The Hidden Jews of Southern Italy:
Anusim of Calabria, Sicily, and Puglia

A woman in New Jersey writes to us about her grandmother, who came from a village in the province of Cosenza.
On Friday evenings the grandmother lit two candles and said they were for the dead. The family didn't eat pork. In Calabria where the household pig is the center of the winter economy and 'nduja is a regional identity. When someone died, the mirrors were covered.

She wants to know whether this means what she has begun to suspect. The honest answer it's possible. And the way to find out isn't through the candles.

Anusim and B'nai Anusim: What the Words Mean

Anusim is the halachic term for Jews converted under duress rather than by choice. The distinction matters in Jewish law and it's the reason the category exists at all. B'nai anusim refers to their descendants, often many generations removed.

In southern Italian archives the operative word is Italian: neofiti, the newly baptized. This wan't a metaphor. It was a legal and fiscal category and it followed families for generations. Neofiti appear as such in notarial deeds, tax rolls, baptismal registers, and municipal disputes long after the conversion itself. In Trani, local campaigns to bar neofiti from public office continued into the fifteenth century, decades after the community's forced baptism.

That bureaucratic persistence is the single fact that makes this research possible. A family that vanished into Catholicism without a trace cannot be found. A family recorded as neofita in a 1548 baptism can.

Two Histories: Sicily in 1493, Calabria and Puglia from 1290

Southern Italy is usually discussed as a unit. For this question it must be split.

Sicily was an Aragonese possession and the expulsion edict of 31 March 1492 applied to it directly. The Sicilian viceroy and much of the island's nobility resisted cause the economic damage was obvious and won a series of postponements. The deadline finally fell on 12 January 1493. Estimates of the Jewish population range from roughly 30,000 to 40,000, distributed across more than fifty towns. In Palermo alone the community numbered around five thousand. Those who could not or would not leave were baptized. Fewer than two hundred converso families remained in Palermo afterward.

The mainland (Calabria, Puglia, Basilicata, Campania) belonged to the Kingdom of Naples, which wasn't Spanish in 1492. Its conversion history is older and messier.
In the 1290s, Charles II of Anjou ordered the forced baptism of the kingdom's Jews. Synagogues became churches. This is the origin of the mainland neofiti two centuries before Ferdinand and Isabella. In the 1380s, Trani's remaining three hundred and ten Jews were forcibly converted and all four of the town's synagogues confiscated. In 1492 and 1493 the kingdom briefly became a refuge for Spanish and Sicilian exiles. In 1495 the French invasion brought pogroms and another wave of conversions. In 1510, with Spain now in control, the Jews were expelled from the entire kingdom. About two hundred wealthy families bought the right to stay. In 1515 the neofiti themselves were ordered out. In 1541 the expulsion became final, and open Jewish life in southern Italy ended for three centuries.

The practical consequence for research: if your family is Sicilian, the decisive year is 1493, and the surviving record is thin but concentrated. If your family is Calabrian or Apulian, the family may have been Catholic on paper since the 1290s and the trail runs through five separate crises, not one.

Crypto-Jewish Practice in Southern Italian Households and Its Limits

The reported patterns are consistent enough to be worth listing. Two candles lit at dusk on Friday, usually explained as a memorial for the dead. Abstention from pork in a food culture built on it. Rapid burial in plain wood without embalming with the body washed at home. A period of sitting in the house afterward. Covered mirrors. Sweeping dust toward the center of a room rather than out the door. Marriage confined for generations to the same handful of village families.

This is also where careful research parts company with wishful reading, and it's worth being direct about why.

The most instructive precedent isn't Italian but American. For thirty years scholars have argued over the crypto-Jews of New Mexico whether the customs observed in Hispano families there descend from colonial-era conversos or arrived by other routes. The critique, most forcefully made by the folklorist Judith Neulander against the historian Stanley Hordes, was never that crypto-Judaism didn't exist. It was that a custom, on its own, cannot establish a chain of transmission. Friday candles have Catholic memorial parallels. Plain burial is what poverty produces. Sabbath-observing Protestant sects were active in places where crypto-Jewish claims later flourished.

None of that makes the Calabrian grandmother wrong. It establishes the correct weight: family practice is a reason to open an investigation. It isn't a finding. It tells us which village to look in and which century to start from. It never substitutes for a document.

Italian Jewish Surnames in Sicily and Calabria: A Direction, Not a Verdict

Lists of "Jewish Sicilian surnames" circulate widely online, often running to several hundred names, almost never sourced. They should be treated as unusable.

What does exist is narrower and far more useful: names attested as neofiti in specific towns in specific records. The baptismal codex of Termini Imerese, covering 1542 to 1548, records neofiti families under names including Salamone, Palumbo, Saccomanno, Levitza, and d'Amato. Note how ordinary most of these are. A few Sicilian names are transparent: Salamone from Solomon, Rabino from rabbi, Siino sometimes proposed from Sion. The great majority are not, because baptismal surnames were routinely taken from a godfather, a parish, a trade, or a town.

Our standard applies here without modification: a surname indicates a research direction, not confirmed descent. In a Calabrian village of four hundred people, two families with the same name are frequently unrelated. The name gets us into the archive. Only the archive answers the question.

The Archives That Burned: Inquisition Records for Sicily and the South

Expectations need resetting, and this is the section where most families are surprised.
Sicily had a Spanish Inquisition tribunal, seated in Palermo, operating from the early sixteenth century until the viceroy Domenico Caracciolo abolished it in 1782. The following year the tribunal's archive was burned. The trial dossiers that people imagine are, for Sicily, largely gone.

What survives is real but different in character: the correspondence between the Palermo tribunal and the Suprema in Madrid, held in the Archivo Histórico Nacional; the tribunal's fiscal and confiscation records in the Archivio di Stato di Palermo, which include unusually detailed inventories of seized property; and Shlomo Simonsohn's eighteen-volume documentary collection The Jews in Sicily, which gathers archival material from across the island and is the starting point for any serious Sicilian search.

On the mainland the situation is different again. The attempt to establish a Spanish-style Inquisition in Naples in 1510 collapsed under popular revolt. There is no Neapolitan inquisitorial trial archive comparable to Spain's or Portugal's. For a Calabrian or Apulian family, the evidence lives in notarial acts in parish baptismal and marriage registers from the mid-sixteenth century onward, in feudal and fiscal records, and in the accounts of the Regia Camera della Sommaria.

Expect a notary's ledger, not a confession.

DNA Testing and Sicilian Jewish Heritage: What It Can and Cannot Do

Southern Italians and Sicilians carry substantial Near Eastern and North African ancestry that has nothing to do with Jewish settlement. Phoenician, Greek, Roman-era Levantine, Arab, and Norman layers accumulated over two and a half millennia; genome-wide studies of Sicily and southern Italy describe a continuous Mediterranean gradient extending toward Greece and Cyprus. A "Middle Eastern" or "North African" percentage in a Sicilian result is expected. It is not evidence of Jewish descent.

Two further limits. Consumer reference panels for Sephardic ancestry are built from modern communities descended from those who left: Turkish, Balkan, Moroccan, Iraqi. Converso families who stayed are not represented in them. And a single ancestor converted in the 1490s sits roughly fifteen generations back; the expected genetic contribution falls below reliable detection.

DNA is genuinely useful for finding living relatives and for confirming or breaking a line you have already documented. It is not a verdict. A null result is not disproof, and one percent "Sephardic" is not proof.

Sephardic Certificates: Both Spain and Portugal Have Now Closed

This changed very recently and most people have not caught up.
Spain's Law 12/2015 closed to new applications on 1 October 2019. Portugal's route long assumed to be the durable one is also gone: the Jewish Community of Lisbon stopped accepting new certification submissions on 4 May 2026, and Lei Orgânica n.º 1/2026 entered into force on 19 May 2026, revoking the Sephardic naturalization provision entirely. Applications filed before those dates continue under the previous rules.

There is a second point worth making plainly. Both laws required a demonstrable link to Iberian Sephardic ancestry. A Calabrian family converted under the Angevins in the 1290s would not have qualified in any case, having no Iberian connection at all. Only families who arrived from Spain after 1492 and remained in the south had a plausible claim.

Italian citizenship by descent is a separate legal question with its own recent restrictions, and it is not a heritage route. We treat it separately.
What remains is the original reason to do this work: to know. That is a cleaner motive, and in our experience a more durable one.

How Radici Works with Italian Anusim Families

This research differs from classical Italian-Jewish genealogy in method, not just in subject.

We start from the Catholic record. Your family will appear as Catholic across the entire documented period. Parish registers, notarial acts, and cadastral records are the primary sources. The question isn't whether the family was Catholic but whether the sixteenth-century record marks it as neofita.

We reconstruct the town before the family. In the Italian south the meaningful unit is the comune: which giudecca, which parish, which surviving register series. Half the work is establishing what documentation exists for that village at all.

We look for the legal marker. Neofito status was recorded because it carried consequences: exclusion from office, differential taxation, constrained marriage patterns. Where registers survive from the 1540s onward, that marker is sometimes visible.

We say when the answer is no. Southern archives have suffered from war, fire, flood, and neglect, and a substantial number of searches end in an honest negative or an unreachable record. Our preliminary assessment, La Ricerca, exists partly to deliver that verdict before a family commits to a full project. A recommendation not to proceed is a legitimate result, and we charge for it accordingly.

We separate research from religious status. Documented descent from neofiti is a historical finding. It does not confer Jewish status. The Italian rabbinate applies the same conversion requirements to descendants of anusim as to anyone else, and we state that once and neutrally because families deserve to hear it early rather than late. We are genealogists. Families who wish to pursue the religious question are directed to the appropriate rabbinic channels.

Visiting Jewish Sicily, Calabria, and Puglia Today

There is something to visit now, which was not true twenty years ago.

In Trani, the thirteenth-century Scolanova, confiscated in the 1380s and used as a church for six centuries, was returned to Jewish use in 2005 and functions again as a synagogue. The former Scola Grande nearby now houses the Jewish collection of the Diocesan Museum. In Palermo, the Archdiocese transferred the Oratory of Santa Maria del Sabato to the Jewish community in January 2017, on the anniversary of the 1493 expulsion; the building stands on Vicolo Meschita in the old Giudecca, above the ruins of the Great Synagogue, and its restoration is now being funded by the city. At Bova Marina, on the Calabrian coast, the mosaic floor of a fourth-century synagogue, one of the oldest in Europe, was uncovered during road construction in 1983 and is open as an archaeological park.

For a family that has spent a year in the archives, standing in the parish where an ancestor was baptized neofita is a different experience from reading about it. That is the journey we build.
Where to Begin

If your Calabrian grandmother lit candles on Friday night, that is not proof of anything. It is a question and unlike most family questions, this one has archives behind it.

La Ricerca is our preliminary archival assessment: we establish which records survive for your family's comune, what the surname indicates and does not, and whether a full investigation is likely to reach an answer. It costs $950 and is credited in full toward a full research project within ninety days. If the honest recommendation is not to proceed, we will tell you that, and you will still know more than you do now.
Made on
Tilda