Shabbat at the Historic Synagogue
From the Desk of Martin Reichgott, Director of Philanthropy
I love what we do here at the museum. I love the mission, and sharing the stories, and inviting people to participate. If you ask anyone who has spoken with me, they know that I’m done being the best kept secret in Tucson. That’s fine for fancy restaurants but we have too much to do and too many people to reach.
But my favorite event at the museum is Shabbat, when a local congregation comes down to daven on a Friday night. The historic synagogue comes alive! It remembers!
This past Friday, Rabbi Sam Cohon spoke about the term kadosh, holy. There are holy sites throughout the world, sometimes spanning multiple religions. But the root of kadosh comes from “setting aside.” Sheepskin is not inherently holy, for example. But when prepared as parchment with centuries old recipe for ink, we agree that it can become a holy Torah.
On Shabbat, the historic synagogue is set aside again.
When Rabbi Aaron leads the International Holocaust Remembrance Day Shabbat, with survivors front and center, we scramble for seats. It’s filled like the High Holidays. The energy pulses outward each time another congregate enters the doors. Nine decades span the room.
Rabbi Malcolm Cohen leads his annual Shabbat on the Friday of the Tucson Pride Parade. Kol Ami then walks together to march as a group in the downtown parade, like our leaders may have done in the 1940’s and 50’s.
The original 115-year old floor supports it all like it did in 1910.
Rabbi Cohon’s annual Shabbat is conducted outside, in the back courtyard, hidden from Stone Avenue and surrounded by cement walls. The space is not designed for evening activities, and it becomes a challenge to read your siddur towards the Aleinu. I imagine a person taking a stroll in their neighborhood on a relatively warm May evening, suddenly stopped by the Shema wafting overhead from unknown source, or hearing the drash that may not pertain to them but connects to them. It is then no longer the Tucson Jewish Museum, but, as Rabbi Cohon reminded his congregants, the birthplace of Judaism in Tucson. It is the place set aside in 1910.
When Rabbi Seltzer speaks about modern social issues and how they are addressed in scripture, it is both timely and timeless. He is a conduit for so much knowledge that he has to pause from the bimah to reassure those in attendance that he will bring the seemingly disparate pieces together, eventually. And if you close your eyes, and feel the cadence and the words, you are in shul again.
Last year, we hosted a dance performance exploring the experiences of Sephardic Jews after the Spanish Inquisition. The choreographer had traced her roots from the Spanish Inquisition through Mexico into Northern New Mexico. I was overwhelmed by the completeness of the moment; it was the kind of presentation the space was meant to host. Pews pushed to the side and lights turned low removed the audience from the now. It extended the context and timeline of Judaism in the region. The storytelling was colorful, passionate, and mesmerizing. It was…holy.
At the beginning of tours of the museum, sometimes I’m asked by visitors if they can speak inside the building or take photos. That’s admittedly part of our challenge: a wrought iron fence in front of a regal building with stained glass windows doesn’t necessarily beg you to take a tour. I remember my absolute panic as a child when my mother, an art teacher, took me to see St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. We can’t go in there! I protested. I assure you that I told no one at Solomon Schechter School that I had been inside of a church! At TJMHC,of course you can speak, and we want you to share your visit on social media. “It’s okay, it’s no longer a functioning house of worship,” is my standard answer. But that is misleading.
Being a museum is just its day job, it’s outer ring. This etz chaim is the foundation for the region. The historic synagogue is incredibly important, everyday, as a beacon for the community. Like the Torah, it never stops telling stories; it just invites us all to look again. All that is old is new again.
So tell someone. Come visit again and share your secret. And may I see you at the home of Judaism in the region, once set aside, where you’ve always belonged.