USA: Modern Orthodox / Orthodox Modernism II: Kesher Israel, Harrisburg, PA

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

 

 

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Modern Orthodox / Orthodox Modernism II: Kesher Israel, Harrisburg, PA.
by Samuel D. Gruber

I recently wrote about the innovative modernism of the Orthodox Congregation Beth Daivd in Binghamton, NY, designed by architect Werner Seligmann and dedicated in 1964.  Head almost due south to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and you'll find another fine example of a different sort of Modern Orthodox Modernism - this built in 1949, when American Jewish congregations were still grappling with defining a new style for post-Holocaust, post-World War II synagogue design. 

A few months ago I had the opportunity to visit several synagogues in the Harrisburg area, ranging from the small turn-of-the-20th-century Gothic vernacular shul of a congregation of Lithuanian Jews that settled in Middletown, to Classical and Byzantine style synagogues on Front Street, facing the Susquehanna River, to a brand new modern synagogue designed by Philadelphia architects Brawer & Haupmann that opened last year. 

Perhaps the synagogue that struck me the most, however, was the 1949 Orthodox Congregation Kesher Israel on 3rd Street, and its 1963 addition. Special thanks to Rabbi Akiva Males who allowed me access to all the spaces, and provided informed and lively commentary. The building is a well-preserved and striking example of the first wave of post-World War II synagogue modernism, built for the congregation to move to from its large two-towered Romanesque Revival style building at Capital and Briggs Streets, erected in 1918 and designed by Washington, DC based Jewish architect M. Silberstein. Along with the congregation and its Torah, the Ark and benches were taken to the new synagogue, too.

The 1940s synagogue is still in use, but plans are to eventually sell the building and move the much reduced congregation a few miles north to the city border near the JCC, where most of the Orthodox Community now lives. We tend to forget that Orthodox congregations were in the forefront of introducing modern architecture to Jewish communities, especially in cities.  In Europe between the World Wars, different "modernisms" competed, for example in the Orthodox synagogues in Czech Brno and Slovak Bratislava and Kosice.

In interwar America, there were similar style wars. In the 1920s a more decorative Art Deco was popular and this led to a more stripped down style that echoed the fine lines of Art Moderne or the clarity and simplicity of the International Style.  Former Congregation Beth Jacob in Miami Beach (where gangster Meyer Lansky donated a memorial window), is a good example of Orthodox Deco.  And Louis Kahn's first synagogues were built for Orthodox congregations in Philadelphia in the 1930 utilizing an austere functionalism - barely a step beyond simply utilitarian.

 Miami Beach, Florida. Ziff Jewish Museum of Florida, former Congregation Beth Jacob (1929). photo: Sam Gruber, 1997

Philadelphia, PA. Congregation Ahavath Israel, 6735 N. 16th Street. Louis Kahn, arch. (1935-37)

 

   

Philadelphia, PA. Congregation Ahavath Israel, 6735 N. 16th Street. Louis Kahn, arch. (1935-37)

Congregation Kesher Israel in Harrisburg, designed by local architect James William Minick, draws on both these traditions - one more austere and the other still somewhat decorative. The smooth limestone exterior walls and the polished granite of the entrance way are slick modern renditions of the popular interwar monumental  language of civic architecture. The straight and hard-edged window mullions suggest the rectangular compartmentalism of Mondrian's paintings - a device that would also be employed by Percival Goodman at his Milburn synagogue, though with a lighter touch. 

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel, 2nd bldg. at Capital and Briggs Sts. M. Silberstein, architect, 1918.

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. 1963 addition. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Our memories have been clouded by the abundance of expressive modern synagogues built in the suburbs, especially in the 1950s and 1960s - and it is true that these were mostly constructed by Reform and Conservative congregations that resettled in the suburbs under the carrot of the GI bill and Federal Highway program and the stick of urban red lining and block busting.

But in many cases, as in Harrisburg, Orthodox congregations built sooner after the war and then stayed much longer in urban neighborhoods than branches of the other congregations. For a Reform synagogue to relocate, often only a few wealthy movers and shakers had to make the decision. For an Orthodox synagogue to relocate most of the congregation had to be ready, since they'd live in walking distance from the shul.  But in smaller cities like Harrisburg, there hasn't been that much movement over all, and given the relatively short commute times, even the pre-war Reform and Conservative synagogues have mostly stayed put.

 

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Women's seating is on the left, adjacent to and raised slightly above the main seating area for men. Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

 

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. These windows and those in the original social hall are decorated with symbols of the twelve tribes, the zodiac and other motifs. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. The original social hall is behind the curtain. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. The ark was brought the 1918 synagogue at Capital and Briggs Streets. James William Minick, arch. (1949). Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Harrisburg, PA. Congregation Kesher Israel. James William Minick, arch. (1949). The star on the ceiling is a much simpler version of the similar near-contemporary decorative devices in Beth El congregation, Ft. Worth, TX (1947-48) the Hillcrest Jewish Center in Queens, NY, Photo: Samuel Gruber 2015

Lithuania: Uzupis Jewish Cemetery in Vilnius No Longer Forgotten

 Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015.

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery before destruction. 

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery before destruction.

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery.  The 2004 monument. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015.

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery.  Volunteers clearing vegetation, 2015. Photo courtesy Vilnius Municipality.

Lithuania: Uzupis Jewish Cemetery in Vilnius No Longer Forgotten
by Samuel D. Gruber

In 2000, when I first visited the enormous "New" Jewish cemetery on Olandų street in the Uzupis area of Vilnius (usually referred to as the Uzupis Cemetery and formerly as the Zaretcha Street cemetery), the site was, despite its huge size, a well guarded secret. There were no signs, no markers, and no open paths. Some clearing of the site had just begun. The hillside nearest the road has been cleared and the remains of some graves were visible. Tramping through the woods with representatives of the Vilnius Jewish Community we were able to identify, at the crest of the hill, the bases of some earlier (boundary?) walls, and that was all. But the dominant appearance of the site was of wooded hillsides, with a road (Dalildžių) cut right through it, and a large not-Jewish funerary hall built right off this road. At the time, the Jewish Community of Vilnius had plans for a monument and hope for fencing and clearing the cemetery so that its original form and purpose would be recognized, and the thousands of still-intact graves would be respected and protected. Now, fifteen years later, there has been significant movement toward  these goals.

 

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Olandu street is on the left you can see how the "new" road cuts through the cemetery (view below). The red lines indicates the cemetery limit - I cannot say for sure that this corresponds exactly the historic boundary. Map from "Special Plan of Pavilniai Regional Park," courtesy Vilnius Municipality

Vilnius, Lithuania. Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Dalildžių Road cuts through the heart of the cemetery site from Olandu street. The 2004 monument is on the left. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015.

Under the German rule, Nazi and Lithuanian collaborators marched tens of thousands of Vilna Jews and others out of the city to the Ponary Forest (Paneriai), where they executed and buried approximately 100,000 people, of whom 70,000 are believed to have been Jews. Later other Jews were forced to exhume and burn them, in a failed attempt to hide the crimes. The Ponary site is now a memorial park. Beginning in 1991 new monuments were erected and a small museum is also located here, too. An annual commemoration is held at Paneriai every September 23rd, and this year plans are being made to renovate and in someways re-define the memorial site (I'll write about this when more details are available).

Under Soviet rule, from the 1950s through the 1970s, tens of thousands of Jewish gravestones were ripped from the graves they marked at the historic "Old" and "New" Jewish cemeteries in the city. Even in the 1990s, when Lithuania began to grapple fitfully with its history under German and Russian rule, few people were ready to confront the scale of devastation that those occupations brought first to Vilnius's large living Jewish community and then to its dead. The history of these cemeteries has been recognized in fits and starts, but their future remains contentious and unresolved.

Already in 1993, during the period when the Jewish Community led an effort to gain recognition and protection for Jewish cemeteries and mass grave sites throughout the country, the Uzupis Jewish Cemetery was listed into the Cultural Heritage Register, though cultural heritage officials showed little understanding of the historical and religious significance of the site. The large Uzupis Cemetery, had been totally desecrated in the 1960s, when, during the Soviet period, all the stones were pulled, a large road (Dalildžių) cut through the middle of the hillside site and a new (non-Jewish) funeral hall erected on part of the site. In many official documents and even today, the place is referred to as the "former Jewish cemetery," when in fact it is a Jewish cemetery plain and simple. Is artistic value has been compromised, but even though the matzevot (gravestones) have been removed, Uzupis remains the burial place of generations of Vilna Jews.

The cemetery was founded in 1830 by the Vilnius Jewish Community funeral brotherhood after burials ceased at the cemetery in Šnipiškės near the Neris River. The new burial place included a large mortuary in the center and tree-lined avenues and other planned pathways. The more than 70,000 people who were buried at this site included prominent poets, publishers, scientists, bankers, educators, and religious leaders. Burials at the Uzupis cemetery ceased in 1948. A lengthy description can be found in Israel Cohen's classic history and description of the city written in the 1930s and published in 1943 (quoted here).

Beginning in 1964, Communist authorities removed the gravestones and used many as building material at other locations, with some becoming stairs on Taurakalnis (Tauras Hill). Only a small number of human remains were reburied elsewhere. Surviving Jews in Vilnius had the option of relocating family graves to the new Jewish cemetery. These and graves of venerated rabbis, some of which like the Vilna Gaon had already been moved from Snipiskes in the 1950s, were transferred to new graves. Most remains - of tens of thousands of Jews - were left behind.

Vilnius, Lithuania. Suderves Road Jewish Cemetery.  Participants in European Jewish Cemeteries conference visit the Ohel of the Vilna Gaon and other sages, whose remains were transferred from Snipiskes and then Uzupis Cemetery.  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Vilnius, Lithuania. Suderves Road Jewish Cemetery. Grave of Vilna Gaon transferred from Snipiskes and then Uzupis Cemetery.  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

A recent exhibition at the Vilnius Jewish Community Center, when the conference on Jewish Cemeteries in Europe was held, presented photos taken by Rimantas Dichavicius just before the destruction of the cemetery. These beautiful images, which were shown at the Vilnius City Hall in 2004, show the vast and formerly beautiful extent of the Uzupis Cemetery (it would be good to publish these photos and other documentation about the cemetery).

 Photographer Rimantas Dichavicius at Vilnius Jewish Community Center. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Vilnius, Lithuania. Exhibit of photos of Uzupis Jewish Cemetery by Rimantas Dichavicius at Vilnius Jewish Community Center.

After Lithuania’s independence was restored in 1991, the Lithuanian Jewish Community and the Lithuanian Culture Fund arranged for the dismantling of the Tauras Hill steps and some other structures built using the gravestones (though more structures with gravestones have since been identified). Until recently, there were no markers anywhere indicating that this is a Jewish cemetery. In 2000, members of the Jewish Museum staff began clearing part of the hillside closest to the main road and revealed the stumps of several dozen gravestones. Further back in the cemetery are traces of the original masonry boundary wall.

Some of this work was probably linked to the negotiation and signing of a bi-lateral cultural heritage agreement between the governments of Lithuania and the United States in 2002, which led to the recognition of Jewish and other religious and ethnic minority heritage sites. The Jewish Community had already envisioned a monument at the site where no historical or commemorative markers existed. A project was already developed (in the 1990s?), designed by architect Jaunutis Makariūnas, to be built of Jewish gravestones that had been removed from the cemetery in the 1970s and reused in the steps of the Tauras Hill. These comprise just a tiny percentage of Uzupis gravestones reused in building throughout Vilnius, and the retrieval of hundreds - if not thousands - of known matzevah fragments incorporated in to steps and walls - remains a pressing task (I wrote about this back in 2011, and it is still a pressing problem, so more on this later). Only faint inscriptions can be read on some of the stones in the monument, as these were cut and refinished into uniform blocks as part of their re-purposing.

After 2002, members of the U.S. Commission worked with the Jewish Community and the city of Vilnius to raise money for the monument which was essentially complete in 2004, though the multi-lingual plaques were not affixed until 2006 (?), due to lengthy discussions about their content.

[n.b. I was tangentially involved in this project, and was engaged to provide the Commission with a brief history of the site and help in drafting historical information to include on the monument. On a recent visit to the Uzupis Cemetery with many participants in the Jewish Cemeteries in Europe Conference this inscription engendered a lively discussion - and therefore I will address it and the broader subject of the "art" and "folly" of inscription writing in separate blog. Apropos the original matzevah inscriptions, presentations at the conference demonstrated that new technologies and processes, that might now allow these nearly-invisible inscriptions to be read.]

For some in the Jewish community the inauguration of the monument marked the beginning of a long-overdue recognition of the history and sanctity of the place. The cemetery was now listed in some guidebooks, and the occasional Jewish heritage tour stops there to pay respects. But it appears that for many in the government and for the U.S. Commission, the completion of the monument marked the end of responsibility - since little more was done to study, clear and maintain Uzupis for almost a decade.

Vilnius, Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Clearing of tress and brush has revealed a small number on gravestones or their bases still in situ. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015.

The good news is that in 2012 the Municipality of Vilnius adopted a "Special Plan of Pavilniai Regional Park," of which the cemetery site is the primary component. The plan was approved and as I understand it, it recognizes the historic boundary of the cemetery and includes plans for conservation. In 2012-2013 the site was surveyed and in 2014 it was fenced. In 2015 intensive cleaning of the Cemetery site began that included cutting trees, revealing the old paths, and uncovering the bases of some gravestones. No heavy equipment is being brought in in order not to disturb the graves themselves, so cutting and hauling is done by hand and many volunteer groups are participating. The work is organized by the Vilnius Jewish community, the State Department for Heritage Preservation and the Vilnius Municipality.

My understanding of this project, as it was briefly presented at the conference, is that in the end this will be a public park for walking, and that no permanent entertainment, recreational of service facilities will be built on the site. Information kiosks or signs are planned, however, along the boundary of the cemetery, and these will include relevant historical and religious information about the place, the community and noteworthy individuals buried there.

Vilnius, Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Monument. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Vilnius, Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Thinned woods. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Vilnius, Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Cleared hillside. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Vilnius, Uzupis Jewish cemetery. Revealed gravestone. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

USA: After 50 Years Modest Modernism of Binghamton, NY's Temple Concord Holds Up Well

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

 Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964). Stained glass by Jean-Jacques Duval.  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964). Sliding partition of left. Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

USA: After 50 Years Modest Modernism of Binghamton, NY's Temple Concord Holds Up Well
by Samuel D. Gruber 

Binghamton, New York's, Temple Concord sanctuary, built in 1964-65, is a fine example of modest modernism, combining expressive features of angled walls, a continuous strip style clerestory window and bright stained glass above the Ark, all the while retaining an elegant simplicity of material and form and an intimacy of scale. In the tradition of many of Percival Goodman's designs - which clearly influenced this building - sliding partitions provide expansion of the sanctuary an adjacent social hall. The Goodman-like expressive angles and the use of wood and beige brick at the Reform Temple Concord provide a dramatic contrast to Binghamton's contemporary Orthodox  Beth David Synagogue, designed by Werner Seligmann.

 

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord (Kilmer Mansion, 1898). Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964), clerestory.  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

The sanctuary wing was added in 1964 onto the 1898 Kilmer Mansion which the congregation bought in 1950 as their home, and which the congregation continues to occupy for much of its community activity. The mansion can also be rented for events. 

The architects of the "new" wing were Benjamin Bloch and Walter Hesse, with the Herbert Shalat (d. 1999) as Associate Architect. The great modern stained-glass artist Jean-Jaques Duval, about whom I've written before in connection with his work in Connecticut, designed the stained glass which combines the traditional symbol of the menorah with bright colors and an abstract infill design.  Except for the addition of ramps to the bimah, the sanctuary is little changed from its original design.

 

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

 

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Binghamton, NY. Temple Concord Sanctuary wing (1964).  Photo: Samuel D. Gruber 2015

Jewish Turkeys for (USA) Thanksgiving

Gwozdziec, Ukraine. Synagogue north ceiling with image of turkey at lower register. Pre-World War II image reproduced in Hubka, Resplendent Synagogue, fig. 158 (Courtesy of The Tel Aviv Museum of Art).

Gwozdziec, Ukraine. Synagogue ceiling detail of turkey (1729). Reproduction from POLIN The Museum of the History of Polish Jews.

Jewish Turkeys for (USA) Thanksgiving

To my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving!  This is Turkey Day, when the quintessential American bird is celebrated, cooked and then devoured. Benjamin Franklin wanted to make the turkey our national bird (he failed). So, what's Jewish about this holiday or the turkey?  Or better, what connection is there to Jewish art and architecture?

The link is a well-known and oft-discussed meticulously painted representation of an American turkey, with particular attention given to its wattle, on the ceiling of the destroyed wooden synagogue of Gwozdziec, Ukraine. This ceiling, originally completed in 1729, has now been recreated in vivid colors at 85% size in Warsaw's Museum of the History of Polish Jews.

The turkey is one of just many animals represented in the ceiling.  Some of these are in the context of a Zodiac representation. Others are shown in heraldic poses supporting Jewish symbols and inscriptions.  The turkey, however, exists without an obvious context.

Thomas Hubka, author of Resplendent Synagogue: Architecture and Worship in an Eighteen-Century Polish Synagogue, writes: "At first, it is difficult to imagine how the North American turkey could have been painted in an early-eighteenth-century Polish synagogue, but books depicting the exotic flora and fauna from beyond the European world were widely available at the time."

Gwozdziec, Ukraine. Synagogue north ceiling with image of turkey at lower register. After pre-1914 study by Alois Breier, reproduced in Hubka, Resplendent Synagogue, plate 3

Hubka links the presence of exotic animals in the decoration to Jewish ethical literature and writings that celebrate God's creation. According to Hubka: 

"The illustrated Perek Shira (chapter of song) was a popular "exotic creature" book specifically written for a Jewish audience. The book was a collection of hymnic sayings in praise of the Creator placed in the mouths of various animals, especially exotic animals. Many animals and their sayings emphasized the wonder and incomprehensibility of God's creations.  For example, written next to a drawing of a dragon: "What does the dragon say? Sing unto him, sing psalms unto Him: talk ye of all his wondrous works (Psalm 105;2). As a measure of its popularity and ethical function, Perek Shira was included in some of the earliest printed prayer books in Eastern Europe...Thus the unknown turkey was to be contemplated by pious Jews as an example of the unfathomable variety of God's creatures. As they did with the exotic ostrich and unicorn, the artists of the Gwozdziec Synagogue may have placed the turkey in a prominent central location so that the congregation would "Lift up [its] eyes...to obtain knowledge of the works of the Holy One" (II:231b). 

- - Hubka, Resplendent Synagogue: Architecture and Worship in an Eighteenth-Century Polish Synagogue, p. 103.

An image of a turkey was also found on the ceiling of the now-destroyed synagogue of Hodorow, Ukraine, which has many parallels to Gwozdziec. That ceiling is replicated at Beth Hatefutsoth in Tel Aviv.

 Hodorow, Ukraine. Synagogue ceiling. Image of turkey reproduced at Beth Hatefutsoth, Tel Aviv.

The abundant use of exotic animals in synagogue context can be noted elsewhere, too. Prof. Brancha Yaniv, in an important article from 2006, has also treated the carved figures on the ark of Olkieniki and Druja in the context of the Perek Shira. See: “Praising the Lord: Discovering a Song of Ascents on Carved Torah Arks in Eastern Europe,”Ars Judaica (2006).

But there is more to turkey than how they look and what they might say about God's creation. From at least the early 19th century, almost exactly 100 years after the painting of the Gwozdziec ceiling, we know that Jews - or at least wealthy Jews - were gobbling up turkeys at the festive table. Turkeys are mentioned several times by memoirist Pauline Wengeroff (Rememberings: The World of A Russian-Jewish Woman in the Nineteenth Century, various editions) when she lovingly describes in great detail the life and cultural and religious rituals of her early girlhood in 1830s Bobruisk (now Belarus). When it came to food it seems the larger household lacked for nothing. 

Wengeroff mentions turkeys (which they called "Indians") prepared and eaten for  Pesach and Sukkos. For Pesach she describes the process of kashering chickens and turkeys, and at a noon meal on Pesach, following the seder, "there had to be stuffed turkey neck." She also mentions eating roast turkey on Shmini Atzeres and Simches Torah (the last days of Sukkos). So it is clear by the 19th century that turkeys, along with chickens and geese (also mentioned throughout the memoir) were part of the Eastern European Jewish diet.  Perhaps turkeys were still "exotic" when the Gwozdziec ceiling was finished in 1732, but a century later they were not. Do you know more about the role of turkeys in Jewish art and culture? Let me know.