photo | courtesy of beth sholom
What do a skateboard ramp, a slice of yellow squash on a shelf and a big wedge of cheese have in common?
If you think this sounds like a joke you’d hear on the playground at recess, you’re right. But for the members of Congregation Beth Sholom in San Francisco’s Richmond District, the punch line is no laughing matter.
In recent weeks, the Conservative synagogue’s sanctuary and surrounding offices at the southwest corner of Clement Street and 14th Avenue have been likened to these random objects, in addition to countless others, following an article in the San Francisco Chronicle written by architecture reviewer John King.
His column, which praised the synagogue for its ambitious design, prompted more than 400 readers on SFGate.com to put their creative writing skills to the test, using what King referred to as a bowl-like concrete sanctuary that rests upon a base of zinc-clad offices as their muse.
Comments ranged from the funny and the fruity — readers compared the look to a cantaloupe, a “brown watermelon,” and a “peg board piece for the Jolly Green Giant’s kid” — to the negative and the not-so-nice — a “modern monstrosity,” a “design horror” and a “bit of a county jail mixed with the Guggenheim.”
Lengthier descriptions — “The beast of a building barfs on the surrounding community in ways even religion can’t justify” and “Hooray for an architect with chutzpah” — pretty much speak for themselves.
It’s clear that public opinion remains divided on the Stanley Saitowitz design that cost more than $14 million to create, but what do Beth Sholom congregants and their leader, Rabbi Micah Hyman, have to say?
“The toilet bowl reference offends me, but it shows human creativity,” said Hyman. “Don’t think I didn’t think about getting a skateboard out — that half-pipe is amazing. Great buildings should cause a reaction. It’s good stuff.”
All kidding aside, Hyman made a point to say that most of the online comments referred only to the exterior images that accompanied the article. Step inside through the building’s main entry point, he said, and it’s a whole different experience.
“Are some people right that it is harsh on the outside? Well, yeah, the world is harsh,” Hyman said. “But a place that is safe and warm is really the intent of what’s inside.
“The building is transformed by the people in there. For a rabbi, that’s the greatest feeling. It’s beautiful, it’s sleek, it’s elegant. When I have 350 people singing, praying and animating that space, that’s when it’s really a home.”
As congregants gathered in the chapel Aug. 22 to welcome the start of Shabbat, passers-by frequently gathered on the sidewalk to peer through the synagogue’s glass entrance. Many pressed their heads against the doors and pointed at the futuristic staircase, the calming rock garden beneath it and the exterior curves of the sanctuary.
To see the rest, you’d either have to go inside or, as one congregant suggested, climb a nearby tree.
“It’s important for people to come inside,” said congregant Steven Ruth. “It’s more than just an exterior. John King hit it right on the head. Sure, the building doesn’t fit in with the neighborhood, but that’s not the objective in the first place. Come back in 30 years and see how it fits in.”
While many can’t get enough of the sanctuary that features stadium seating for 650 and a state-of-the-art LED yahrzeit wall and ner tamid, Ruth’s favorite aspect is a slender vertical window in the downstairs chapel, which allows him to observe the outside world while praying inside.
“It feels like home to me,” he said.
Beth Sholom congregant Ken Robin echoed Ruth’s sentiments.
“It’s a wonderful space,” he said. “I think it’s really nice and works well from a social point of view. Yes, there are people who wonder about the color. It’s aggressive for the neighborhood, but it’s stands out nonetheless.”
So whether you visualize a giant menorah, as King suggests, or a half-wheel of cheddar, Hyman invites every neighbor, critic and looky-loo to check out the building he sees as a “weightless community floating inside a massive structure.”
“Don’t just look outside, come in and join,” Hyman said. “This is the highest expression of how we say ‘Hallelujah!'”