This past weekend marked a transition in the life of Temple Israel, the congregation I served for 47 years as rabbi and of which I am now the rabbi emeritus. The experience was a bittersweet one. On Saturday morning we held our last Shabbat service in the building that has served as our spiritual home for 65 years; and, on Sunday afternoon, we held a ceremony of deconsecration attended by members and friends. The ceremony was intended as a ritual to transform what had been for us a sacred space into an ordinary one. It was also an opportunity for congregants to mourn and to share their memories associated with the building.
As I walked in procession with the Torah scrolls, and as we made our way around the sanctuary one last time, I could see tears in people’s eyes. We are experiencing a deep sense of loss, but we are finding comfort in the memories we have, in our ability to share them with each other, and in knowing that we will continue as a congregation dedicated to worship, to study of our heritage, to fellowship, and to doing good deeds in the community. I am profoundly grateful to the congregants who suggested having this ceremony and participated in working out the ritual.
The Temple building is special to me, because it is where I served for all but two years of my active rabbinate and because it is associated with both happy and sad occasions in my personal life. My rejoicing on those occasions was heightened because it was shared with congregants, and my sadness was mitigated by their being there to reach out and comfort me.
In the Hebrew scriptures, reference to the holiness of time precedes mention of the sanctity of places. God blesses and sanctifies the Sabbath day at the conclusion of the creation of heaven and earth (Genesis 2:1-3). It is not until the 28th chapter of Genesis that Jacob, upon awakening from his dream of angels ascending and descending on a stairway to heaven and from hearing God’s promises to him and his descendants, declares the place where he had lain down to sleep “the abode of God and the gateway to heaven.” The word Kadosh meaning “holy” in connection to a place is first used in Exodus 3, when Moses at the burning bush is commanded to remove his shoes because he is standing on holy ground.
In our history, there have been two Temples in Jerusalem, the first built by Solomon in the 10th century B.C.E. and the second by the exiles returning from Babylon in the sixth century B.C.E. Both were referred to as beit ha-mikdash, literally “house of holiness.” When following the destruction of the Second Temple, the synagogue developed as an institution to replace it, prayer and Scripture reading took the place of animal sacrifices as the mode of worship, lay people were able to lead services, and rabbis (who were teachers and authorities on ritual and moral law) took on the role of communal leadership previously exercised by a hereditary priesthood. Synagogues could be established in any locality where Jews resided in large enough numbers to maintain a quorum for worship. Wherever it was located an active and functioning synagogue was considered a mikdah me’at, a small sanctuary, reflecting in some small measure the holiness of the ancient Temples.
There is holiness in time, the sanctity of Shabbat and festivals, holiness in places dedicated to a sacred purpose, and also a spark of holiness that resides within people, what scripture refers to as the divine image. We are physical beings, flesh and blood, but we are able to strive for holiness and experience it in moments of personal meaning and transcendence.
Even as I had feelings of sadness this past weekend about the building that had been so special to me, my focus was on the people I have known over the years, whom I led in worship, and to whom I ministered, many of them no longer among the living. They are what made Temple Israel special. Those of us who carry on the heritage of our congregation will always cherish our memories of what is now our former home and are strengthened by the faith that whatever the location to which we move and where we carry on our traditions will become a sacred place.
Rabbi Barry Marks is rabbi emeritus of Temple Israel in Springfield.
This article appears in June 25-July 1, 2026.
What a profoundly beautiful and noble moment in our community. Blessings to Rabbi emeritus Barry Marks and his community for such a moving and respectful conclusion to a long chapter of life at Temple Israel. The Greater Springfield Interfaith Association was welcomed many times to gather there for our meetings, celebrating the identity and hospitality of the Jewish community who abided in that space. I pray that their next chapter is one of new hopes, deep gladness and peace.
Rabbi Marks, I always feel spiritually healed when reading your remarks. You bring a balm, a calm to my soul. As I read about your letting go of a beautiful building I know that you continue to hold tight all those you have ministered over the years from that place. You and your former congregation are in my thoughts and I send positive energy to you all in your future endeavors.
Thank you, Rabbi Marks for your legacy of deep faith, community involvement and personal integrity. I have followed your ministerial life with much respect and gratitude. May your retirement bring You the blessings of a life well lived.
I just saw your comment, and I very much appreciate your kind words. Thank you.
It is a difficult transition for our congregation, but we are hopeful for our future.