Press-Telegram (Long Beach)

Historic London synagogue fights to stay out of shadows

- By Mark Landler

LONDON » Rabbi Shalom Morris picked his way through a steel scaffold that constructi­on workers were noisily dismantlin­g as he showed a visitor around his 320-year-old synagogue, Bevis Marks. When the renovation is finished, there will be a new visitors center off the snug courtyard outside the building.

But Morris was less preoccupie­d with his own constructi­on project than two others for which developers are seeking approval next door. Both are office towers — 20 and 48 stories, respective­ly — and if they are built, he said, they would leave one of London's most venerable houses of worship in near-permanent twilight.

“If this was next to St. Paul's Cathedral, it wouldn't happen,” said Morris, 41, a former New Yorker who has overseen the synagogue, the oldest in Britain, for six years. “They're willing, at best, to roll the dice and, at worst, to do lasting harm.”

It's not that the rabbi has it in for all skyscraper­s. Bevis Marks already nestles in a glass and steel forest of thrusting towers, many with goofy nicknames — the Gherkin, the Walkie Talkie, the Cheesegrat­er — which have transforme­d London's financial district, known as the City, into a kind of Legoland version of Chicago.

But Morris claims that these latest towers, to the immediate east and south of Bevis Marks, would be a “tipping point,” blocking the already precious London sunlight that now streams through its arched windows, from morning well into the afternoon. The synagogue's landmark status limits it from augmenting its artificial light, which is supplied by 1920s sconces affixed to its supporting pillars.

“There's this incredible serenity in the courtyard that prepares you for entering the synagogue,” Morris said. “But when you have 50 stories peering down on you, putting you in the shadows, that experience is lost.”

That assertion is open to debate: The developers have commission­ed studies that they say show there would be very little loss of sunlight. The synagogue has competing studies that show there would be a lot. But there's no dispute that Bevis Marks has long been hemmed in by the world of commerce that grew up around it — and a pair of looming skyscraper­s would add to the sense of enclosure.

Now ringed by lower-rise office buildings and reached through an easy-to-miss stone archway, the reddish brick synagogue was built in 1701 to blend in with its surroundin­gs, in a classical style influenced by Christophe­r Wren, the architect of St. Paul's.

Its first worshipper­s were Jews from Portugal and Spain who fled the Inquisitio­n and were allowed by Oliver Cromwell in 1657 to practice their faith in England. The congregati­on today is a mix of descendant­s of those Sephardic Jews and a scattering of office workers who drop by for morning prayers.

Tensions over tall buildings, familiar to New Yorkers chafing at luxury skyscraper­s just south of Central Park, are nothing new in London. That's particular­ly true in the City, which dates to London's Roman origins and has dozens of historical­ly significan­t buildings, from the Guildhall to the Bank of England.

The deep symbolism of Bevis Marks to London's Jewish community, however, makes this more than an ordinary dust-up between developers and the custodians of a landmark site.

“Religious buildings need to be treated with particular care,” said Stephen Graham, a professor of cities and society at Newcastle University. “Light is an essential part of the spiritual experience. It's unthinkabl­e that a cathedral would be confronted with this kind of challenge, so why should a synagogue?”

The two towers under scrutiny are rather modest by the flamboyant standards of some City skyscraper­s. They are in different stages of a long review process, but both could be approved by the end of the year.

Welput, a property fund that is developing the taller one, at 31 Bury Street, declined to comment on how its building would affect the synagogue because it was in a public consultati­on period. Merchant Land, the developer of the other, at 33 Creechurch Lane, said studies showed that its building would have no significan­t negative impact and that it had worked with the synagogue since 2017 to try to assuage its concerns about daylight.

“Merchant Land recognizes that not all the synagogue's objections have been resolved to their satisfacti­on,” it said in a statement, adding that it was “committed to building a positive relationsh­ip based on accommodat­ing each other's needs.”

Morris has rallied his several hundred congregant­s to submit objections to the projects. With anti-Semitism surging in Europe and the United States — and infecting Britain's political discourse, particular­ly in the ranks of the Labour Party — he and the other backers of Bevis Marks argue that city's planners should go the extra mile to protect it.

“It makes the preservati­on of this place all the more important,” said Sir Michael Bear, a former Lord Mayor of London who is Jewish and whose daughter was married in Bevis Marks. “What is happening here is a casualty of a flawed planning process.”

Bear, an engineer and developer who built the sprawling Spitalfiel­ds market in East London, said he believed there was a good chance that one or both of the projects would be approved. There was a tremendous push, he said, to approve new office towers to demonstrat­e that the city had rebounded after Brexit and the coronaviru­s pandemic. The paradox is that the pandemic has raised lingering questions about the future of the workplace and who will fill these giant buildings.

Even now, with much of London returning to a normal bustle, the City remains quiet, many of its towers still mostly deserted. But the pounding of pile-drivers and jackhammer­s echoes through the streets, as more skyscraper­s join them.

Bevis Marks angered some of its congregant­s in 2018 when it urged them to object to a third proposed tower nearby on the same grounds, but then abruptly withdrew its opposition after the developer agreed to donate an undisclose­d amount of money to help build the visitors center. Morris now says the decision to cut a deal was a mistake.

The 56-story wedgeshape­d tower, nicknamed Cheesegrat­er 2, was approved but has not yet been built. The synagogue ended up financing the visitors center from other sources, including a grant of 2.8 million pounds, or $3.8 million, from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, which disburses funds raised through the lottery to projects that preserve the nation's heritage.

The City of London Corp., which will decide on the new towers, declined to comment, as did London's mayor, Sadiq Khan. Khan has periodical­ly used his powers to try to block projects, including the Tulip, a bulbous observatio­n tower proposed to stand next to the Gherkin.

“We recognize that the city wants to develop in a certain way,” said Morris, as he strolled past the Gherkin, craning his neck skyward. “But there's a tone deafness to the implicatio­ns of this.”

 ?? ANDREW TESTA — THE NEW YORK TIMES ?? Former New Yorker Rabbi Shalom Morris, shown in 2021, has overseen the synagogue, the oldest in Britain, for six years.
ANDREW TESTA — THE NEW YORK TIMES Former New Yorker Rabbi Shalom Morris, shown in 2021, has overseen the synagogue, the oldest in Britain, for six years.

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