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6 spectacular synagogues from a new book on Manhattan’s houses of worship
(New York Jewish Week) – In the mid 1990s, New York-based photographer Michael Horowitz wandered into the Eldridge Street Synagogue, a historic synagogue that is now dedicated to preserving the history of the Jewish Lower East Side.
At the time, the synagogue was undergoing a massive, $20 million, 20-year restoration. Horowitz, who is Jewish but said he is “not religious,” was moved by the resilience and perseverance of the congregation. Even more so, he was attracted to the building’s architecture and the dedication the community poured into preserving it.
Horowitz returned to Eldridge Street over the years to document each stage of the building’s renovations. It was in 2013, while looking for a new photography project, that Horowitz realized his impulse to document Eldridge Street could be translated to houses of worship throughout the city. He spent the next decade photographing Manhattan’s churches and synagogues — 95 of which are spotlighted in his new book “Divine New York: Inside the Historic Churches and Synagogues of Manhattan.”
Together, these buildings tell a fascinating New York story of immigration, architecture, faith and progress. “I wanted to open the doors to the public,” Horowitz, 71, told the New York Jewish Week. “I wanted to show everyone what was going on inside these buildings and show them how beautiful they are.”
He worked his way from Lower Manhattan through Harlem to some of the most notable houses of worship in the borough — from St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Midtown to the First Roumanian American Congregation, a now demolished Orthodox synagogue on the Lower East Side once known as “The Cantor’s Carnegie Hall.” Since beginning the project, a dozen of the buildings Horowitz photographed have been demolished, he said.
“Everyone should take the time and view them — even if you’re not religious,” added Horowitz, who has been interested in ecclesiastical architecture since he was a student at Queens College. “Then people will get an idea of what makes that specific group of people interesting and beautiful regardless of the dogma.”
According to writer Liz Hartman, who wrote the text to accompany Horowitz’s photos, these buildings tell the story of New York itself: When immigrant groups first came to the city with few resources, the structures were small and unassuming. Synagogues were built to serve one particular community — the Lower East Side’s Bialystoker Synagogue, for example, whose congregants were new immigrants from Bialystok, Poland. As the Jewish community began to prosper — and as immigrants began to arrive from all over Europe — synagogues became grander, more confident and diverse in membership.
“New York is the story of immigration, and the churches and synagogues are the story of immigration as well,” Hartman said. “Immigrants — New Yorkers — projected themselves through their houses of worship, and in a way that’s what made the city work. I hope that we can look at this project and see a story of immigrants — and see that we can support this with different groups going forward.”
Eleven of the houses of worship featured in “Divine New York” are synagogues. The New York Jewish Week tasked Horowitz and Hartman with selecting the most historically or architecturally significant synagogues of the bunch —no easy task because every house of worship in the book is a historic and notable one. Keep reading to see their selections and to learn more about these important Jewish sites.
Eldridge Street Synagogue (12 Eldridge St.)
A prominent stained glass window at Eldridge Street was destroyed in a 1938 hurricane — it wasn’t replaced until 2010, with a design from artist Kiki Smith (right). (Michael Horowitz)
This historic Lower East Side synagogue, dedicated in 1887, was the first synagogue building in New York erected specifically as a Jewish house of worship. “Right from the start, it distinguished itself from other synagogues by welcoming Jews from all over Eastern Europe while other congregations were defined by the towns or cities from which they came,” Hartman writes in the book. “It was also economically diverse; migrants right off the boat, peddlers, sweatshop workers, bankers, and entertainers were among its members.” The synagogue was also Orthodox at a time when New York’s grandest synagogues were being built by Reform congregations.
Eldridge Street Synagogue as seen from the balcony. (Michael Horowitz)
For decades, the synagogue thrived as Jewish immigrants filled the Lower East Side. However, by 1940, facing a dwindling membership, the congregation could no longer maintain the main sanctuary and closed it down. By 1970, the building was in danger of collapse and demolition. Students, journalists and historians teamed up to save the synagogue; the restoration began in 1986 and continued to 2007. Today, the building is known as the Eldridge Street Synagogue and Museum, which features exhibits, history and lectures on immigrant life in New York.
The Bialystoker Synagogue (7-11 Bialystoker Pl.)
The Bialystoker Synagogue is found in a Lower East Side building with an unassuming exterior, a holdover from the Methodist Church that was once there. (Michael Horowitz)
Founded on the Lower East Side in 1865, the Bialystoker Synagogue made its home in 1826 church building, purchased from a Methodist congregation, made with schist from Manhattan bedrock. The congregation maintained the austere exterior — though the interior was updated dramatically and boasts a grand ark and floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. Curiously, an image of a lobster is featured on the elaborately painted ceiling murals — with little explanation for how the non-kosher crustacean might fit into the synagogue’s mission or Jewish identity. One hint is that the panel marks the Hebrew month of Tammuz, which corresponds with the astrological sign of Cancer, the crab. “It was bought from the Methodist Mariner’s Church, and there were a lot of fishermen that belonged to that church,” Horowitz told the New York Jewish Week. Or perhaps a kosher-keeping muralist didn’t know the difference between a lobster and a crab.
An image of a lobster is on the ceiling of the synagogue, in a mural marking the Hebrew month of Tammuz. (Michael Horowitz)
The synagogue, built in a traditional Orthodox style, has a balcony for women worshippers. In one corner of the balcony, a hidden door leads to an attic, which Hartman writes was allegedly a stop on the Underground Railroad.
The synagogue underwent a renovation in 1988 and is still an active traditional Orthodox congregation.
Central Synagogue (652 Lexington Ave.)
Central Synagogue moved into its Lexington Avenue location in 1872. While most congregations face east, towards Jerusalem, Central faces west. Hartman explains that the real estate was “too good to pass up,” and the congregation decided to have an entrance on Lexington. (Michael Horowitz)
Completed in 1872, the building that houses the renowned Reform congregation in Midtown East seats nearly 1,500 people — a fraction of the congregation’s approximately 2,600 members. That’s a long way from the original 18 members from Bohemia, a region of the present-day Czech Republic, who started the congregation in 1846 in a remodeled church in the East Village.
Central Synagogue was built around the same time and in the same neighborhood as the Episcopal St. Thomas Cathedral and the Catholic St. Patrick’s Cathedral — some of New York’s grandest churches, which are also featured in the book. “Each of the groups were saying, ‘We’re here and we’re proud and we have prosperity.’ They were showing off, but in a really beautiful way,” Hartman said. “For Central, it was very much a message of assimilation. They were as interested in liberty, inclusion and reform as they were in Jewish ritual.”
Congregation Shearith Israel (8 West 70th St.)
Congregation Shearith Israel, also known as the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue, was the only synagogue in New York for nearly a century and a half. The congregation moved several times before finding a permanent home on the Upper West Side. (Michael Horowitz)
Congregation Shearith Israel, also known as the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue, was the first Jewish congregation in the United States, made up of Sephardic Jews who had arrived in New York in 1654 via Recife, Brazil. The congregation was the only Jewish one in New York for a century and a half before a faction of Ashkenazi members grew big enough to split off and form B’nai Jeshurun in 1825. While the congregation was housed in several different buildings throughout its history, it has been in its current home on the Upper West Side since 1896.
Temple Emanu-El (1 East 65th St.)
Temple Emanu-El was named one of eight “religious” wonders in the United States by CNN, writes Hartman. (Michael Horowitz)
Founded by a small group of German Jews in 1845, Temple Emanu-El has become one of the grandest and more well-known synagogues in New York, boasting prominent members like ex-mayors Ed Koch and Mike Bloomberg, as well as hundreds of other influential Manhattanites.
Considered one of the leading synagogues in the Reform movement, Emanu-El made waves throughout the 19th century for translating all-Hebrew services into German, then English, as well as for installing an organ and for abandoning the mechitzah, the traditional divider between men and women during prayer. After several spots downtown, the congregation moved into its current building on 5th Avenue — the former site of John Jacob Astor’s mansion — in 1927. It can hold 2,500 people, making it one of the largest synagogues in the world.
Park East Synagogue (163 East 67th St.)
The architects Schneider and Herter “took a no-holds-barred approach to the elaborate Byzantine-Moorish design of the synagogue,” writes Hartman of the arches, colors, stained glass and ark at Park East. (Michael Horowitz)
Built in 1890 by brothers Jonas and Samuel Ephraim in honor of their late father, Zichron Ephraim, this Orthodox synagogue has elaborate and eclectic arches, cupolas and stained glass throughout its design, reflecting its prominence in the New York Jewish community. “The design of the synagogue is anything but subtle and so, too, is its spiritual leader for more than 50 years, Rabbi Arthur Schneier, who is outspoken in his advocacy of religious freedom, human rights, and mutual respect,” writes Hartman.
It was Schneier who invited Pope Benedict XVI to Park East in 2008, marking the first ever papal visit to a synagogue in the United States. Schneier, who is currently searching for a successor, was conferred a papal knighthood for interfaith effort for religious freedom. For many decades, Park East was a haven for Jews who immigrated from the Soviet Union.
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Jewish Migration as an Oracle: What Jewish Migration Tells Us About the Fate of Nations
Masked radial pro-Hamas demonstrators in France on November 16, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect.
For generations, the movement of the Jewish people has served as a silent barometer for the stability of certain countries. It is a phenomenon that transcends simple demographics. When the Jewish community begins to leave a country where it had been settled for some time in significant numbers, they are not merely seeking better economic utility or responding to spiritual yearnings; they are signaling a major cultural and political shift that can precede a wider systemic failure.
To understand the future of Europe, Russia, and elsewhere, we must look at the benchmark of migration — and what it tells us about the crises of today.
How so?
When significant developments occur in the political arena, leaders and journalists often scramble for insights into whether a major shift is on the horizon. The Jewish community, however, asks a more visceral set of questions: What does this new reality promise? Is this the end of the chapter for Jews in this place? What is the right time to leave? Because Jews historically link uncertainty and suspected danger to migration, their movement becomes a signal — a mirror reflecting the strength and timing of a major political crisis.
History confirms that Jewish migration is not just a reaction to a crisis, but a predictor of its depth. It is a “canary in the coal mine.”
It is important to distinguish between routine migration and a mass migration, an avalanche. It is a sudden and unusually looking mass migration that is a signal of a terminal societal breakdown. And to capture that, we must establish a benchmark.
Historically, when a society is on the brink of or undergoing a total transformation or failure, we have seen between 50% and 75% of the Jewish population migrate within a five-to-ten-year window. The sample is small, but these figures are not speculative. They are the markers of history’s most significant ruptures:
- Nazi Germany (1933–1939): In the seven years following the rise of the Third Reich, 50% of the initial 503,000 Jews left the country.
- The Former Soviet Union (1989–1995): As the Soviet empire crumbled, 53% of its 1.5 million Jews migrated within seven years.
- North Africa (1960–1969): In Morocco and Tunisia, 72% of the Jewish population departed within a decade. In Algeria, that figure reached a staggering 75%.
These numbers represent more than just a move; they represent the liquidation of a presence. When 50% to 75% of a community leaves in a single decade, it is a definitive statement that the social contract in that nation has been broken. This is the benchmark against which all modern migration must be measured.
What does the oracle say about today’s realities then? In the aftermath of the October 7 attacks and the subsequent surge in global antisemitism, the media has often spoken in apocalyptic terms about the future of Jews in Europe and the West.
Questions like “Could it happen here?” have returned to the forefront of communal discourse across all Diaspora communities. Yet, if we look at the hard data of actual migration toward Israel, the “oracle” is telling a surprisingly different story.
Despite the ongoing conflicts and the visible rise in hostility, we are not seeing a mass movement of Jews of the Diaspora out of their countries at mass levels.
In Western Europe, the numbers of Jewish immigrants, to Israel and elsewhere, remain remarkably low. As of 2025, the projected percentage of would-be migrants over a seven-year period for the United Kingdom is only 3%. In France, a country often featured as the epicenter of European Jewish anxiety, the figure is 7%. Germany and the Netherlands sit at a mere 2% and 1% respectively. These figures are a far cry from the 50-75% threshold that signaled the end of Jewish life in 1930s Germany or 1960s Algeria.
In Russia, the initial shock of 2022 saw a spike where 68% of the population were considered would-be migrants — a figure that sat squarely within the benchmark of collapse. However, by 2025, that number had plummeted to 17%. Similarly, in Ukraine, the 2022 figure of 62% has dropped to just 7% by 2025.
All of this suggests that, for all the very real anxieties and the genuine rise in antisemitic incidents, the Jewish communities in the West still perceive a level of underlying stability in their host nations that is not reflected in the headlines.
If Jewish migration is a mirror of world peace, the current data suggests that while the mirror is cracked, the frame has not yet shattered. The mass exodus that characterizes the end of a chapter is simply not happening in London, Paris, or Berlin.
Equally importantly, the predictive power of this data remains a warning. The benchmark exists so that we can recognize the abnormal when it arrives. The fact that we have not reached the 50% threshold in Europe is categorically not an invitation for complacency; it is a baseline for measurement.
By monitoring these levels and intensities of migration and societal turmoil, we gain the ability to see the strength and timing of political shifts before they fully manifest. The oracle may be quiet for now, but its history tells us that when it speaks, the rest of the world ignores it at its own peril. Because Jewish migration is not about Jews, it is about the rest.
Dr. Daniel Staetsky is an expert in Jewish demography and statistics. He is based in Cambridge, UK.
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Israel Remembered the Shoah; Fatah Glorified a Palestinian Mass Murderer
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas attends the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, April 28, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Hamad I Mohammed
Earlier this week, Israel remembered the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis in the Holocaust, along with those who valiantly fought the Nazis.
Israel learned from the Holocaust that we must always remain vigilant, and this remains an absolute survival directive, living as we do next to the Palestinian Authority (PA), which, like the Nazis, celebrates the murder of Jews and Israelis.
One of the terrorists released by Israel in exchange for Israeli hostages in last year’s Hamas extortion deal was a Palestinian terrorist who murdered 12 people. He was expelled to Egypt, where he died from an illness last week. The mass murderer is now being eulogized by Palestinian Authority and Fatah officials as exemplifying the values cherished by all Palestinians.
The terrorist, Riyad Al-Amour, was no exception.
The PA honored the terrorist with a “mourning tent” — which was visited by top officials, including Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub.
Official PA TV reporter: “The Fatah Movement, the Ramallah and El-Bireh District, the [PA-funded] Prisoners’ Club, the [PLO] Commission of Prisoners’ [Affairs] … set up a mourning tent for Martyr and released prisoner deported to Egypt Riyad Al-Amour, who died as a Martyr…”
Fatah Central Committee Secretary Jibril Rajoub: “The most sacred thing in the eyes of the Palestinians is those who sacrificed their lives and their freedom – our Martyrs.”
[Official PA TV News, April 9, 2026]
Fatah issued an official statement revering the terrorist as “an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance” who was imprisoned by Israel since he “did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty.” [emphasis added]
Posted text: “Fatah announces with sorrow the death of released deported prisoner Riyad Al-Amour…
Al-Amour died while being distanced from his homeland, after a path of struggle in which he constituted an example of sacrifice, courage, and perseverance.…
Martyr Al-Amour joined Fatah in his youth and added that he did not hesitate to fulfill his national duty against the occupation until he was imprisoned in the occupation’s prisons, where he spent 23 years.
Fatah expressed its sincere condolences to the family…
High-level Fatah officials also mourned the terrorist on social media:
Posted text:“Fatah Central Committee members Abbas Zaki and Tawfiq Tirawi expressed their condolences over the death of released prisoner Riyad Al-Amour during a visit to the mourners’ house in Bethlehem.
The delegation expressed its deep sorrow over the death as a Martyr of Al-Amour, and emphasized that the sacrifice of the prisoners [i.e., terrorists] will remain present in the hearts of our people and that the struggle for freedom and independence must continue.”
[Fatah Central Committee member Abbas Zaki, Facebook page, April 5, 2026]
The family of Al-Amour — a “Pay-for-Slay” millionaire — will now have to wait and see if they will qualify for continued payments as family members of a “Martyr killed resisting the occupation,” since many PA officials also libeled Israel as being responsible for his death.
The Palestinian salute to Al-Amour is shameless, but as we have seen time and time again, for the PA and its leadership, terrorism is never something to be embarrassed about or part of one’s past to run away from.
On the contrary, in the PA’s “terrocracy,” the more you kill, the greater the respect you are given in life — and in death.
An additional homage to Al-Amour was made by Fatah’s “Shabiba” youth movement:
Fatah Deputy Chairman and Fatah Central Committee member Mahmoud Al-Aloul: “These Martyrs, Rashida [Mughrabi], and Riyad [Al-Amour], are among the patient ones fighting for their people, seeking freedom and independence for this Palestinian people.” …
Fatah Shabiba Youth Movement Nablus District Coordinator Rawhi Oudeh: “The message is a message of loyalty to their sacrifices, and a message of loyalty to keep their wills, and it is also a message that if Rashida and Riyad have departed in body, they will remain as a path, an idea, and an essence in the eyes, hearts, and conscience of the Fatah youth.”
[Official PA TV News, April 4, 2026]
Itamar Marcus is the Founder and Director of Palestinian Media Watch (PMW). Ahron Shapiro is a contributor to PMW, where a version of this article first appeared.
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Proposed Antisemitism Laws in France, Italy Stir Free Speech Debate
Procession arrives at Place des Terreaux with a banner reading, “Against Antisemitism, for the Republic,” during the march against antisemitism, in Lyon, France, June 25, 2024. Photo: Romain Costaseca / Hans Lucas via Reuters Connect
French and Italian lawmakers are due to vote on new laws defining antisemitism, proposed in the wake of a surge in anti-Jewish incidents but which critics say could be used to censor criticism of Israel.
The French law, which is scheduled to be debated on Thursday, proposes to sanction “implicitly” justifying terrorism, calling for the destruction of a state recognized by France, and comparisons of Israel to the Nazis.
The Italian bill, if adopted, would make Italy the first country to write into law the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) definition of antisemitism, which lists certain criticisms of Israel as examples of antisemitism.
DEFINING ANTISEMITISM IN LAW
Proponents of the laws point to the historic rise in antisemitism after Israel began its military campaign in Gaza following the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
Critics – including some rights groups, academics, and left-wing politicians – say that they will censor legitimate activism for Palestinian rights and contribute to conflating Jews with the state of Israel.
“The [IHRA] definition confuses what is permitted speech – and that is criticism of Israel as a state – with what is prohibited speech, which is antisemitism and racial and religious incitement to violence,” UN special rapporteur on free speech Irene Khan said.
The French law, which references the IHRA definition without fully adopting it, contained vague language, she added.
The Italian bill was approved by a large majority in the Upper House last month and is expected to begin its passage through the Lower House on Thursday. The French law has lost some political backing following a petition on the French parliamentary website signed by more than 700,000 people.
SHARP RISE IN INCIDENTS SINCE OCT. 7 MASSACRE
In Italy over two years from 2023, antisemitism rose by 100 percent to a record 963 incidents in 2025, according to the Italian Antisemitism Observatory. By comparison, there were 877 recorded incidents in 2024, preceded by 453 such outrages in 2023 and just 241 in 2022.
In France, antisemitism remained at alarmingly high levels last year, with 1,320 incidents recorded nationwide, according to the French Interior Ministry. Although the total number of antisemitic outrages in 2025 fell by 16 percent compared to 2024’s second highest ever total of 1,570 cases and 2023’s record high of 1,676 incidents, the ministry warned that antisemitism remained “historically high.” There were 436 antisemitic acts recorded in 2022, before the Oct. 7 atrocities.
France’s human rights commission, the CNCDH, has said that antisemitic acts in France regularly peak in relation to operations carried out by the Israeli army.
The commission, which was not consulted for the law, wrote to MPs and the prime minister in January to warn of the dangers of conflating “the hatred of Jews and the hatred of the state of Israel.”
Responding to this warning, Caroline Yadan, the French MP proposing the law, said that her text aimed to tackle “new forms of antisemitism” and that the “essentialization that Jews equal Israel exists in today’s society.”
The Israel-Hamas war has led to a wave of anti-Israel, pro-Hamas demonstrations around the world, which Israel and its supporters say are antisemitic.
Protesters say their criticism of Israel and its actions in Gaza should not be conflated with antisemitism.
Livia Ottolenghi, representative of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy, said the new law was necessary and did not prevent criticism of Israel.
“In Italy, we do not live well,” she said. “Our children have bars on their school windows; when they go out, they must be escorted.”
IHRA DEFINITION OF ANTISEMITISM
The IHRA working definition of antisemitism has been adopted by 45 countries as a guide but has not previously been written into law anywhere.
IHRA — an intergovernmental organization comprising dozens of countries — adopted the “working definition” of antisemitism in 2016. Since then, the definition has been widely accepted by Jewish groups and lawmakers across the political spectrum, and it is now used by hundreds of governing institutions, including the US State Department, European Union, and United Nations. Law enforcement also uses it as a tool for matters such as hate-crime investigations and sentencing.
According to the definition, antisemitism “is a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews. Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”
It provides 11 specific, contemporary examples of antisemitism in public life, the media, schools, the workplace, and in the religious sphere. Beyond classic antisemitic behavior associated with the likes of the medieval period and Nazi Germany, the examples include denial of the Holocaust and newer forms of antisemitism targeting Israel such as demonizing the Jewish state, denying its right to exist, and holding it to standards not expected of any other democratic state.
The Council of Europe Human Rights Commissioner Michael O’Flaherty said he viewed the IHRA definition as a useful tool but was concerned about its application, especially in Germany.
“To somehow attribute responsibility for the actions of a government to the Jewish community in Europe is totally unacceptable, and indeed, it does raise the specter of antisemitism,” he said. “But to somehow conflate any criticism of Israel with antisemitism is ridiculous.”
Sarya Kabbani, a French-Syrian woman, was put on trial under existing laws on antisemitism over carrying banners that drew parallels between Israeli politicians and Nazi Germany at a protest in Paris in December 2023. The 67-year-old, whose husband is Jewish, was later acquitted by a court.
“It is freedom of expression to be able to say that Israel is committing war crimes, is committing genocide, is carrying out ethnic cleansing, is occupying,” said the activist, who will join demonstrations against the French law this week.