Temple Beth Am Sanctuary Renovation
In reimagining this sacred space, we asked ourselves and the congregation numerous questions. Two stood out. How should the Sanctuary feel? And what will make it Jewish?
Surely, there are physical elements in a synagogue that are universal: a mezuzah, a Torah table, an ark, a ner tamid, a collection of seats, and a source of light. A sanctuary does not exist without them. Several are described in detail in Jewish sacred texts and are permeated and layered with meaning. But it is the last element, a source of light, that struck us most. Light is both physical and metaphysical. It can feel warm and stir our spirit. It can also suggest a Presence.
At the entry to the Sanctuary, the concept of “mezuzah” is expanded beyond the placement of a contained text on the door jamb. The art glass in the entry doors, like the central Shamayim skylight, recalls a tallit pattern in the repetition of two words: Beth Am, House of The People. A mirroring of these words hints at the geometry of the central vault inside.
Metal yuds that serve as the entry and ark door pulls recall the Pressman Ark and the mirrored yuds of an aleph, together suggesting the eternal connection between the sacred and the everyday.
The Sanctuary Vestibule offers an opportunity to shift one’s state of mind as one gently rises and elevates toward reflection and kavanah (spirit). Ceiling heights along this ceremonial path “inhale and exhale” low to high, creating an intimate human scale while also suggesting transcendence through transition.
Upon entering the layered, concentric spaces of the Sanctuary, one is greeted with the warm embrace of wood-clad walls, a suspended wood-slat ceiling, and circles and alcoves of pews and linked chairs. Here, the curved walls, ceiling and seats of the Sanctuary are meant to hug and hold the congregation. If they could speak, they would say in a heimish tone, “barukh haba."
In Temple Beth Am’s Sanctuary, the Parsha Panels, designed by the architect, surround the congregation and are one of several special sources of light. The warm light of the parsha tracks time and is ephemeral, as natural light strokes through the panels. With each passing week, a parsha is highlighted with a special glow. Physically, these panels help shape the space of the Sanctuary, but they are also intended to be sources of spirit and knowledge. Each tells a story. As a Jewish story, these narratives are expressed in letters and words rather than pictures.
Each parsha is intended to prompt questions and questioning and to be understood and discovered slowly over a period of time, instead of all at once. Meanings unfold and evolve rather than being didactic or static.
The Ark for the Torah scrolls and Neviim is one that can be entered and occupied; such that, each time one reaches for a scroll, one is, in fact, surrounded by sacred texts. The scrolls are nested in their own containers, glowing with light.
Each of the yud tablets also contains five cylindrical voids — places where congregants can write and insert their prayers, wishes and dreams. This ritual recalls the long-standing tradition of slipping folded notes into The Kotel.
The Hall of Memories is a poignant, light-filled space near the Sanctuary. One walks alongside it, symbolically beside the past, before entering the Sanctuary — a place that bridges past, present and future. The Hall is filled with two kinds of light: one that comes from below and one that comes from above. Yahrzeit plaques line the room on two sides. Here, the names of those who came before us will glow, shimmer and float behind a sacred parokhet, lit from below, where we stand and where they once stood beside us. A bed of stones separates and connects the living and the deceased, recalling the ancient tradition that began with Abraham of leaving stones by a loved one’s grave. Yahrzeits are marked with a tassel reminiscent of the single tzitzit cut from a tallit before burial.
The Hall of Memories carries the weight and tragedy of the Holocaust Wall that once flanked the Temple Beth Am bimah. Here, the rough texture of this relief stands in sharp contrast to the smooth adjacent surfaces, representing the brutality of this genocide. The light along this side of the room shines from above. Portions of The Wall are buried in the floor evoking open graves or, perhaps, g’nizot.


