(Being part the fourth of my adventures in Budapest. With photo links! These open new browser windows.)
The morning after the concert in the cathedral, my cousin took us to a tour of a synagogue. Later that day we moved apartments to make room for new arrivals, and our new accommodation was mere blocks from the second largest synagogue in the world—the Dohány Street Synagogue in Budapest. (I didn't get a good shot of the exterior, but found this one on the Web.)
I’d never been inside one before, and those of which I’d seen the outside (suburban D.C. has a sizeable Jewish community) hadn’t prepared me for this: an imposing, palatial structure, incorporating Gothic and Moorish design elements, an edifice replete with symbolism. At the same time it looked like what it was, a place of sanctuary. Ironic, in a way, given some of its history.
A guide met us at the entrance, and brought us inside. The first thing I noticed was how much it looked like a church—pews, pulpits, even an organ. Whereupon the guide explained to us that the designer’s specialty had been cathedrals and, in fact, he had never been inside a synagogue in his life before being called upon to design one in 1845. A contemporary commentator observed that “The Dohány Temple is the most beautiful catholic synagogue in the world.”
It certainly is beautiful; recently extensively renovated and restored, it feels at once brand-new and historic. The interior is all dark wood and majestic carvings, with beautiful Byzantine-style painted decoration on the ceiling. The sanctuary is in the very front, again modelled after churches, and tucked away behind that is an organ which, at the synagogue’s inauguration in 1859, was played by Franz Liszt and Camille Saint-Saens. The guide explained to us that, in order to get around a prohibition against playing music on the Sabbath, the synagogue hired a Gentile organist to play the instrument for services. The synagogue evidently also doubles as a concert hall from time to time.
Sitting on the hard wooden pews, we listened as the guide related the building’s history. Its situation within the boundaries of the Jewish ghetto during World War II saved it from demolition—it was used by the Nazis as an administrative center. The benches, already uncomfortable, were made rather more so by this news, as I’m sure I wasn’t the only one imagining what decisions were made, with what resulting horror, in that place. Hungary initially forestalled Nazi occupation by giving up Jewish refugees who had fled there from other countries, in an attempt to save their own. The Nazis invaded anyway, and most of the Jewish population of the country was killed.
Again unlike most synagogues, the Dohány Street Synagogue has a cemetery outside. It’s a parklike setting, with headstones set among the trees. The guide explained that this was a mass grave, where Hungarian Jews were murdered and buried. After the war and occupation were ended, an attempt was made to identify those buried there, and headstones set up with their names: a fraction of the total. Behind that was a memorial park, which was undergoing renovation while we were there. We did, however, see the Holocaust Memorial Tree, a metal sculpture of a weeping willow shaped as an upside-down menorah. On the tree’s 4000 leaves are the names of Hungarian Jews who died during the Holocaust. The donations that placed their names there were to the Emanuel Foundation, founded by Tony Curtis. The inscription on the double arch says, "Is there a bigger pain than mine?"
Upstairs, in fact, there was a gallery of famous Jews; not just Hungarians, but from all over the world. It’s probably the only gallery in existence where portraits of Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons—in full KISS regalia—keep company with Jesus. There was a museum as well, an extensive collection of copies of the Torah and other objects, as well as a collection of photographs, many of them from World War II. A tour was offered of this as well, but we contented ourselves with reading those labels and explanatory texts that were in English, with occasional helpful translations from Tamás. We were getting hungry, and it was time to find something for lunch.
On the way out, I bought a small guidebook to supplement my notes about the place. Two months later, I can still recall the feeling I had while sitting there, a mingling of awe and grief.
More information about the Dohány Street Synagogue can be found here. The photo, taken in 1982 before the building's renovation, doesn't do it justice; under all that dirt is gorgeous brickwork and entrancing designs. I wish I'd gotten more photos of the exterior, which is lovely.