Architects such as Esther Sperber and Julian de Metz are drawing on their Jewish heritage to revitalize outmoded synagogues and, they hope, contribute to communal regeneration
Synagogues worldwide are facing a unique set of challenges that are reshaping the landscape of Jewish religious life, especially in the year since October 7.
Should their architecture lay bare the scars of the past? Can they serve as viable community centers but also as memorials to the darker sides of history? How much should security and discreetness outweigh esthetics? Do secular Jews even need synagogues, and what for?
Architecturally speaking, many of these once-vibrant centers are in disrepair with dingy structures and dark interiors often correlating to declining membership. A handful of Jewish architects have taken note, though, and are trying to utilize their heritage to revive such structures and communities.
But to rehabilitate or start anew? Jews have been asking this question for centuries, particularly communities in the aftermath of major attacks – leading to one more question: Can a new building somehow retain a sense of belonging with it? There are many examples suggesting that the answer is yes – perhaps.
Revitalizing Jewish life
In postwar Germany, nearly all of the newly erected Jewish houses of worship – about 20 – were built to replace predecessors destroyed by the Nazis. Many display an ahistoric sensibility and abstain architecturally from any references to violence or trauma. Such restraint can be seen as an embodiment of shying away from public expression.
German-Jewish architect Alfred Jacoby has created seven new, mostly Reform synagogues for communities across Germany, including in Dessau, Darmstadt, Kassel, Chemnitz and Offenbach am Main. His designs are often contemporary whitewashed structures with sleek interiors and arched forms resembling the tablets of the Ten Commandments.
Across the Atlantic, Pittsburgh’s Tree of Life congregation (Or L’Simcha), which lost 11 members in the October 2018 terror attack, began tearing down its mid-century concrete synagogue in June, building anew with the help of starchitect Daniel Libeskind.
Other widely acclaimed new synagogues are the green-tiled geometric building in Mainz by architect Manuel Herz (who also built the Babyn Yar synagogue at the Ukrainian Holocaust memorial site in 2021), Synagogue in Amsterdam by SeARCH and another in Ulm, Germany, by Kister Scheithauer Gross.
However, synagogues can also be renovated, not just rebuilt. Some – not those marked by the brutal wounds of history, notably – are opting to do this on existing structures, focusing on bright, light-filled interiors that are accessible and perfect for hosting gatherings.
This trend for redesigning existing synagogues stems from the growing awareness that the construction industry’s heavy use of resources is a major contributor to climate change.
However, it is not only about revitalizing buildings but also revitalizing Jewish life.
New York architect Esther Sperber, an Israeli who has lived in the United States for 25 years, has drawn up numerous synagogue renovations across the country. With her firm Studio ST Architects, she renovated Chicago’s Skokie Valley Synagogue last year – transforming a dated and dark 1960s structure into a light-filled, contemporary building.
That project features brick walls repainted with white limewash, a brighter entryway and coatroom, new bathrooms and lighter interiors thanks to added skylights and improved lighting. By rotating the seating arrangement, a redesigned worship area lets those in the Modern Orthodox shul be closer to the rabbi or cantor and also allows them to face east toward Jerusalem.
For Sperber, aesthetics and ethics are intertwined with her synagogue renovations that prioritize making older people and younger generations feel comfortable and welcome through resourceful design.
She has also renovated the Conservative Ansche Chesed Synagogue in New York City, revitalizing everything except the main sanctuary to create more comfortable spaces for people to spend their “off” time. This included everything from enlarging and brightening the lobby to revamping dingy bathrooms and coatrooms.
“For Orthodox people, the synagogue doesn’t have to be a community connection,” says Sperber, who was herself raised Orthodox. “But in the U.S., a synagogue becomes the heart of the congregation’s Jewish connection. It’s a place of worship and religious space – but also a social connector. In the U.S., unlike Israel, it is a place of affiliations in a much wider way.”
The architect explains that one of the main motivations the community had “was to create a new, bigger lobby and create spaces that were bright, air-conditioned and accessible to those with disabilities. It’s about safety as much as dignity.”
The synagogue now doubles as a community center and accommodates bar-mitzvah luncheons, lectures and even gymnastics in its new social hall, she says. She notes that “social hall” is a typical term, since sanctuaries are for the religious ceremonies and halls for events.
She also upgraded the building’s security at Ansche Chesed with a new security guard booth and lockdown system. “It’s important for the congregation to feel safe, but you also don’t want it to feel like a bunker,” she says. “The challenge is to do the things that need to be done so people are safe, but not make it feel like a fortress.”
Changing needs
The demand for brighter, more spacious synagogues akin to community centers is growing in popularity, according to both Sperber and Julian de Metz, founding director of dMFK Architects in London. Such projects aim to enliven sanctuaries while respecting the past. From Orthodox to progressive, communities are looking for more welcoming spaces and are turning to architects for help.
Ailing 20th-century buildings can be transformed into accessible, multipurpose places by adding rooms in addition to prayer space, whether via extensions or reworking the existing footprint. These spaces can be used to host a diverse range of functions, which many modern synagogues are seeking – particularly for educational, social and wedding events.
Many synagogues in the Diaspora were built at the beginning of the 20th century, when an informal gathering space was not regarded as a priority. The sensibility was different back then: “Many of these old buildings don’t have much public space, like a lobby, for before and after services, or when you need to step out with your kids,” Sperber notes.
“It’s to do with changing needs,” says de Metz. “These original synagogues are not fit for purpose, or they simply weren’t that architecturally ambitious in the first place having been built postwar.”
As synagogues grapple with how to stay relevant for their community, those with both worship and communal areas might hold the key to long-term growth. Indeed, from a design-led perspective, this newfound interest in communal space is a significant factor contributing to a shift in Jewish engagement patterns.
In London, dMFK has recently redesigned Golders Green’s Alyth synagogue with elements of a community center. The project extends the existing shul, with a new wing for holding events and support functions. Officially known as the North Western Reform Synagogue, Alyth was built in 1936 and extended in a piecemeal way between the 1950s and 2003.
“The ailing synagogue suffered from leaks and poor temperature control, with large portions of the building inaccessible by wheelchair,” says de Metz. The renovation includes a new kitchen and bathrooms, a corridor linking the prayer space with the brick-clad addition, and upgraded windows throughout that improve the project’s operational efficiency, insulation and temperature control.Open gallery view
“The 20th century saw many new synagogues built in the United Kingdom, many of which are at the end of their design life and not providing the community functions that a modern religious building needs,” the architect says. “This is the main reason we are seeing a surge in the U.K.’s restorations, upgrades and rebuilds.”
More flexible spaces
By working with different denominations on synagogue designs, from new builds to renovations, dMFK has noticed that the more progressive ones tend to seek larger areas for community needs, while more Orthodox ones have different design goals. “Other than the normal differences in the way people pray and differing levels of observance on Shabbat, we are seeing the more religious communities wanting to pray in smaller, more separated spaces, whereas the more progressive communities are more accepting of larger, more flexible spaces,” de Metz says.
Some British communities rely on a mixture of crowdfunding and loans to get projects off the ground, while others are financially stronger because individual donors are able to fund or sponsor larger elements of buildings. “Most [British] synagogues are sustained by membership fees and other sources of income often generated by clever building design,” he explains, adding that single-space, “cathedral”-like prayer buildings often suffer because they lack smaller rooms for hosting events like wedding and school gatherings, which can generate valuable revenue. “If the building is designed thoughtfully, it can generate income for the community beyond membership fees,” he says.
Throughout history, Jewish life in the Diaspora has always been about adaptation. Today’s oscillations and challenges generate opportunities, and synagogues can be rethought design-wise to meet those changing needs.
Other synagogues currently being renovated in North America include Washington’s Kesher Israel Congregation (built in 1911), Buffalo’s Temple Beth Zion (1967) and Victoria’s Congregation Emanu-El (1863), which is Canada’s oldest surviving shul.
Recently refurbished with modern upgrades are Temple Adas Israel on Long Island and Beth Israel Congregation in Waterville, Maine. Both showcase a mindful use of the existing structure, and feature new rooms for learning and hosting gatherings, updated interior design, plus new accessibility and security systems.
With communities often restricted for space, it is more common to tear down the building completely and construct something new. However, with careful analysis and planning, more can be done to protect the existing architecture and create additions and extensions.
In London, De Metz is focused on creating synagogues that welcome a broader section of the Jewish community in non-prayer-related ways. He wants to help develop synagogues that are more financially sustainable.
“As architects, it is key at an early stage to create a fundable ‘vision,’ which leaders can use to appeal to the community and generate funding,” he says. “We need to design efficient, flexible, appealing buildings that can generate income to support their existence through external rentals, shared spaces, spaces for event hire and education spaces.”
In other cases, he even suggests maximizing the land value by creating residential or office spaces to help fund the renovation costs.
Between normalcy and memory
Postwar Jewish life has ultimately revolved around living in shadow of the Holocaust. For new synagogues, modern architecture has often reflected that sense of precariousness. Modern or rebuilt shuls stand on uneasy ground, between normalcy and memory. Particularly in postwar Germany, they have been physical expressions of a community’s hope to reestablish lives without losing sight of their trauma.
Nowadays, many synagogue renovations are done with a sense of flair and anonymity to reflect the modern age. They veer toward being clean-lined and inconspicuous. In contrast, prewar houses of worship were invariably grandiose: Classic examples are Spain’s Cordoba Synagogue (from 1315); the Great Synagogues of Rome (1904) and Florence (1882); Berlin’s New Synagogue (1866); and Amsterdam’s twin-like Great Ashkenazi Synagogue and Portuguese Synagogue from the 1670s.
Similarly impressive structures dot New York and London, though more often with unassuming exteriors concealing extraordinary interiors.
“Both West Hampstead and my shul [in West London] are both outstanding historic buildings and would never be knocked down,” says de Metz. He notes that in 2010, the historic Hampstead Synagogue, which is a listed building and dates to 1892, was renovated and restored by Stephen Levrant of Heritage Architecture. It was reinstated with historically accurate colors, with modernized offices, toilets and cloakrooms.
Synagogues now have a second chance. They can be assertive but also harmonious with their neighborhoods; beacons in the face of a society that gradually begins to forget.
Conservation architect Levrant sounds a note of caution about those renovations, though. “Historic religious structures are very restricted, and there is usually little room to enlarge or update,” he says. “The situation is even more limited in historical, listed buildings because the actual finishes, decoration, fittings and fixtures might be protected. The only means of providing or updating is to build on, which also has issues as virtually all synagogues are urban structures with restricted site areas.”
But at least in Britain, de Metz argues, “our synagogues should continue in the tradition of being externally quiet whilst being more poetic on their interiors.
“There has been a sharp rise in antisemitism in the U.K. and other countries, and this has only strengthened the requirement to design discreet, secure buildings. But we were doing that anyway.
“Synagogues need to balance their ‘sacred’ and ‘community’ functions, creating humane, efficient, people-focused, comfortable buildings that are not merely functional,” he sums up.
To do that, they will need to hire architects who deeply understand the delicate balancing acts in Judaism between memory and identity, ethics and aesthetics.