Synagogue's invite to Muslims on Ramadan ends in tears
It started with good intentions.
When a Jewish temple in the San Fernando Valley opened its doors to Muslims for the holy month of Ramadan, its rabbis hoped to offer a model of interfaith outreach.
“There is more that unites us than divides us,” Rabbis Stewart Vogel and Richard Camras wrote in an email to Hamakom L.A.'s congregation announcing their plan to rent their synagogue to the Islamic Society of West Valley, whose own house of worship was too small to accommodate everyone for the holiday.
The rabbis understood that their plan was unusual, particularly at a time when death and destruction in the Middle East weigh heavily on Muslim and Jewish communities around the world.
But they sought to transcend that. Their temple — formed last summer in the affluent neighborhood of Woodland Hills when two synagogues merged — would be a beacon of goodwill and understanding, a place where L.A. Jews and Muslims could gather in mutual toleration, appreciation and grace.
Hamakom is a strongly Zionist community that believes Israel has a right to self-defense and self-determination. Many in the congregation were shocked when they read the rabbis' email.
Some worried about security. Others were bothered their evening programs and Friday Shabbat service would move to a different location. Most of all they wondered: Why were they notified the same day of the first Ramadan prayer service?
The dissent might have ended there. But just a few hours before Muslim worshipers started to arrive at the temple, a photo began to circulate.
It showed a display honoring Israelis taken hostage by Hamas in its Oct. 7. attack had been covered.
For many in the Hamakom congregation, the covering of Israeli hostages was a step too far. It represented an erasure of Israeli suffering and an unnecessary concession to political adversaries.
“It reminded me of World War II when Jews turned in Jews,” said Ronald Freeman, 69, a real estate investor and synagogue member for 40 years. “You want to use the word `traitor' — I don't know — or `collaborator.' But that was so damn offensive to me.”
Even congregants who supported renting the space to an Islamic society said obscuring the hostage photos was a sacrilege.
“My heart was betrayed,” Vera Rubinstein, a member whose grandchildren attend the temple's Hebrew school, posted on Facebook. “This was an absolute shonda!”
• • •
The partnership between the synagogue and mosque was the product of years of interfaith work.
When Shaykh Suhail Mulla joined the Islamic Society of West Valley in 2017 as resident scholar, Vogel and the other rabbis at Temple Aliyah invited him to speak at a Shabbat service to honor the legacy of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
Later that year, vandals painted antisemitic graffiti, including a swastika, on the guard shack at the entrance of the synagogue. Mulla, 51, a former social worker who leads a spiritual and psychological wellness center, delivered flowers.
Vogel, who trained in interfaith dialogue between Christians and Jews in the 1980s, reciprocated by attending a communal iftar meal to break the fast of Ramadan.
Dialogue is important, Vogel said, “because it challenges us to look beyond our assumptions, learn from one another and work together towards a more inclusive and harmonious society.”
Over the years, Mulla and Vogel swapped notes over coffee and lunch about spiritual leadership and how to connect with congregants.
One of Mulla's biggest challenges was that the west San Fernando Valley's Muslim community was growing so fast that his congregants could no longer squeeze into his small mosque for Ramadan.
So when Temple Aliyah merged with Shomrei Torah last summer, the Islamic society began negotiating with Hamakom's real estate board to buy the old Temple Aliyah later this year when Hamakom moved into a renovated home at Shomrei Torah.
The goodwill continued even after Oct. 7, when Hamas killed 1,200 Israelis and seized about 250 hostages.
Hamakom erected the tribute to hostages in a hallway and sent care packages to Israeli soldiers. In January, Rabbi Camras led a”solidarity mission” trip to Israel to witness the destruction at Kibbutz Kfar Aza and the Nova music festival.
Four miles east in Canoga Park, the Islamic society held nightly prayers for Palestinians as Israel bombarded the Gaza Strip. As the death toll climbed to 32,000 people and Gaza residents were trapped without food and basic supplies, the society also encouraged members to raise funds for Palestinian relief.
Through it all, the rabbis and imam maintain faith in the ties that bound Judaism and Islam together: a common origin in the Middle East through Abraham; a tradition of strict monotheism emphasizing the oneness of God; a reverence for biblical and Quranic shared prophets from Isaac to Moses.
“We have tried to build the understanding that we are relatives to one another,” Camras said.
Mulla agreed: “If two communities are going to band together, what better two communities than these?”
• • •
The rabbis and the imam did not broach the issue of the Israeli hostage photos until two days before Ramadan.
When Mulla came to Hamakom on March 8 to shoot a video with Vogel and Camras to promote their interfaith partnership, Vogel suggested they cover the photos.
It was a short conversation.
“It was brought up in the context of, `We both want to feel comfortable in this space. We don't want anything to offend you,'” Mulla said. “`We will cover those up. We don't want anybody in your community to be triggered.'”
In a gesture of sensitivity to the temple's Muslim guests, Mulla said, Vogel also offered to cover up Hebrew scrolls in the lobby. But Mulla declined because he felt covering the scrolls would be sacrilegious.
Mulla did agree to covering up the hostage photos, believing it was a political rather than theological display. But he stressed he did not ask for it to be taken down.
“Our people would have come into the space and respected the space, regardless,” Mulla said. “They know they're coming into another community space.”
On Friday night, Vogel said, he realized he had “extended the offer without thorough consideration” and made a “mistake in judgment.” But it was Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest.
The next day, Vogel and Camras agreed the hostages were an emotional issue and covering the photos was not in the best interest of their community. They reversed the decision.
But no one informed the custodial crew that had gotten instructions to cover the photos.
• • •
When Mulla arrived at Hamakom's bright white synagogue on March 10, half an hour before the first Ramadan prayer service began, he was overjoyed to welcome his community to such a comfortable new space — one he hoped would be their eventual home.
But Mulla immediately realized there was a problem.
Next to the covered photos in the lobby, he said, he spotted Hamakom's executive director, Aliza Goland, in tears.
“Is everything OK?” Mulla asked as he sat next to her. “What's wrong?”
Mulla said Goland told him she had been bombarded with emails from synagogue members.
“There's just been so much hate from our community,” Mulla said Goland told him.
Goland declined to confirm or deny this. In an email to the Times, she said that Hamakom's leadership team “received comments from the congregation through email” and that the situation “upset many.”
Scores of Muslim families were already spilling into the temple. Soon hundreds of worshipers were kneeling in lines facing Mecca for the Isha prayer.
Among those in attendance was Hussam Ayloush, executive director of the Council on American-Islamic Relations office in Los Angeles and a contentious figure in some Jewish circles for his public statements since Oct. 7. He has generated headlines for saying, “Israel does not have the right to defend itself” and “For 75 years, every single day for the Palestinian people had been Oct. 7.”
Stepping on to a ministage inside the temple, Ayloush called on the congregation to build interfaith bridges and urged worshipers to be thankful for the privileges they enjoyed when many people around the world, including in Gaza, had lost the ability to break fast.
“We're fasting by choice and will break our fast by choice,” Ayloush said. “The people of Gaza don't have the means, don't have access to food and drink.”
About half an hour later, in the middle of Tarawih prayers, one of the Islamic society's administrators told Mulla he'd gotten a text from Hamakom's board chairman. He wanted to meet.
“The community's unhappy,” the administrator said.