The photo is from the Tron (rhymes with drone) at Kutz.

On Twitter, @thewanderingjew (Jewschool‘s feygele) wondered to me today if this blog doesn’t totally violate the Shabat pracitices of those I daven with. A few thoughts.

The thought had occurred to me, though I haven’t resolved it yet because it hasn’t been an issue yet. It hasn’t been an issue yet because so far I’ve featured a photo from Kutz (where, despite a very wide range of Shabat practices, everyone uses electricity), Purim (which isn’t Shabat), an empty sanctuary being remodelled, and a wildly Reform synagogue in Nashville (where they served quiche alongside Nathan’s mini corndog nuggets).

To be honest, one of things that made me put off start this blog for several months after I had the idea was this very issue. I got tired of the idea bouncing around in my head, so I went ahead and took the plunge. I figured I’d cross this bridge when I came to it. Feygele brought me to it. So I’ll cross it.

I assume that in many communitites I’ll be taking pictures in, this won’t be an issue. In some, it may. I’ll never do it in an out-and-out Orthodox or Conservative community. I’ll be willing to do it in any Reform community. Independent communitites will require some more thinking.

Lets say I was going to daven at Hadar on Shabat. This is a community that has defines itself in terms of halachah so I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking pictures there on Shabat. But now lets say I was going to daven at Kol Zimrah on a Friday night. That would be a different story. Here’s a community with a very wide range of practices, but many of whom took the subway to services, I would feel totally comfortable taking a picture. I wouldn’t use flash and it wouldn’t make any noise.

Why? Aren’t I being totally and knowingly offensive to the whole idea of pluralism? I don’t think so. The picture-taking is non-disruptive and the communit is expressly a community of wide-ranging observance.

So that’s my answer. Of course, you could always just take pictures not on Shabat. People daven during the week too, I hear.

And for those who want to send me pictures to include in this blog, please do. And you can worry about these issues all on your own, no questions asked.

For a whole assortment of variously crazy family reasons, my mother and I found ourselves in Nasvhille this Shabat. In need of a place to say Kadish and to satisfy our ongoing curiosity about synagogues in other cities, we wound up on Friday night at The Temple, Congregation Ohabi Sholom, as it’s full name reads.

The most interesting things about the smaller chapel (I took pix of the empty main sanctuary too, but I’ll save those for another time), were the Aron and the windows. I love big wondows in a sanctuary. Never pray in a vacuum and all that. Out the window, less visible than would be ideal in this lighting, were some tall, beautiful trees, which are beutifully echoed in the metalwork on the Aron.

But I left wondering if there’s any halachah pertaining to the contruction of Aronei Kodesh. Can they be see-through like that? I wanted to stand the whole time! Drop a comment if you know anything about it.

This is the Reform congregation I grew up at, the oldest in Austin. CBI’s main sanctuary was built in the seventies, as evidenced by the gilded wallpaper Ten Commandments over the Aron Kodesh, and the stained glass Ner Tamid that we affectionately refer to as the Eternal Lobster.

Earlier this year, the sanctuary underwent what feels like a major rennovation (the pic above is from the middle of the rennovation).  In fact, very little was chnaged, but the changes made a huge difference. Prviously, it was a very dark space, with lots of dark wood panneling and more then enough cork board to deaden all sounds and moods.

With little more than the removal of the cork and the introduction of some lighter paint, the space feels totally different and much, much brighter.

Shabat Shalom.

From rabbincal student David Singer. His blog here.

Zeigler School of Rabbinic Studies. Purim. Backyard of Rabbi Brad Artson. That picture was taken during the megilah reading. I’m happy to daven anywhere, so long as it’s not underground or hot.

I asked David why he doesn’t like davening underground.

Just annoys me. Makes me feel separated from the world. I suppose, if an underground space were particularly bright, airy and clean, I would reconsider. 

Then again, now that I think about it, Brooklyn Jews always davened in a lovely basement. I take it back.

I don’t like to daven in stuffy or hot places.

I officially declare this, my latest blog, open for business. The idea is to have a photoblog focusing solely on Jews praying and the places where they pray. Anyone may submit photos to me to post. Each post should have with it some thoughts about what makes the space a good or bad prayer space. Short thoughts. Mostly, we’ll enjoy the photos. Amen. Selah.