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What Does Jewish
Law Say About All This?
A
Jewish congregation sees its membership fall. Only a few active,
interested members remain. Their neighborhood seems less
hospitable than in the past; Jews are becoming the minority among
other minority groups in the area. Someone from a Christian group
approaches the shul about buying the building in order to
establish a church there. Or the building is falling into
disrepair and is repeatedly vandalized, with the congregation
unable or unwilling to commit to its upkeep. What do the Jews do
about their house of worship?
The Jews in
Brooklyn, as in many other urban (and sometimes suburban) areas in
the United States and Canada, have faced dilemmas about how to
handle their sacred sites and the items held within, when the
congregation is shutting down or relocating. Do they abandon the
buildings? Sell them outright to church groups? Sell to real
estate brokers who may or may not sell the buildings to churches?
Should a congregation purposely seek a non-religious organization
to sell the building to, such as a non-sectarian school or medical
center or to the city for public use?
What does
Jewish law have to say about all this? Civil law permits a host of
real estate sales. A market economy encourages such transactions.
But when Jewish law is involved, the issue is rarely simple. For
those who want to do the right thing by halakhah, Jewish
law, there are a variety of issues regarding and directing how to
deal with a synagogue that is dormant or becoming so.
Not only are
there particular laws, there is a range of interpretations. The
Orthodox, traditional and strictly scriptural, approach handles it
in a certain way (although there are variations even within this).
The Conservative movement has more leniency regarding this,
although still adhering to the spirit of the text. I could have
written this book and ignored the topic but I felt that was wrong,
even disingenuous. It is a topic that has been dealt with for
quite some time and is still being dealt with because synagogues
do die out or move to different locations. It is an issue in
Brooklyn and other New York City boroughs, in other large cities
such as Chicago and Detroit, and even in small towns throughout
the Midwestern and Southern states. We will look at sources which
grapple with the topic and then move onto commentary and real-life
scenarios.
Here are a
few scenarios to show ways in which this has been handled. A
synagogue on East 53rd Street called B’nai Abraham (Sons of
Abraham) was written up in a mid-1970s New York Times article
which depicted its woebegone state near its end. (Chambers for the
NY Times, 10/4/1976, p.30) This building now is being used by an
Orthodox Jewish school for its early childhood center. Although
this is no longer a shul, it is still a building under Jewish
auspices. Another ex-shul on a different section of East 53rd
Street was renovated into a medical center. It now looks quite
different from 2006, when it still featured much of its latent
Judaica. It is clearly a non-religious site now.
But many
other former shuls, as depicted throughout this book, have become
churches representing several Christian denominations. How does
this square with Jewish laws and customs? When the particular
Brooklyn neighborhoods focused on here had large Jewish
populations they were certainly able to adhere to the following:
“’When
ten people pray together,’ says the Talmud, ‘the shechinah rests
among them.’ (Berachot 6a) Judaism, therefore, attaches great
importance to public worship (tefillah betzibur).” (Appel p.16)
And
certainly these neighborhoods, including Brownsville, East New
York, East Flatbush and others, were home to many synagogues, many
sites of public worship. Typically, from the early 1900s through
just after World War Two, it was not difficult for these many
shuls to each assemble a minyan, a quorum of ten Jewish men,
required for many prayers and for Torah reading. However, once the
Jewish population began to dwindle, then rapidly decrease, minyans
became scarce if not impossible to form. Would the following
instead be an issue?
“Where
there is no steady minyan, they may compel one another to assemble
regularly for a minyan so that communal worship may not cease.” (Appel
p.57)
But who
would make such an appeal, and who would heed the call? There were
cases of Jews who moved from, say, their old neighborhood of
Brownsville but still returned (at least for a while) to their old
synagogues, to help maintain the required minyan. But these ties
eventually eroded, and who was left in the end? And in a largely
secularized society, how compelling would this be to the majority
of Jews, who were abandoning areas such as Brownsville?
So the first
thing to discuss here are the laws and then the interpretations
surrounding the sale of synagogues that are no longer able to
function properly.
“If
Jews have moved out of a neighborhood and the synagogue is left
without a minyan of worshipers, or if it is not possible for them
to maintain it for services, it is permitted to sell the
synagogue, if possible through the intermediacy of a third party,
such as the bank that holds the mortgage.” (Appel, pp.61-62)
This
interpretation, based upon the Concise Code of Jewish Law (Kitzur
Shulhan Aruch and other traditional sources) may be seen as common
sense. Yet it can be heartbreaking for those who had associations
with the particular shul. The straight-forward tone of the above
obscures the emotions behind the decision and the history of the
group, of the building.
Rabbi
Louis Jacobs wrote in 1995 that:
“The
question of selling a synagogue that is no longer used has been
much discussed. As stated above, the question is discussed in the
Mishnah (Megillah, Chapter 3) and in the Talmudic elaboration of
the Mishnah. The final ruling is that when a synagogue can no
longer be used it may be sold, on the grounds that synagogues are
sanctified on the condition that they are used as such, so that
once a synagogue is no longer used it loses its sanctity and may
be sold.” (Jacobs, available through
www.myjewishlearning.com)
Extrapolating from that, Jacobs states that authorities allow for
a synagogue to be sold and then turned into a church or mosque,
although this is usually achieved through indirect sale to a third
party (agent, bank, government, even a non-profit organization).
Who
within the congregation gets to make this big decision? This
could be a bone of contention among some members while others
could be indifferent, disinterested. Some shuls chose to go to
civil court to finalize their congregational assets (see case
disposition book). Did some shuls dissolve into arguments over how
to contend with the assets, including the shul building? Did some
shuls simply abandon buildings out of fear of rising violence in
the neighborhoods or for indecision over how to handle
dissolution? Unfortunately this has not been systematically
documented and easily accessed for research purposes, in most
cases. It often became a private matter whose memory has faded
with time.
A few
shuls moved elsewhere (even to Israel, where two synagogues became
“transplanted”) and to suburbs (this happened a number of times in
Chicago—see Chicago’s Forgotten Synagogues by Robert A. Packer)
and some merged with healthier synagogues (the East Midwood Jewish
Center of Brooklyn absorbed a merger with the former Shaare Torah,
for instance). While there are a few main ways in which synagogues
have been phased out, there is no central depository for this
information so it is uncovered with luck and intense sleuthing.
Some ex-shuls took civil legal routes, some dissolved in a
member’s living room.
The
Conservative movement as well as the Orthodox community has also
studied the topic of selling holy property; this includes shul
buildings and any sacred items such as Torah scrolls, prayer
books, books of study, ornamentation associated with holy items
(pulpit covers, Torah covers, the yad [pointer used by Torah
readers], furniture (especially if it has Judaic ties such as a
lectern for the reading of a Torah scroll). Even smaller items
such as tallisim (prayer shawls), a ner tamid (“eternal light”
light fixture) and ceremonial wine goblets have to be dealt with
by a congregation in its sunset (although there are cases of shul
buildings that were left with many of these items, which were
sometimes incorporated into the churches).
The
Conservative committee, by examining Mishnah Megillah 3:1 stated
that “1. Holiness accrues to certain items used for worship and
study. 2. If the holy item is sold, the holiness transfers into
the funds for which it was sold. 4. Holiness is not uniform, but
is distinguished by degrees. (Examples from the Megillah: ‘If they
sell a synagogue, they must buy an ark. If they sell an ark they
must buy the dressings for the Torah.’) (Rabbi Fine, p.1)
Thus
there is intrinsic value to various religious objects and these
items cannot just be sold at a garage sale. Care must be taken in
selling these items and in how money received will in turn be
used.
It is
easier, therefore, to sell a synagogue than a Torah scroll. Once
the building has been stripped of Judaica it is just a building.
However, a Torah scroll’s letters cannot just be erased, nor the
other elements recycled. It is easier, and more desirable, simply
to donate an unused Torah scroll to an active shul or school.
And what
should a shul, nearing its end, do with any money earned from
sales of the building and its holy items? According to the
Megillah, the money cannot just be divided up by remaining members
and /or their relatives; a higher purpose must be sought for the
pool of money. In many cases this has actually meant that the
money was donated to another synagogue, religious school, or
Jewish charity; “one may use the proceeds from the sale of a
synagogue for the construction of a Jewish school.” (Fine, p.8)
Other less holy funds may be derived from any membership fees the
congregation had banked as well as burial plots the group had
purchased together.
Perhaps the
easiest way to take care of any of these items from a closing shul
is to hand them off to other congregations and schools. Even then,
however, such items should be examined for structural problems.
This is particularly important with Torah scrolls, which can be
considered Pasul, unfit for use. (A Torah must be mended by a
qualified scribe.)
The other
halakhic consideration I had to make while researching this book
is about entering churches. I have photographed over ninety former
synagogues from the outside and scouted out about a dozen more
from the street, and many of these buildings now house churches. I
have been inside close to thirty of these buildings in order to
investigate the Judaica inside, as well as to take photographs of
their interiors. I spoke with members of the current churches on
several occasions. At times I examined former and current social
halls, libraries, classrooms, lobbies, rooms used as food pantries
and for clothing drives—and many of the sanctuaries.
There are
Jewish laws regarding Jews entering non-Jewish houses of worship.
There are various interpretations and opinions about the
appropriateness of doing this. Jews are offered several options
depending upon their level of observance. Certainly many Jews,
especially those who are not very observant, have little or no
problem with entering a church. For those who are more observant
there are more issues, restrictions and considerations.
According
to the website askMoses.com,
“it is forbidden for a Jew to enter the sanctuary of the church,
i.e., where the active prayer services are held. This could be
misinterpreted as identification with the philosophy (of the
church). However, it is permitted to enter other rooms in a church
for non-religious purposes.”
Rabbi Naftali Silberberg posted this in a straight-forward
passage, especially targeted to Jews who are less likely to have
studied the laws pertaining to this.
Rabbi
Jeremy Rosen, a British rabbi, also addressed the halakha of
entering churches on his website:
“The
law banning entry to a house of worship is predicated on the
assumption that it is pagan…
“The
Maharal of Prague (ShoT 24), the Tifferet Yisrael (Avot 3.14), and
the Noda Biyehuda (in the introduction to Hitnatzlut HaMechaber)
all declared that Christianity was not idolatry because it
accepted the idea of Divine revelation…
“Amongst the answers is that of ‘eyvah’, a Talmudic
principle that requires us to maintain good relations with those
we live amongst, regardless of their religion…
“In
fact, I, personally, have gone into churches to look at art and
architecture, and to listen to concerts…” (Jeremy Rosen, pp. 1-2)
While I
investigated former synagogues which are now churches, I was not
praying and made it known that I was there to conduct research.
Everyone I met at these houses of worship respected my wishes and
seemed to understand my intentions clearly.
Here is
another look at the issue:
“Entering
a house of avoda zarais forbidden for four reasons: The first is
the prohibition of mar’ith ‘ayin, making it look as though a Jew
would think of worshipping avoda zara… There is the assumption of
someone participating in a church service. The second is a more
controversial point: a house of avoda zara is considered in the
category of meshamshei avoda zara and is therefore… forbidden to
derive any benefit from it, e.g., shelter from the sun.
“If there are no statues in the
building, (one) prohibition would not apply…” (Jewish Mailing
List, vol. 17, Number 42, December 1994)
This response
was directed to a more scholarly and strictly observant audience
but I include it to show that there is debate about the act of a
Jew entering a church. Yes, someone could see me, entering a
church, and assume that I came for the service. Instead I came to
conduct research and let people know of the existence of my
research project. I have always made it known to the people at
these churches that I was Jewish and came for historical and
interfaith purposes. I realize some people will disagree with my
decisions and the extent to which I made them, but I wanted access
to material that could only be seen in these houses of worship.
One of my goals was to bring to life “hidden” Judaica, to make
fuller the story of Brooklyn Jewry. Some of these buildings may be
gone or significantly altered in a few years or many years down
the road, and I wish to relate at least some aspects of them for
future generations of Jews, as well as all Brooklynites and anyone
else interested in urban Jewish history. |
