When Ancestors Give You Haterade

Facebook ad and caption inviting the people of León, Spain to "Matar Judíos."

Being Latino and Jewish, with a family tree that extends back to early colonial Latin America and medieval Iberia, I've come across a number of heartbreaking remnants of ancient anti-Semitism. It started about 15 years ago, when I learned I had a 16th-century Spanish-born ancestor with the last name "Matajudíos" -- "Jew-killer." Of course, I knew of the Jewish expulsion from Spain in 1492, but seeing a Spaniard with such a surname was unsettling. 

Soon after, I found another ancestor's petition for an encomienda, stating he was a "nephew of the Inquisitor Juan Ortíz." Now I had a relative who worked for the Spanish Inquisition, in the Cartagena branch?!? It was certainly upsetting, but I could mentally distance myself from this man, since I never found evidence clarifying this supposed family connection. The inquisitor in question was probably Juan Ortíz de la Maza, who was a forgettable, corrupt colonial official. More of a Mel Brooks character than a Torquemada, Inquisitor Juan was accused of pilfering funds and sleeping with someone's wife. Apparently he did a poor job of running the local "Holy Office," which in a broader historical perspective is maybe the best thing he could have done with the Inquisition. 

Then, in 2021, I found a direct ancestor who took his Inquisition job seriously. My likely 5th-great-grandfather, Lázaro María de Herrera Leiva y Cornelis, served as the alguacil mayor (chief bailiff) of Cartagena's Inquisition from the 1780s through the 1810s. Frankly, I have not had the stomach to look up what Lázaro did in his perverse pursuit of "justice," but the Spanish national archives have digitized his genealogical application to join the Inquisition, where he had to prove that he and his wife were of "pure" "old Christian" blood, with no ancestors who had converted or belonged to any "mala raza" -- "bad race." 

The start of Lázaro's genealogical file (1786)

As I explained on my podcast, "Rediscovering Latinidad," it was a particularly upsetting to see Lázaro's list of "bad races" -- "heretics," Jews, Muslims, Romani, Blacks, "mulattoes," Indians, Lutherans. Lázaro undoubtedly had a mixture of nations and creeds in his family tree, just like me and most likely you and most people.

This January, I found another likely ancestor among the victims of the Inquisition: two Colombian brothers who were distant relations applied in 1648 to join the Knights of the Order of Santiago, and in response imperial Spanish bureaucracy scrutinized and agonized over their genealogy. Astoundingly, the investigators traveled to Sevilla and interviewed multiple witnesses about a rumor that the brothers' 5th-great-grandfather was a man named Manuel Bazo, who had been burned at the stake by the Inquisition way back in the 1480s!

Learning about Manuel Bazo's tragic story was bad enough, but the degree of disgust used when referencing Manuel was especially sad. His memory was hated, and having him as an ancestor was viewed as the worst possible fate. I felt especially depressed considering Manuel's violent death and reviled legacy. A couple months later, I found yet another sinister ancestral connection to hate -- in particular, a bizarre custom still present in modern Spain.

I learned from the genealogist Rocío Sánchez that the de la Plata family -- a prominent family in my grandfather's region of Santander Department, Colombia -- stemmed from a Spanish hidalgo named Andrés Marquez de Omaña y Rivadeneira. This so-and-so in 1590 Sevilla made a point of proving before authorities that he descended from a noble family in Asturias, and had a special letter patent of nobility made up to show off his status. 

The first page of Andrés Marquez de Omaña y Rivadeneira's letter patent of nobility.

Vain Andrés's document was amazingly digitized by the University of Missouri!, and it states his maternal grandfather was another hidalgo named Ares de Omaña "el Rubio" (the Blond). The Omaña family was low-ranking nobility, and they had married into an older noble family, the Quiñones family.

 The medieval Quiñones family was a real rotten bunch, centered in León, but collecting taxes in Asturias and taking part in Iberia's many, many civil wars. One ancestor was murdered in church in 1328, another was murdered by his cousins in a castle in 1408. After the second murder, my branch of the family was relocated from León to Asturias, while the main Quiñones branch stayed in León and continued to accrue wealth and power.

Broadcast journalist John Quiñones -- one of the few good Quiñones.

To my surprise, I found a Leonese Quiñones had ended up in New York! ...Sort of. This past weekend, I went to the Hispanic Society of America, in the Washington Heights neighborhood of upper Manhattan, to catch the last day of the exhibit "Spanish Style: Fashion Illuminated 1550-1700." It did a fantastic job of showcasing the distinctive fashions of imperial Spain, through a wide-ranging collection of paintings, letters patent of nobility, jewelry and lace, religious icons and talismans, and funerary sculpture.

The inner "patio" of the Hispanic Society of America.

Curator Amanda Wunder very cleverly incorporated a wing of funerary sculpture into the exhibit. In the center of the sculpture gallery are two intricately carved, naturalistic marble effigies of a nobleman and noblewoman, dating from the late 1500s. From a distance they look like stiff, toppled pillars, but on closer inspection they seem to be in stony slumber, cradled in all their ruffled finery, with the wife clutching a prayerbook and the husband grasping a sword. I remembered this couple from more than 20 years ago, when I was an intern for the Hispanic Society, leading tours around the building. But only this past weekend did I learn their names: Suero de Quiñones and Elvira de Zúñiga.

The effigies of Suero de Quiñones and Elvira de Zúñiga, with accompanying placard.

Indeed, this Suero was a member of my distant Quiñones family! Suero had married his cousin Elvira, who had died in 1565, and in 1579 he commissioned Francisco de la Maza to sculpt the effigies. Suero in turn died in 1588, and his eternal slumber was disturbed in the 1830s, when the monestary was decommissioned, abandoned, and turned into private property. Many former Spanish sacred spaces were carved up and sold as art pieces. 

Don Suero the museum display

The effigies of Suero and Elvira were apparently sold in 1904, shipped to Paris, and swiftly acquired by the New York philanthropist Archer Milton Huntington. I have a soft spot for Archer for being an unapologetic, laser-focused nerd who followed his life's passions of collecting art and manuscripts and founding museums. The story goes that as a boy, Archer turned cigar boxes into tiny replicas of museum galleries -- adorable! And to Archer's credit, the Hispanic Society that he officially opened in 1908 still remains a completely free museum in the middle of an increasingly expensive New York City. It seems Suero and Elvira have remained on display since 1913, thousands of miles from their original tombs.

While Googling Suero de Quiñones, I learned of his namesake great-grandfather who earned a lasting reputation as a gallant knight. Acting sincerely in a way that Don Quijote later lampooned, the knight Suero de Quiñones (1409-1456) pledged to earn the love of Doña Leonor de Tovar in 1434 through a "Passo Honrosso" -- staying at a bridge and challenging every knight who crossed to jousting. Suero swore to "break 300 lances," and fought 166 (or 176?) jousting matches before his injuries forced him to stop. Only one knight had died! 

Suero then made a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, where he donated a gold necklace that to this day still adorns the neck of the reliquary of St. James the Lesser (*the "Santiago"). The necklace's inscription roughly says, "If you do not wish to return my love, I shall have no happiness." It seems that Suero did marry Leonor and lived another two decades before dying in battle.  

The reliquary of St. James the Lesser (the "Santiago" in Santiago of Compostela), still wearing Suero's choker after nearly 600 years.

A more heinous story about Suero de Quiñones says that in 1449 he was deeply in debt to a Jewish merchant in the city of León. To avoid paying his debts, Suero started a riot (or pogrom, if you will) during Holy Week against the Jews of León, and the lender was among the slaughtered Jews. Presumably Suero then attended church on Good Friday and knelt while the prayer to the "perfidious Jews" was recited.

In memory of this massacre, it became a Holy Week tradition in León to drink blood-red lemonade after saying "¡Matar judíos!" ("Kill Jews!") as a repulsive toast. Astonishgly, townsfolk in León proudly consider "Matar Judíos" to be a harmless tradition, which in no way could be considered insulting or anti-Semitic! It makes Borat seem subtle.

This Facebook post says, "Starting today we can start to Matar Judíos (LEMONADE) and [eat] our typical tapas of the season."

Through the internet, the broader world is increasingly aware of León's problematic "heritage." The nearly town of Castrillo Matajudíos (Fort Kill Jews) finally changed its name in 2015 to "Castrillo Mota de Judíos" (Fort Jews' Hill). But search for "Matar Judíos" on Facebook, and you will find a number of disturbing posts, including at least one Leonese restaurant advertising the lemonade this year, as Holy Week approaches.

My Facebook search turned up posts like: 

• "There's no Holy Week in #León without lemonade and the deeply rooted tradition of Matar Judíos." 
• "Come, a centuries-old tradition in León, to Matar Judíos!"
• "I have my wish... to drink and Matar Judíos! (In León on Holy Week we drink lemonade... this is 'matar judíos' ... it's not literal today... although it must have been in its time... because of Christ... I imagine... not for what they do now to the Palestinians! They should be ashamed)"

It's shocking and upsetting, and yet not surprising, that after many centuries of ingrained anti-Semitism, Spaniards would view a "Kill Jews!" drinking game as inoffensive fun, or part of their cultural heritage. I only learned about this today, so I have yet to process my feelings. Maybe the uncovering of historical context can help people understand when they are being callous and uncaring. Maybe.  

Questions? Comments? Please email me at ruedafingerhut (at) gmail.com.