Shul on the Beach: Shades of Sand Word from: Sipai

Between the beaches of Santa Monica and Marina Delrey in Los Angeles, there is a synagogue on the boardwalk of Venice that has began talking about renovations and membership drives. Ahvat Shalom its Hebrew name, it is commonly known by the title scripted on the blue awning that welcomes its congregants: Shul on the Beach. Outside its wooden doors are tourists with cameras strapped around their necks, Rastafarians with orange-black knitted caps who sell boxes of incense at discounted prices, and benches crammed with clans of homeless men and women who mark their territory with filled-to-the-brim black plastic bags.

I visited the synagogue for the first time last summer where, on the Shabbath before my older brother's wedding, my family gathered for pre-wedding celebrations. As the layman chazzan's voice quieted during the amida, the humming bustle of outside lingered through the shul and the scent of incense slid in between the congregants. When the door creaked open for a latecomer the sounds of rushing waves and buzzing crowds crept toward the shuckling congregants. The young rabbi began his speech by calling out one of the congregant's first name and asking the member to shut the doors. Even with the doors shut though, the beach's light morning summer air settled among the daveners.


After shacharit we stepped back onto the boardwalk and crossed path with Harry Perry, the famous turban-wearing, guitar-playing, roller-skating street performer. As quickly as we disappeared from the sidewalk while entering the shul, we blended into the rushing crowds - just as strangers appeared and disappeared into the tall red-brick building, a half-way home for those recovering from substance abuse, to the left of the shul and to the two-floored adult sex shop to the right of the shul.

In recent visits back to Venice, the shul appeared to coexist more easily in its environment, a semblance of either acculturation to my generation's information overload or an ever-increasing eye glasses prescription. In my most recent visit, the winter sun seemed to equally bare down on the shul as on the rest of the commercial and residential buildings. It was a weekday and a young woman with a long floral skirt suddenly stepped outside, turned around to place the key in the front door and lock the doors. She turned her head back toward the horizon, and as she began wading through the crowd, she quickly glanced at the shimmering blue.

*Pictures taken by Jake Marmer.