A trio of Israeli synagogues and their American relatives

Posted

Italian synagogue in the Israel Museum./George GoodwinItalian synagogue in the Israel Museum./George Goodwin

Whenever and wherever I travel, I love visiting synagogues.  Through famous or obscure examples, I seek to enrich my understanding of how beauty and holiness converge.

On my recent trip to Israel, I had fully expected to encounter some exceptional synagogues.  Indeed, can one find a more unusual house of prayer than the Kotel, which is not a house at all?  If so, perhaps it is a holy land.

Having been deeply impressed by several synagogues, I would like to highlight a trio.  In one way or another, they also belong to the Diaspora, as does Israel.

The most obvious example is a miniature but magnificent Ashkenazi synagogue, which may have accommodated a hundred worshippers on Shabbat.  This rectangular structure was built more than three centuries ago in a northeastern Italian hamlet, which became known, after World War I, as Vittorio Veneto. Its Jews were not victorious, however, for the synagogue outlasted its community. 

In 1965, the synagogue’s interior was reassembled in Jerusalem, within the new Israel Museum. Ironically, this story of resurrection is almost the opposite told about the Virgin Mary’s dwelling. During the 13th century, angels had miraculously transported it from Nazareth to Loreto on Italy’s Adriatic coast. 

Visitors are welcome to walk across the tiny synagogue’s floor to behold the ornately carved and gilded ark, which, also through its curvature, exemplifies the Baroque. Visitors may also peer down from the sequestered women’s gallery, as if they were maidens or matriarchs. Still an island of tranquility, this silent sanctuary invites peaceful prayer and prayerful peace.

Another synagogue, located a half-hour’s drive west, among the Judean hills in Ein Kerem, has become, despite its modest size, one of the 20th century’s most celebrated. This diminutive but uplifting asylum was built for Hadassah Medical Center in 1962.

Marc Chagall, one of modernism’s greatest artists, who lived in Russia, France, America and France again, designed its 12 opulent, stained glass windows.  Over a period of seven months, working at a glass atelier in Reims, he also painted their inward-facing surfaces with pigment and acid. Each gently arched window, consisting of countless shards, stands 11 feet high and eight feet wide.  Three windows adorn each side of an otherwise plain box designed by Joseph Neufeld.

Awash in primary and secondary colors – some as warm as others are cool – the windows portray the 12 Tribes of Israel. Given my fondness for yellow, I felt particularly drawn to the windows representing Levi, Naphtali and Joseph. All tribes, however, are identifiable by swooning creatures, spinning planets, shooting stars and swaying Hebrew letters. Shifting patterns of light and darkness provide further animation and magnetism. 

So enthusiastically received, the Hadassah windows brought Chagall several, large-scale decorative commissions. Nine were for church windows in Britain, France, Switzerland and West Germany. He also accepted requests for murals and mosaics. 

It should not be forgotten that when Temple Beth-El’s new synagogue in Providence was planned in the early 1950s, Percival Goodman, its architect, thought of asking Chagall to design tapestry-like curtains.

The Hadassah windows coincided with the creation of a stunning ensemble of 30 windows for B’nai Israel’s synagogue, in Woonsocket, dedicated in 1962. Avigdor Arikha, a Romanian survivor brought to Israel by Hadassah’s angels, designed them. Samuel Glaser, B’nai Israel’s architect, discovered Arikha’s work in Paris, where the young painter endeavored to establish his reputation.

A third Israeli synagogue, located on Tel Aviv University’s campus, near Beit Hatfutsot (the Museum of the Jewish People), merits international renown.  The donors were a Swiss couple, Norbert and Paulette Cymbalista. 

As Polish Jews living in northern France during World War II, Norbert and his sister, Miriam, were saved by Righteous Gentiles. In 1953, thanks again to Hadassah, the orphaned children were brought to Israel.

Norbert and Paulette engaged one of Switzerland’s most imaginative architects, Mario Botta, who has worked widely in Europe. Many of his most astonishing creations are churches. His major American building, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, was completed in 1995. A second art museum, the Bechtler, was built in Charlotte, North Carolina, five years ago.

Despite its puzzling stone exterior, which features round, twin towers arising from square bases, the Cymbalista synagogue, dedicated in 1998, has a quite simple and inviting interior.  A sanctuary is located on one side of a foyer, an auditorium and a study hall on the other. Probably inspired by Louis Kahn, the great American-Jewish architect, the towers serve as funnels for gathering and disseminating light. 

Although the Cymbalista sanctuary may seat only a few hundred worshippers on one level, it feels monumental in scale. Part of this effect is achieved through the minimal use of decoration; such materials as wood, onyx and granite provide their own resplendence. Unlike many recent American synagogues, which feature “multipurpose” spaces, every pew, lectern and bookcase is carefully and securely positioned in relation to the ark. 

Although Botta’s design conforms to no particular style, it represents high style at its finest.

GEORGE GOODWIN  has been a member of Temple Beth-El since 1987.