Synagogues Once Stood Here: A Tisha B’Av Exploration

It’s Tisha B’Av afternoon and I’m walking through Harlem on my personal journey of mourning. I’ll traverse an entire region of abandoned shuls silent testimonies to our exile — where even the most stable of structures are but fleeting memories.

Synagogues    Once    Stood    Here:    A    Tisha    B’Av    Exploration

There are many ways of adding meaning and relevance to Tisha B’Av

Although Tisha B’Av is observed through fasting expressions of mourning and the recitation of Megillas Eichah and Kinos in our times at least communities and individuals often supplement these activities with additional experiences. How can we communicate added meaning and relevance to a day that has been with us for so long? I remember in the early nineties photographing the annual torch-lit procession that takes place the night of Tisha B’Av at Camp Morasha in Lake Como Pennsylvania; I’ve attended day-long learning programs in Brooklyn; I’ve sat together with others in air-conditioned synagogue halls and multipurpose rooms watching films (often taped interviews) produced especially for the day.

Then one Tisha B’Av afternoon about two decades ago just a few years after I had graduated college I decided I would wander around parts of Harlem and look at the structures that used to be synagogues. My grandfather was born in Harlem in 1900. As a young child and then a young man Harold Harris attended Congregation Ohab Zedek at an earlier location north of where it is today. The synagogue’s full name was First Hungarian Congregation Ohab Zedek. And Yossele Rosenblatt as he always liked to mention was the esteemed cantor.

My grandfather would proudly volunteer that information in the 1920s and 1930s during countless job interviews when asked at some later stage of the meeting after his credentials had been readily confirmed “And Mr.Harris what church do you attend?” His response was always: “I belong to Congregation Ohab Zedek Yossele Rosenblatt is the cantor …” I heard him tell this story numerous times along with the same ending sentence: “I’m sorry Mr. Harris but we don’t hire Jews.”

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