Putting the "Agog" in Synagogue

Places of worship in Paris include such architectural gems as Notre Dame de Paris; Sacré Coeur; La Madeleine; St. Chapelle; St. Eustache; St. Germain des Prés; St. Martin-des-Champs, St. Augustin, St. Alexandre-Nevsky, the American Church; get the idea? This is what happens when Catholic and Royal power is concentrated in a single city for 1,000+ years, and when ostentation is prized over efficiency. The synagogues of Paris show exactly the opposite, namely what happens when Jewish communities remain small, relatively poor, and intentionally discreet.

Case in point: the synagogue at 75 Rue Julien Lacroix in the 20th arrondissement, on the path from our apartment to Panda's nightly pee spot.

There are two ways you know this is a synagogue: first, the two tablets over the entrance (left); second, the presence of security guards during holiday services. Like other synagogues in Belleville (there are quite a few), this one serves the Orthodox Sephardic community, many of whose members immigrated to Paris from North Africa over the last half-century.

Another example of a nearly-invisible synagogue is one you can find in a well-traveled place, specifically the Place des Vosges.


It looks just like every other part of the Place des Vosges, which was built as a new royal residence by Henry IV in the late 16th century and which prompted the French aristocracy to move en masse to majestic hôtels particuliers in the Marais, many of which are now state-run museums. I went inside this "Temple des Vosges" when choosing a synagogue for the High Holidays and it's quite beautiful inside. Too bad they don't really encourage visitors.

Compare the Temple des Vosges with the following two synagogues, the first located on the Boulevard de Belleville in the 20th arrondissement just a few blocks from the Rue Julien Lacroix synagogue; the second located on the Rue Pavée, just a few blocks from Temple des Vosges in the 4th arrondissement.


Here are two synagogues that aren't afraid to advertise. Michkenot Yaacov, I know nothing about. The Synagogue de la Rue Pavée is famous-ish for having been designed by your favorite Art Nouveau architect and mine, Hector Guimard, who was also responsible for the Métro entrances we posted about recently. Unfortunately, this synagogue is not open for tours, but at least it's possible to get a good shot of its exterior.

I can't say as much for one of the next two synagogues we attempted to photograph.

On the left you see the Communauté Liberale Juive, located on Rue Moufle in the 11th arrondissement. (This is where Adam, Rachel, and I went for Simchat Torah services.) By now you've probably noticed the fences in front of most Parisian synagogues. This is the only evidence of anti-Semitism I've ever seen in France, and it's more evidence of the fear of anti-Semitism than the thing itself. Better safe than sorry, I guess.

To finish up, the synagogue on the right belongs to an affluent community in the 16th arrondissement (affluent and 16th are basically synonymous) and is mostly remarkable for its heavy, pseudo-Art Déco architecture that seems to cry out, "The power of the Star of David compels you! Enter!" Other Parisian synagogues could take a hint from this one - unless, that is, they prefer to remain the humble, self-effacing step-siblings of all those magnificent churches.

Purim

A couple weeks back, Maggie mentioned that she had made hamantashen in honor of Purim, but we never got around to describing our Purim experience at Paris' only bilingual synagogue, Kehilat Gesher.

Purim, like many other Jewish holidays, celebrates a historical moment when a group of Jews escaped annihilation at the hands of a dastardly villain. The main ritual of Purim involves reading through a specific book - the Book of Esther, or Megillah in Hebrew - which recounts the tale of the beautiful Esther, who became queen to King Ahasuerus and prevented his minister, Haman, from killing all the Jews living in Persia. (The word "hamantashen" derives in part from the minister's name, and the cookies' shape is supposed to resemble his three-cornered hat.) During the reading of the tale, listeners are encouraged to drown out Haman's name through booing and other noisemaking. Since Purim is a joyous holiday (following the adage, "They tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat!"), rowdy behavior, heavy drinking, and social transgression is encouraged.

At Kehilat Gesher, we were greeted at the door by the rabbi, Tom Cohen, who was unrecognizable in a full leprechaun costume. Tom is one half of France's only husband-wife rabbi team; his French wife leads services at the synagogue in the 11th arrondissement where Adam, Rachel, and I went for Simchat Torah services in October. Despite the leprechaun costume and Tom's insistence that his ancestors were Irish (apparently Ireland was just a half-way point between Lithuania and the US) we were immediately struck by the uncanny similarities between Tom and Seth Rogen, in terms of both physique and personality. This immediately put us at ease, preparing us for the raucous service that followed.

Rabbi Tom encouraged the 30-or-so attendees to take turns reading from the Megillah in whatever language they liked - French, English, or Hebrew. Actually, what he wanted was not reading; he wanted people to sing. So a few brave souls tried making up their own tunes, but that turned out to be really hard. So others tried to fit the text to popular tunes, notably the March of the Toreadors from Carmen, the Marseillaise, and (weirdly) Jingle Bells (which probably worked the best). Add to this the fact that Tom started a drinking game where everyone took a shot of schnaps every time the words "festival," "feast," "drink," "eat," or "party" appeared, and the service got real enjoyable, real quick.

We had initially planned to meet Talya and Ari at the synagogue, but they showed up late enough that they only got to enjoy the last 10 minutes of the service. After it ended, we traveled back and forth between the reception, with its excellent food and drink, and the room where the service was conducted, since Ari was doing a quick read-through on his own. When he finished, he and Rabbi Tom had a long conversation about all the professors they had in common from rabbinical school (the reason why Ari is spending the year in Israel), and we got to hear about Rabbi Tom's wedding at a French château with 8 other rabbis officiating. Crazy!

We got the sense that Kehilat Gesher is a warm, inclusive community, and that Rabbi Tom does a great job of fostering a truly bilingual atmosphere. If you're in town and looking for a synagogue, check the Kehilat Gesher website to see whether services will be at their 17th arrondissement location, or at their other synagogue in St.-Germain-en-Laye, since they alternate between the two. And let us know if you're going, so we can join you!

Another Synagogue

Tonight, I joined Rachel and Adam on a new adventure: Simchat Torah services at a synagogue only about 10 minutes from here by métro (in the 11th). The synagogue, Communauté Juive Libérale (CJL for short), is an egalitarian "reform" synagogue (reform/"libérale" in France = conservative in the US, or at least that's the sense I get) with a female rabbi and a family-oriented feel. I liked the service there better than the ones I attended at the U.L.I.F., and not only because I wasn't in a convention center amphitheater with 3,700 other Jews. More importantly, I recognized a lot of the tunes this congregation used. That's huge - for me, recognizable music is a key feature (pun intended) of synagogue attendance.

The service tonight was special because it marked the beginning of Simchat Torah, a holiday that celebrates finishing the Torah (five books of Moses) and starting all over again. To mark the occasion, there was all the usual dancing and singing and parading of several Torahs around the room. But then, something extraordinary: the rabbi had all the adults gather in a circle and then un-scrolled the Torah so that the entire text was visible. Each person held a bit of the parchment, and we needed almost the entire space of the sanctuary to accomplish this. Neither Rachel, Adam, nor I had ever seen the Torah in all its handwritten-on-sheepskin-if-you-drop-it-you-have-to-fast-for-forty-days glory. For symbolic purposes, an older member of the congregation read the very last portion, followed promptly by a young member reading the very first portion. Circle of life, children are the future, you get the idea. It was both clever and moving.

Next on the Paris synagogue tour: Kehilat Gesher, another "libérale" Franco-Anglophone congregation that splits its time between the 17th and St.-Germain-en-Laye. I'll keep you posted! (Another bad pun. But I'm not sorry.)

Weekend Update

My bank account is fully open and fully functional!

I opened an account with EDF (Électricité de France), which means we won't get our electricity shut off!

I re-visited the Musée Marmottan-Claude Monet, in part to re-see a bunch of Monet's Nymphéas (Waterlillies) with Robert, but more to see two exhibitions: one of incredible aerial shots/footage of Paris by Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the other a 50-year sample of the photography of Lucien Clergue (thanks to Just Another American in Paris for shamelessly plugging these exhibitions).

Yann Arthus-Bertrand did a whole video/book of shots like this one.

Lucien Clergue's photography focuses on the most elemental aspects of nature - textures, forms, color contrasts. He's also known for his focus on the human figure in its most elemental state.

This evening, Robert and I just barely managed to make it to services on time, because when you get off the Métro at Porte Maillot and enter the Palais des Congrés, you first enter a really swank mall, and there were no signs pointing to services. We finally asked some police officers, who pointed us to the Grand Amphitheatre. All we had to do was go through metal detectors and not get lost in the huge, 3,723-seat hall. The service was nice, albeit in French (Robert tuned out everything that wasn't in Hebrew).

Back at home tonight, on our late-evening walk to the Parc de Belleville, Panda and I stumbled on a cinéma en plein air (open-air film). Apparently there's a whole series in September - exciting!

Finally, L'Shana Tovah, Happy New Year!

Seeking a Synagogue

This weekend is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and that means it's time to find a synagogue in Paris. As it turns out, the 19th arrondissement, where we live, has a large Jewish population. But as far as I can tell, it's entirely Orthodox and Sephardic, which isn't what I'm used to. There are a few conservative Ashkenazi synagogues in the city, and I think I've found most of them. There's the Synagogue Charles Liché (formerly Synagogue de Place des Vosges), which probably has the best real estate (the Place des Vosges is gorgeous and very swank); there's Kehilat Gesher, a bilingual congregation that holds services both in Paris and in St. Germain-en-Laye; and there's the Union Libérale Israélite de France, which (along with Kehilat Gesher) has a synagogue in the 16th arrondissement.


This last congregation welcomes so many people for the High Holidays that they have to hold two services: one in their regular synagogue, and one at the Palais des Congrès at Porte Maillot, which is basically a convention center/performance venue. And that is where I will be attending services. I'll let you know how it goes, and whether I can see the Rabbi from the nosebleed seats.

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Update - I got the tickets for Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur services in the mail. I asked for two, and they sent two. But they made a major assumption when they printed the tickets, namely:

And "Mme. Epstein?" Here she is:

Robert's in town! Hooray! Here, he's napping off his jet lag (he just got in today) in the Parc de Buttes Chaumont. Hopefully they won't object when he walks in with the "Mme. Epstein" ticket.