Almost every war has one photographic image that emerges and that remains ingrained in the public\’s mind — and the media — as the defining picture of that war.
Don\’t call them synagogues.
They are minyanim, or spiritual communities. They have evolved from shared and individual dreams and from serendipitous, profound and beshert connections. They are new, egalitarian, independent, warm, collaborative and vibrant.
And they are all led by female rabbis.
Sitting behind a crocheted curtain, I desperately tried to peer through the tiny holes to get a glimpse of the action on the men\’s side.
Finally, I gave up, and pushed the curtain aside, and saw our chazan auctioning off portions of the services.
It is a familiar sight. On each flight to Israel, in the back of the plane, a minyan gathers for services.
At first glance, Temple Beth Zion, on a busy stretch of Olympic Boulevard in the mid-city, looks stark and abandoned.\n\nThe front door is locked, the religious school has been closed for almost four decades, and the daily minyan and Friday-night serviceare gone (many of the some 135 members, most of whom are aged 75 to80, can no longer drive at night).\n
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