,” she continued. “Like, look at this,” she said, gesturing back to the firehouse. “A bunch of Jews in the middle of Chile get together and start a firehouse for the Santiagan community. That’s what Jews are about.”
I looked back at the two rescue trucks behind us, emblazoned with blue Jewish stars and the words “Cavod vhazalah (honor and rescue).”
What she was referring to was our first activity on our trip to Chile.
Jetlagged and exhausted, we had walked into what was described on our itinerary as simply “Jewish firehouse.” I didn’t even know that a firehouse could be Jewish. It seemed sort of idiosyncratic: Jews aren’t exactly known as being the most physical of races, which is what firefighting, to me, entails.
But this was no ordinary firehouse. And these were no ordinary firemen.
It was founded in 1954 by a group of Jews in Chile to express gratitude and appreciation towards the country and its people for taking in the Jews pre, during, and post-Holocaust. The firehouse is run completely on a volunteer basis, and even requires a small monthly donation from its volunteers (which is more symbolic than anything else, they said). The fireman all adopt the task of saving lives and stomping out fires secondarily to their normal lives- they are all in university or working professionally- but when that SOS call comes in on their cell phones, they literally stop, drop, and roll to get their way to that fire, and fast. The amount of time between when a call comes in and when the firemen arrive is approximately seven minutes.
Impressed by the hefty responsibility they had taken on, I assumed that the Chileans’ deed to the Jews also must have been huge: Had they taken in more Jews than other South American countries?
“No,” one of the firemen answered. He looked about twenty-five and a cacophony of dark curls sprawled on his head. His name was Alex, and he was quite a lovely guy. “Argentina took many more Jews,” he continued, “There are not so many Jews in Chile.”
But although Chile’s deed had not really been extraordinary, the Jews had felt a need to give back by building the firehouse for their new home and its inhabitants.
Jews always feel this need to help others.
And so the conversation trailed to this very topic, as we sat in the basement of our little yellow boutique hotel in Santiago. To what it means to be a Jew.
We discovered that there are many different things that we define as “being Jewish”: the belief in one God, a shared culture, history and traditions, even circumcision (ok, well, that one’s only for the men). But from all of these things a common thread emerged: values-one of which is the imperative to perform mitzvot.
As Jews we are taught these values; mitzvot, hard work, honor and integrity, loyalty, those among a myriad of others, from the time we are born. Whether the latter have their roots in the teachings of the Torah, in our constant struggle against persecution, or in our belief in God, are unclear. But what we do know is that we all seem to have them, somehow.
People often comment that “the Jews always manage to find each other.” Outsiders also say that they are amazed by how much the Jews support one another, defend one another, and help each other in day-to- day life. We are a sort of like a therapy group, constantly looking for ways to improve ourselves and one another.
But beyond helping ourselves, the fireman portrayed how avid the Jews are about going out of their way for others.
They commented that Chileans are often surprised when a fire truck bearing hallmarks of Judaism and Israel arrives to a rescue. Because the Jews typically reside in the bigger and nicer areas of the city, they said, the Chileans who don’t have trouble understanding why the Jews are there to help them.
Let’s just call it our values.
And so little, bright Victoria had hit on something: no matter where we are in the world, we do manage to come together and do “something good”, whether it be for ourselves, for our fellow Jews, or for others who have barely a relation to us whatsoever.
Inscribed on the firehouse wall above the number five was the word, “Superacion,” meaning “Exceeding expectations.”
Perhaps that is the key to our immortality.
Bienvenidos a Chile.

-Samantha

Written by: Samantha Karlin