The Old Mission

Late one blizzarding night, as we made our way across the pass to Coeur d'Alene, we saw a sign for a historic site.  It was not the time, nor the proper weather, for a stop, but we agreed that when we returned this way, we would make an effort to stop and see Coeur d'Alene's Old Mission. 

On our return trip the weather was intermittently snowy and sunny.  With better daylight and better road, though, we decided to stop and take a look.  

View of the mission from the highway

Large flakes of snow threatened when we first arrived.  

 Our first look at the church was impressive, as the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the freshly fallen snow in its radiance.

 Our awe only increased as we went inside the church and discovered that it had been built in the 1800's (completely in time for Christmas Eve 1842 according to a plaque inside), at a time when there were no roads or reliable forms of transportation - much less construction companies.

According to the brochure,

Before the first white men began entering the land, a tribe of Indians lived along the shored of Lake Coeur d'Alene and the surrounding territory.  They were a proud people - peaceful, intelligent, attractive.  They lived in teepees and moved throughout this area in search of game, fish, berries, and roots.

The tribe of 2500 to 4000 Indians was originally called the "Schee-chu-umsh" or "Schitsu'umsh."  They were renamed the Coeur d'Alene Indians, meaning "heart of the awl," by French trappers who considered them shrewd bargainers.  The Coeur d'Alenes were very spiritual, and when they heard that a neighboring tribe had "medicine man" of great powers, they decided they wanted this magic for themselves.  They sent out word that the "Blackrobes," Catholic Jesuit preists, would be welcomed among their people.  So in the early 1840's, Jesuit missionaries came into north Idaho.   


These Jesuit missionaries designed and built the church that you see pictured here.  They had trained and studied in various areas, including architecture and medicine, before arriving in this Rocky Mountain wilderness, and their various skills and talents were put to good use here.  Father Ravalli painted at least  one of the pictures below (quite possibly both).

 He also carved the two statues of Mary and John out of wood and painted them to look like the stone that was usually seen in churches.

This altar is also his work, again, formed out of common materials (pine) but made to look like the traditional marble of altars.  

There are similarly impressive works in niches to Mary and Joseph on either side of the main altar.  Each of the smaller altars, though looking like stone from a distance, are merely painted canvas.  In the case of Joseph's altar, the original writing on the canvas (from the wine they used) shows through, overpowering the ancient paint.  

The man working their told us about their ingenuity and ability to plan ahead and use whatever materials they had available.  Below he is demonstrating how the hooks on the wall could hold both candles and lanterns.  They only had candles to use at first, for they were able to make those on their own, but they knew that eventually they would get lanterns, and so planned ahead.

In the back rooms, behind the altars, one can get a glimpse of what the walls originally looked like, before they were paneled.  Mud and straw were the materials they had, and mud and straw were what were used.

Though much of the floor has been redone in the restoration, behind the altar the rough-hewn original wood floors can still be seen.  All the wood in the original structure was hewn with broad axes.

In the picture above you can also catch a glimpse of the walls, hand-painted to look like wallpaper.  Most of that is gone now (the original remains are near the floor on the right), but what can be seen gives an feeling for how impressive it was.


There was no foundry there, as our guide informed us.  The metal work?  It was all made from tin cans and such.  Use what you have.  Waste not, want not.  

There were pictures around the church depicting the stations of the cross.  Though the original pictures had been brought with them, they had painted the flower border to match  the "wall paper" and had created the frames.

Below is a view from the front of the church looking back.

The last thing our guide talked about was the ceiling, and that was an interesting enough subject to take up considerable time.  Brother Francis Huybrechts carved the ceiling, taking only 10 years to complete it.  Twelve panels make up the ceiling, each with their own symbolism and significance.  Though most of that has been lost, we can guess at some.

One notices that the panels get increasingly more complex as one moves from the back of the church to the front.  This seems to follow a tradition of decorations becoming more wonderful nearer to the altar to point to the glory of God.


As mentioned before, there are 12 panels.  The center ones have the boards oriented "vertically" (as they appear in this picture) while in the side ones the boards are oriented "horizontally."  Except for one.  The third from the back on the right is oriented differently.  Since ten painstaking years saw the creation of these panels, it is unlikely that their creator made a mistake.   More likely it symbolized something.  One suggestion is that the twelve panels are the twelve apostles, and the mistaken one represents Judas.  Another theory is that nothing made by man can be perfect - and so a minor imperfection is inserted to the work to remind us of that truth.


Of less symbolic interest, one also notices that the ceiling is blue.  Though the center panels have been restored with modern oil paint, some of the original stain can be seen on the side panels - from huckleberry stems.


The church, restored and still standing, is  a great reminder of the kingdom of God, pressing on, in spite of what seem like insurmountable odds.  I find I want to be like the Jesuits there: facing the challenges with ingenuity, stubbornness, and faith.

Seeing both sides

I must admit that I write this blog with fear and trepidation. This is such a hugely controversial topic that I am pretty much bound to offend someone, no matter how understanding I try to be. I must also admit that I am in no way qualified to address this subject (not that qualification seems to matter at all on the internet). Still, it's a topic that's keeps coming up in my mind, and perhaps this will provoke thoughts in my small readership.

Let's start with a relatively generic scenario. There are two friends. They've probably been friends for some time, but maybe haven't talked or seen each other for a while. They've sort of gone different directions over the years, one of them heading into the conservative Christian camp and the other coming out of the closet. Imagine the conversation that takes place when they finally start to catch up with each other and the inevitable announcement comes out: "I'm gay."

It really probably doesn't take much imagination. Many of you reading this have had such a conversation, or have heard of a friend's experience, or at very least have read the debate between the two sides raging over the internet.

I was pondering this the other day, thinking about the inability of the two sides to communicate, each side incensed by the foolishness, hatred, and/or anger displayed by the other side.

The conservative Christian perspective I can understand pretty well: that's my background and, with a few qualifications, I would still consider myself to be in that camp. In their (our) minds, someone announcing that they're gay is somewhat akin to someone saying that they've decided to become a serial murderer and they took their first victim yesterday. Imagine that conversation:

"What?" the Christian would say. "You just murdered someone? On purpose? In cold blood? Do you realize how wrong that is?"

The murderer would look offended. "What's wrong with that? I just really enjoy murdering people. I can't help it. I was born liking to kill things."

The Christian looks shocked and tries to explain, "I still really care about you, but what you're doing is clearly wrong! Lots of people will be hurt, and there are some terrible consequences you might have to face. I'm going to have to call the police for your own good. I can't just sit by and watch you ruin your life."

The murderer looks even more offended. "I can't believe that you can't accept me for who I am! If you don't like what I do, you can't like me. So I like killing people. What's it to you? I won't stop you from not killing people! How dare you try to stop me or change me!"

The Christian eventually decides that he is dealing with a crazy person who won't listen to logic and gives up…or…if internet debates are any indication, he also become angry and illogical. Alas, things are not always as they should be.

Obviously, the above imaginative conversation is unlikely to ever occur (and I don't mean to equate murder and homosexuality). The point is, from the perspective of many Christians, this is almost identical to the conversation they would have with a homosexual friend. Just as murder is clearly wrong (according to the Bible, as well as current laws), so homosexuality is clearly wrong and condemned by the Bible. (1 Corinthians 6:2, 1 Titus 1:10, and Romans 1:26-27 seems fairly clear in their condemnation, for example.) Thus, to the Christian with this perspective, the response of homosexuals to the condemnation of their lifestyle is baffling. The Christian friend thinks he's trying to help his friend and is understandably hurt and stunned when he is perceived as being intolerant and hateful. Such was not his intention. (It is unfortunately true that not all Christians have good intentions and it must be admitted that some are actually being intolerant and hateful.)

The homosexual perspective is one which I do not understand as intuitively, but I assume that they must also feel that they are being the reasonable ones in the situation, so I began searching for some sort of analogy that would help me better understand.

What if there were a religious group based on an ancient religious document which made occasional remarks on the inherit sinfulness of red-heads. Though these remarks are debated in modern times ("Is it a cultural prohibition? Does it really mean what it says?"), there are still enough people who believe in this archaic document for it to become a point of contention. A movement against red-heads might be formed.

"Dye or die!" could be a slogan.

Maybe some pun about fiery hair and the fires of hell.

It might even happen that a conversation like this would occur:

"Alana, I've really been meaning to confront you on something. Red hair is a sin!" a friend might say to me one day.

"It's not like a chose to have red hair!" I would protest. "I was born with it! It's genetic! What do you want me to do? Dye it brown every few weeks and pretend to be something I'm not? Just to avoid offending you? My hair is part of what makes me who I am. You have no right to ask me to change that!"

The friend would look earnest and concerned. "But I really believe that my religious document teaches that red hair is sinful and will cause you to be eternally punished. You can choose to dye it, or even just cut it all off. I just can't bear to see you make the horrible decision to keep it."

"So you believe in a God who made me have red hair and then punishes me for it? That's hardly fair," I would retort, growing increasingly more offended.

The friend might look confused and embarrassed at this point, unsure how to either agree or disagree without compromising something.

Now back to reality. Again, a rather ridiculous scenario, and yet again, with only a couple small changes, this is roughly the sort of conversation that takes place all the time. For me, though, it helps me understand why both sides find the other ridiculous (though again, homosexuality is quite different from having red hair).

Of course, this still leaves us with a dilemma: who's right, and what is wrong? Do we condemn homosexuality, or do we abandon (or edit) the ancient manuscript that speaks against it?

You know me. As crazy at it sounds to most people today, I have to go with the book. This is becoming an increasingly uncommon view, though.


In each culture there seem to be "culturally acceptable sins." We probably notice these sins more when we look at a different culture. For example, in some countries, stealing is as natural as breathing, even among Christians. We look at that and wonder how they can justify such blatant sin. We forget just how easy it is to rationalize sin, especially when it's excused by people around us (or when it is hidden). We have our own culturally accepted sins that other cultures would condemn: we don't honor our elders, we are confrontational to a fault, we are inhospitable, we are selfish and self centered and value our individual welfare above that of the community. All of these things (and more) we have ways of excusing and explaining and justifying, and all of these things would be shocking sins to Christians from other cultures. As always, it's easier to see the speck in your brother's eye than the log in your own, and with our own 'just' standards fairly in place, we tend to build hills to die on and gather stones to throw. We would rather yell at others to fix their flaws than spend a moment looking at our own.

To come to the point, there seem to be what I will call "micro-cultures" within the American church (and I don't mean denominations). In one of those micro-cultures, homosexuality has become culturally accepted and is no longer seen as a sin, in contrast to the view of the opposite micro-culture. Each seeing the faults of the opposite culture more clearly, stones are gathered and fingers are pointed:

"You don't take the Bible seriously! How can you ignore the clear condemnations of homosexuality!"
"You are unloving and bigoted! How dare you condemn people that God loves?"

Perhaps both camps would do well to stop flinging accusations and instead take a moment to consider the accusations that have been flung at them. I would agree that homosexuality is clearly condemned by the Bible, but so is pride and self-righteousness. In the end, if our gospel doesn't offer hope, help, and ultimately salvation to the homosexuals, as well as to the rest of the prideful, angry, selfish, sinful people in our congregations and country, then we are failing in our mission.

Random thoughts.

1.  I've been state-side for nearly 3 weeks now.  

2. Which means that I've adjusted to somethings, at least.   For example, I rarely look for a trash can in which to throw my toilet paper any more.  

3. I found a resturant in town that serves falafel, which I find quite impresive, considering the size and location of my town.  It's pretty tasty too.  I might just have to visit it more often...

4. I'm working on integrating some things from Israel into life here.  For example, tonight for dinner I made "mujadarah"- a middle eastern dish including rice and lentils and fried onions.  Here is an example recipe, though it's not the exact one I used.  In honor of Shabbat I also made challah bread, which turned out quite well.  The recipe I used is the first one on this page.  

5. The other day I bought mint and sage so I could make Bedouin tea.  The mint reminds me of Jordan and the sage reminds me of Dahab...and both make me want to go back...

6. I head up to camp tomorrow...or I guess it's today now... so that I'll be able to settle in a little bit before I have to feed everyone (perhaps single-handedly) on Sunday.  

7. I'm kind of sad to be leaving town again, just as I've started to re-connect with some old friends...but on the other hand, I'm rather looking forward to having a demanding schedule again.  I'm hoping that new friends and lots of work will help take my mind of missing Israel and friends from there.  

8. I've started reading Jerusalem Post headlines online.  I find that when people find out I've been to Israel, the first thing they ask about is the current political situation.  If they were to ask about the political situation during the time of Solomon, I might be able to help them, but they never seem to be interested in that.  The joys of being an ancient history major. :)  So I've decided that over the summer I need to educate myself more on the modern state of Israel and current events there.  

9. Lately, removal of outpostAmerican pressure to stop settlement growth have been the subject of debate in the headlines.  It's interesting to see different perspectives batted around.  Settlers are among the most extreme people in Israel, unwilling to give up even an inch of the land they believe they are Biblically entitled to.  I'll quote from this article:

"Israelis must acknowledge that just as Israel's right to exist cannot be denied, neither can Palestine's," the US president said at Cairo University. "It is time for these settlements to stop."

Such statements are rejected out of hand by residents here, who view the increase in American pressure as misguided and ill-informed.

"I think it's symptomatic of Western thought," Gal said. "They read so deeply into a situation that in reality, is quite simple. We're the Jewish people and this is our home, and the Arabs are not going to stop attacking us if we leave Givat Asaf. If Israel pulls back from the settlements, Ben-Gurion Airport will become the next target. You have to ask yourself, what could we possibly gain from another disengagement?"

I have to say that this settler's arogance really struck me.  "We're the Jewish people." As if that is the answer to all questions.  To them it is.  If we push theology aside for a moment, historical rights are hard to determine.  Jews base their claim to the land on their historic presence there as documented by the Bible.  However, the Canaanites had possession long before the Hebrews came, and Arabs and Turks ruled long after the Jewish people were scattered abroad.  As far as total time in the land is concerned, Jews really have a debatable claim.  Of course, everything is far more complicated...which is one reason I wish both Jews and Arabs would be less black and white in their perspectives.  

10. And on the other side there is this article:

An IDF soldier was lightly wounded Tuesday morning after a 13-year-old Palestinian boy stabbed him at the Hawara checkpoint, south of Nablus.

Soldiers arrested the assailant, who had entered the checkpoint through the "humanitarian lane," which is meant to be used by Palestinians in need of immediate medical attention and therefore bypasses the inspection in the regular lane.

Such actions seem to lend credence to the settlers' claims.  There is always food for thought in the events in modern Israel...usually depressing thoughts.  It's a mess.

11. I talked to my brother and sister-in-law tonight, which was good.  We talked about my perspective on my church since coming back and sort of brainstormed ideas on how to make all my new-found knowledge useful to the Body.  This question is sort of a corollary to one of the most commonly asked questions I get: "What are you going to do with this degree?"  I tell people, "I will be a better informed Christian."  If nothing else, I want to be able to use what I've  learned to encourage people in their faith...but I want to do that without being a critical know-it-all.  That balance could be difficult to find.  Something to work on this summer.  

12. And with that, it's high time that I head to bed.  My next post will probably be about some camp adventures.  :)

The Church in the East

Today I went on my first “real” field study of the semester – and it was for a class I’m not even in: History of the Church in the East. It was a class that I wanted to audit because I know very little about the history of the church, especially before the reformation, which is really rather a sorry state of affairs. However, I decided that for sanity’s sake, I might be better off not taking the course. So instead, I just joined them for their field study today.

It was a rather different flavor of field study than those I had experience thus far, which is to be expected. I really enjoyed it, though.

First of all, I’d like to say that I really like Petra Heldt, the teacher of the class. She was very welcoming of me, a visitor to the class, which I appreciated. She is well known throughout the Christian community in Jerusalem (and Israel) and well respected. I think she has connections pretty high up with pretty much every denomination in the country. She’s pretty spunky, in addition to knowing a ton about all sorts of things, which made the trip fun. The only problem is that she talks very quietly and at times I was unable to hear what she was saying.

Secondly, I’d like to say that I’m really glad to have an umbrella this semester (thanks mom!) While we were blessed enough to be inside whenever the rain (or hail) really started pouring down, it was still handy to protect against the softer rain.

Our morning started by Jaffa gate where we met up with Petra. The best sight there was the Jewish men with their fancy hats covered in plastic bags (while still on their heads) to protect against the rain. Knowing how expensive those hats are, I guess it makes sense. It’s just odd. In my part of the word, hats are to be protection from the elements, not protected from the elements. Oh well.

From Jaffa Gate we proceeded on to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (or the Church of the Ressurection). Before arriving there we paused to talk a little about the iterations the church has gone through. Originally it was much longer and was entered from the east. Today it is smaller and is entered from the south. It also now has two mosques right next to it (in addition to being owned by a Muslim family), one the Omar mosque and the other something like the Strangulation mosque, I believe. Indeed, in many ways the Muslims are very purposeful in their attempts to strangle Christianity. It is felt very strongly by some of the Christians we visited today.

(These two pillars used to be one really tall one in the original church.)

Once inside the Church we looked around, visited various stations of the cross and various parts of the church owned by various denominations and learned about their significance, their traditions, their stories. We even saw the sword of Godfrey the crusader which, I believe, is still used today to knight the Knights of the Holy Sepulcher. There is a lot of really meaningful symbolism throughout the church, which we Protestants tend to miss. Probably one of my favorite things was at the site of Golgotha in the upper level of the church. You enter the room(s) and all you see are pictures of Christ, being nailed to the cross, or of Mary and John weeping as Jesus dies. And in the midst of the great sorrow and pain of these pictures you look up as if to ask God, “Why?” And then all across the ceiling you see mosaics celebrating the resurrection. What a good reminder that we as humans tend to look only horizontally and all we see are pain and suffering. When we remember to look “up” to God, that’s when we see the whole picture more clearly.


We then left the church and went up above it, through an Ethiopian church, to a roof where the quarters for the Ethiopian nuns and monks were located. We continued on to the Coptic Church where we were welcomed by the Arch-Bishop of the Coptic Church in this region. How impressive is that? He was a very nice man. We sat in a beautiful (though chilly) sort of grand hall and were served juice, cookies, and tea (in china, no less). We were able to ask him some questions. I don’t specifically remember anything he said, but it was encouraging. I think my general attitude towards the Orthodox Church has been changing. While I still don’t necessarily agree with their theology (or theologies, since there are many orthodox churches) or how they do things, etc., I think many of them are truly our brothers and sisters in Christ, and we should be more willing to cherish them as such.

From there we ran, through the rain and rivers running in the streets to a Syriac church were we met with another man. I don’t think he was quite as high on the totem pole, but that’s ok. :) He told us a little about his church, and I think he really shared his heart – his discouragement and even despair about the state of the church, about the persecution they’ve undergone and are still enduring, about all the talk among church leaders with no real change. We prayed with him for the Holy Spirit to come and renew and revive people.

From there we ran to the bus by Jaffa Gate and headed to the Monastery of the Cross. As the story goes (if I understood correctly) apparently Lot planted a seed, or maybe a stick given to him by Abraham, and it grew into a tree that was actually three different trees in one. He took good care of it and watered it daily. At some point the tree(s) was cut down and used to make the threshold of the temple. Then, when it was no longer needed there, it was used to form the cross that Jesus was crucified on. Apparently the monastery and church are located on the spot where the tree originally grew.

We ate lunch at the monastery in their old (crusader period?) dinning hall. I believe that Petra said at one point there were around 10,000 people at the monastery and they ate in 10 minute shifts. We got to see the kitchen and the huge pots that they used for food at some point too. They were really huge. I mean, I think that I have some huge pots and camp, but they’re nothing in comparison. The vat would fit into these things, oh, maybe 6-8 times? It took two of us to lift one a couple inches off the ground.

After that we went to another monastery who’s name escapes me…but it was dedicated to John the Baptist and we visited a cave that he supposedly prayed in. It was in the Sorek Wadi and we recognized the place across the valley where we hiked down last semester. It’s really a beautiful area, even more so now than it was in the fall, in spite of the rain and low visibility. There we almond trees blooming all over the place, as well as various other little wildflowers. There were also some piles of hail/snow – almost enough to go sledding on…if you had a really short sled… :)

Our last stop of the day was at a church at Ein Karin (the Spring of the Vineyard). This is supposedly the place where John the Baptist grew up, across the valley from the Monastery with his cave. Apparently also, tradition (or something) says that Herod also sought to kill John the Baptist when he was a babe (at the same time he tried to kill Jesus.) However, and angel kept Elizabeth and John safe by opening a hole in a cliff for them to hide in and then closing it behind them until they were safe. However, angered at this failure, Herod had his men go kill Zacharias in the temple instead. I had never heard this story before, so I have no idea how true it is or where its origins lie, but it was interesting. This church had depictions of the Angel hiding Elizabeth and John. It was rather a unique church in a few ways. First, the painting style was quite unique. Petra said that it was fairly recently done (maybe in the 50’s?) and in a very romantic style. I thought it was quite beautiful, but it was very different from all the other churches. It also has a wall with Mary’s Magnificat in most of the major language of the world. I didn’t get to examine them too closely because they were outside and it was raining and we were headed back to the bus. Maybe someday. I liked that area quite a lot.

That was pretty much our day. It was an enlightening experience. In spite of the heavy rain and the wet shoes and cold nose, I’m glad I went.

Churches and such

Yesterday I had the chance to actually go to two different churches for two different reasons.

In the morning I went to St. Andrew's Scottish Presbyterian Church, just across the Hinnom Valley from my school. (Maria, I thought of you!) It was a pretty good service. (I liked the windows too.)
The message was on Matthew (specifically 25:31-46). Of course. I seem to be unable to escape Matthew. My pastor at home has been going through Matthew for a couple years now. I'm taking a class on Matthew this semester. I don't claim to know much about the church calendar for readings and such, but apparently the book of Matthew has been part of the scheduled readings for this semester. Therefore, since of the 4 times I've been able to attend church this semester, I've gone twice to an Anglican church and once to a Presbyterian church, those three services have been on Matthew. It's kind of funny, but hey, it's a good book, so I won't complain. Anyway, I'm not sure that I would agree theologically with everything that was said, but for the most part it seemed pretty solid. The preacher started out with a story of how world renowned violinist Joshua Bell had once gone to the train station in Washington DC and started playing like a student trying to earn some extra cash. He played for nearly an hour and only a couple people stopped to listen. He earned something like $32, when just nights ago hundreds of people had payed hundreds of dollars to hear him play in a large concert hall. How often are we so busy with our life that we miss things like that? In the context of Matthew 25:31-46, how often are we so busy that we miss opportunities to do good? Jesus here doesn't judge people based on the bad that they did but on the good they failed to do. Hmm...

After the service we stayed around for a bit and talked to people. I gather that it's normally a pretty small congregation. There were probably about 10 of us from JUC and then there was a group of about 20 visiting from Edinburgh. All together, we must have made up over half the congregation. The only people I ended up talking to were the visitors, but they were very pleasant people. It makes me sad, though. There are so many huge church buildings over here representing so many different denomonations, and they have such tiny memberships. I kind of get the feeling that they are just surviving, not thriving. I do hear, though, that the palestinian church is growing quite a bit, which is encouraging.

As we were heading out Vernon showed us the sight of "Ketef Hinnom" (meaning "the shoulder of Hinnom"). This site was excavated by my own archaeology professor, Gabby Barkay. In fact, it was kind of the sight that made him famous. It also provides numerous problems for the minimalists, which is always a good thing. :) I don't know much about it, but maybe I'll ask in my next archaeology class.

Last night, after finishing my Matthew paper, I headed out with some people to the Dormition Abbey for a free brass ensemble concert! I hadn't been inside the Dormition Abbey before, and it was pretty impressive. As Cameron said, one wonders where they get the money for that sort of a building. (I guess in this case, Kaiser Wilhelm probably provided most of it.) And I wonder if the money could be better spent elsewhere? I mean, how important is it for a church building to be beautiful? I don't think that it's entirely unimportant, but it seems like there are so many other things that should take precidence. Anyway, the concert was a lot of fun. The group was, I believe, from Germany, which means that most of the explanations were done in German. Unfortunately, I understand very little German. Oh well. I enjoyed the music anyway, and recognized some of the songs. And yes, they definitely played Mary Bennet's song ("Slumber dear maid....") It made me smile and wish for someone who would get the joke. They may have not been the best ensemble ever, but since pretty much the only concerts I've been to in recent years have been High School bands, well, I thought they were pretty decent. :) It was fun hearing the resonance in the church too. It made me think fondly of all my brass playing relatives and friends. Miss y'all!

Oh, and while we were there, Peter noticed something about the floor of the church. You may remember a while ago from our Galilee trip I mentioned that a lot of Synagogues in that region had the Zodiac in mosaics on their floor? Well this church did too. Which I find very odd. Why would they do such a thing? It makes even less sense than it did in Jewish Synagogues. Odd.