Congregation Agudas Achim

A sanctuary. A perfectly safe, stone bubble.

I was so caught up in the function of the building.

I couldn’t help but feel unsettled. Was it secondary fear? Is this how Jewish people feel in other places in the world? Unwelcome? I had so many anxieties about approaching the building. I had to remind myself, why I’m here.

I had to step back, remove the function. Remove the furniture, remove the people, remove the signs and labels, and focus on the form.

This is a safe haven. A beautiful, serene bubble centered in the bustling ad ever growing city. Light cascades from the windows, and for a moment—so fleeting—everything is still. I held my breath, and lost myself.

I was lost in the lofty rafters. Lost between the maze of rows and rows of concentric pews. Lost in thought, space, and time: imagining a service, imagining rows filled with people, imagining a complicated history. Time froze completely for what may have only been a few seconds, but for me it was a whirlwind of time travel that lasted over two thousand years. 

I snapped back with the slam of a door and made my way to the exit.