Tradition

Once synagogue murals were typical, but today they are very rare. The Burlington mural’s content and design is part of a Jewish art tradition common in Eastern Europe prior to World War II. When our mural was created in 1910, it was meant to be a visual link between the physical and spiritual worlds. It also provides a physical link between the Old World and the New, reflecting distant homelands and traditional practices, offset by signs of American modernity/progress. During the Holocaust, very few synagogue paintings survived destruction by the Nazis. Fewer still were maintained by the decimated Jewish communities remaining after the war or by new owners who occupied former Jewish buildings. Today, this striking painting is one of only a handful of extant European-style murals in North American synagogues. The others are mainly fragmentary and comparatively small. None are quite so grand, complete, or compelling as this one.

Technique

The Burlington mural was commissioned in 1910 by the Chai Adam congregation, a group that had broken off from Burlington’s first Orthodox congregation, Ohavi Zedek, nearly twenty-five years earlier. (In 1939 the two groups would reunite). The painter, Ben-Zion Black, probably made drawings and perhaps small watercolor or oil versions of the result you see here, but thus far we have not been able to locate any of them. Local tradition says that Black painted the mural in six months for a fee of $200. He probably used temporary scaffolding and painted directly onto the pre-existing plaster walls and ceiling, possibly painted blue, using an oil-based paint.

Symbols

The symbolism of the mural is at once obvious and layered, combining primary symbols of Judaism in ways that allow multiple interpretations simultaneously. Ben Zion Black used bold theatrical colors and lines as a rabbi might choose to emphasize a particular theme and meaning of a Torah passage one year, and another at a different time. Inscriptions that we know today from a surviving photo and a few fragments provided worshippers with clues to some meanings and the occasional sermon prompt.

At center is a ribbon, a crown and the Decalogue (Ten Commandments), supported by rampant lions – familiar from both heraldic and Jewish tradition. The two Hebrew words on the ribbon can be transliterated as Keter Torah (Crown of the Torah). Where in a church’s apse one might find an enthroned Jesus or Mary, here only the word of God is exalted.

The arrangement recalls the throne of Solomon described in the Book of Kings, which was also supported by carved lions – and so much more. The Burlington lions can be seen in their more common guise, familiar in all sorts of synagogue applications, as surrogates for Jews (i.e., Lions of Judah), supporters and defenders of Torah. The images are framed and richly layered with painted curtains supported on four strong columns. These may represent the Jerusalem Temple; and so this timeless Biblical architectural history conflates the Tents of Jacob, the Tabernacle, and the Jerusalem Temple while also linking to the contemporary synagogue, too.

Inscriptions

Keter Torah (Crown of Torah)

At center is a ribbon, a crown and the Decalogue (Ten Commandments), supported by rampant lions – familiar from both heraldic and Jewish tradition. The two Hebrew words on the ribbon can be transliterated as Keter Torah (Crown of the Torah).  Veneration of the “Crown of Torah” stems from a passage in the Pirkei Avot 4:13:

Rabbi Shimon said, “There are three crowns: the crown of Torah; the crown of priesthood; and the crown of royalty. However, the crown of a good name is greater than all of them.” Rabbi Shimon [bar Yochai] lived in the middle of the second century of the common era. With only one exception, he is referred to throughout the Mishnah simply as Rabbi Shimon. The great medieval Jewish sage Rashi noted that the crown of Torah, a result of study, is open to all while the crown of priesthood and the crown of royalty require a certain lineage. The crown of a good name follows from the crown of Torah. Thus, the Keter Torah, was a goal of all observant Jews.

Ma Tovu Prayer & Psalm 82

Brightly painted rays of light seem to emanate from within and beyond the curtained enclosure. In case we are unsure of how to locate ourselves, the Ma Tovu prayer (“How goodly are thy tents O Jacob”) and the opening of Psalm 82, read every Tuesday after the morning services (and sometimes translated as “God stands in the Divine Assembly”) are inscribed above and beside the Ark. That psalm goes on to offer timely advice to an immigrant community: “Judge the poor and fatherless; do justice to the afflicted and destitute. Rescue the poor and needy; deliver them out of the hand of the wicked.”

Ki Mi Zion Tatze Torah prayer

Immediately over the Ark and under the Commandments, Black included the text of the Ki Mi Zion Tatze Torah prayer: “For out of Zion shall go forth the Torah, [And the word of the Lord from Jerusalem].” This recognition of the centrality of Jerusalem and Zion is an appropriate affirmation for a diaspora community. It may also be a self-conscious nod to the painter himself: Ben-Zion (son of Zion) Black. The inscriptions were painted in large Art Nouveau-styled letters, linking Black to the international movement that was heavily influenced by Jews. Black’s flair for sign painting is already evident.

150th (Hallelujah) Psalm

Ben-Zion Black was an avid advocate of Yiddish, more at home in the theater than in the shul, so there is a touch of Yiddish theater decor here, too. Originally, other symbols were painted further down the wall on either side of the Ark, including musical instruments to illustrate the 150th (Hallelujah) Psalm. That Psalm was more famously illustrated by  another Lithuania-born immigrant artist, Ben Shahn.

Antecedents and Comparisons

Antecedents and Comparisons

The Chai Adam mural by Ben Zion Black is part of a long tradition of synagogue wall painting that was particularly advanced in Eastern Europe between the early 18th and mid 20th centuries. Many of the great examples existed in wooden synagogues which were almost all set fire during the Holocaust, so that only fragments of these holy decorations are known from old photographs and occasional documentary watercolor paintings. Certain elements of the Burlington mural, such as the rampant lions and the elaborate draperies, recall these older works. For example, compare the paired lions of Mogilev, Belarus, painted in the early 1700s with those made in Burlington in 1910.

Today, nothing quite like the Burlington mural survives in Europe, there are no other examples in the United States, and only one synagogue mural, at Congregation Knesseth Israel in Toronto, Canada (recently restored), equals this one in size, scope, completeness and Jewish meaning. In Montreal, a city with close connections to Burlington, the Bagg Street Shul has a set of painted lions over the Ark, added some time after 1920, which like Chai Adam, are accompanied with the inscribed words of the Ma Tovu prayer.

Only a few much damaged fragments of wall painting survive from all the synagogues of Lithuania, most notably from Čekiškė, the town of origin for many of Burlington’s Jews. Today, in all of Eastern Europe only a handful of surviving painted synagogue decorations can compare with the Lost Mural in the preservation and completeness of their design, although more fragments continue to be discovered.

The recently conserved paintings of Pinczow (Poland) and Boskovice (Czech Republic) are mostly pure decoration, not Ark adornments rich in the Jewish symbolism that carried deep meaning for their communities. Remains of paintings from smaller urban prayer houses painted in the early 20th century, such as those in Bedzin and Krakow (Poland) and Chernivtsi (Ukraine), are closer in spirit to the Burlington mural, though quite different in content.  Perhaps the closest correspondence can be seen in the fragmentary mural located in the former Beth Midrash in Piotrków Trybunalski, Poland, which was probably painted in the 1930s.

Some sense of the original painted type of ceiling can still be seen in the Walnut Street Shul in Chelsea, Massachusetts, and in the Tsori Gilod Synagogue, in L’viv, Ukraine, painted in the 1930s.

Read more about other former synagogues where wall painting have been discovered, or about synagogues still in use where the decoration is part of this tradition:

Read more about the destroyed wooden synagogue and painting of Mogilev, Belarus

Read more about about the former synagogue of Čekiškė, Lithuania

Read more about Piotrków Trybunalski, Poland

Colors

Colors are very important in the art and meaning of the mural, and the recent cleaning is revealing a very different color scheme than that first visible. Greens are revealed to be rich and bright blues; oranges are reds; and so forth.

In 1986, we thought we knew what the original coloration scheme looked like. HOWEVER, in the process of cleaning, Connie Silver, our conservator, discovered that the colors were very different than we imagined. As a consequence, we now realize that the two outer panels, containing drapery and columns, reflect the colors of the original Ark of the Covenant and the Tabernacle.

What that suggests is that, while Mural elements should describe the first 4 pieces, “colors” should be an independent page that connects to the 2013-2015 process of cleaning the mural.

Importantly, the draperies are revealed to be blue, which is a particularly important color in Judaism, especially when it is associated with holy textiles. Blue was used for coverings and fabrics used in the Tabernacle (the Tent of Meeting) as described in the Book of Numbers 4:6-12; blue cloths were used for covering and carrying the sacred implements.

Numbers 4:6:  “Then they shall put on it a covering of goatskin and spread on top of that a cloth all of blue, and shall put in its poles. 7 And over the table of the bread of the Presence they shall spread a cloth of blue and put on it the plates, the dishes for incense, the bowls, and the flagons for the drink offering; the regular showbread also shall be on it. 8 Then they shall spread over them a cloth of scarlet and cover the same with a covering of goatskin, and shall put in its poles. 9 And they shall take a cloth of blue and cover the lampstand for the light, with its lamps, its tongs, its trays, and all the vessels for oil with which it is supplied. 10 And they shall put it with all its utensils in a covering of goatskin and put it on the carrying frame. 11 And over the golden altar they shall spread a cloth of blue and cover it with a covering of goatskin, and shall put in its poles. 12 And they shall take all the vessels of the service that are used in the sanctuary and put them in a cloth of blue and cover them with a covering of goatskin and put them on the carrying frame.”

Synagogue Painters of Eastern Europe

In Eastern Europe before the Holocaust, there were hundreds of these synagogues and probably scores of synagogue painters, too. today, we know the names of only a few but scholars are slowly piecing together more and more information about this rich Jewish art tradition.

Wooden synagogues were mostly found in what is now Poland, Lithuania, Ukraine and Belarus, but there were also painted wooden synagogues in Germany. Not all of these were documented before their destruction, but many were. Jewish ethnographic and architectural expeditions visited many of these sites and made photos and drawings. The most important series of wall and vault paintings were inside the synagogues of Chodorow and Gwozdziec, Ukraine and Mogilev on the Dnieper, Belarus.

Even in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when Ben Zion Black was coming of age, scholars and artists were beginning to rediscover and document examples of 17th and 18th-century Jewish wall painting. In 1916 the young artist El (Eleazar) Lissitzy (later to gain great fame in Russia and abroad) was part of an expedition to document and describe some of these places.

Thanks to often prominent inscriptions with which artists signed their works, we know the names of some painters. Here are a few of the most celebrated:

Isaac Ber and his son painted the walls of Gwozdziec in the mid-17th century. Isaac son of Yehuda Leib ha-Kohen and Israel son of Mordechai Lisnickifrom Jaryczow completed this work by painting the cupola in 1729. Isaac son of Yehuda Leib ha-Kohen’s contribution is recorded in an inscription in a medallion on the left-hand side of the cupola: “Behold all this that was carried out for the glory of God and the praise of men, signed by the painter Isaac son of rebbe Yehuda Leib Kohen from the holy community of Jaryczow […] and this work of the hands [came into being in the year] 490 according to the abbreviated calendar [i.e. 1728/29].

Israel son of Mordechai Lisnicki , worked in both Gwozdziec and Chodorow. He also painted an inscription in a medallion on the right hand side of the cupola of Gwozdziec “[Executed] by a craftsman employed in holy work, signed by the painter Israel son of the worthy rebbe Mordechai […] from the holy community of Jaryczow [belonging to] the holy province of the community of Lwow.” Today, the brilliant work of the Gwozdziec synagogue has been recreated in the Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw.

We know that the paintings in Mogilev, made ca. 1740 and were the work of Chaim, son of Isaac Segal from Slutsk. We know – because he tells us. Segal signed his work in bold fashion, in a Hebrew inscription held by two rampant lions – lions that look like ancestors of the lions painted in Burlington more than 150 years later. Segal’s inscription reads (in translation): “by the artisan who is engaged in sacred craft.”

Antoher prolific painter was Eliezer Zusman Sussman, who painted many synagogues in Germany: Bechhofen, Horb, Kirchheim, Ellricj, Colmberg and Unterlimpurg. Today, the paintings of Horb survive at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. Notable is the pair of lions blowing trumpets holding an inscribed round tablet painted on the western wall. Opposite these lions on the east wall is painted fringed drapery drawn open, revealing the blank wall. The draperies painted by Ben Zion Black hark back to this tradition.

Other Jewish painters of the 18th century were Jakov Yehuda Leib, son of reb Isaac, who signed work in the synagogue of Przedborz, Poland around 1760. Leib wrote “…This [?] is the work of the hand of an old man, who spent all his days laboring on holy work: Jakov Yehuda Leib, son of reb Isaac…” Jakov Yehuda Leib is also thought to have painted some of the recently restored decoration in the vestibule of the masonry synagogue of Pinczow, Poland.

Maria and Kazimierz Piechotka, the great experts on the art and architecture of Polish synagogues, have written that:
“The limited number of polychromies of which records have survived are the vestiges of a phenomenon whose scale and extent it is difficult to estimate. All we can conclude is that the decoration of the main halls of synagogues with painted images was common throughout the whole of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and even beyond its boundaries, where Jewish emigrants form these territories had built synagogues. The interiors of both wooden and masonry-built synagogues were painted. Even on the basis of a preliminary survey of the surviving documentation that is limited in both quantity and quality, we can conclude the inscriptions played the same role in masonry-built synagogues as in wooden ones, the same repertoire of images was utilized in the same manner, and as often as not the decorations were executed by the same artists.” (Piechotka, Heaven’s Gates, p. 155).