TORONTO — On a crisp Thursday morning, a chorus of male voices reciting the Shema fills the domed sanctuary of the First Russian Congregation of Rodfei Sholem Anshei Kiev, a.k.a., the Kiever Shul. The service progresses under the watch of two red-eyed lions perched atop the elaborately carved Aron Kodesh.
The Kiever has been a Kensington Market landmark since 1927, but attendance declined significantly when the epicentre of Jewish life shifted from the area to the Bathurst Street corridor in the ’50s and ’60s.
For decades, the Kiever was only used on Shabbat and holidays. But a year and a half ago, it began co-ordinating mid-week services with Congregation Shaarei Tzedec, known as the Markham Street Shul, and that led to the Kiever’s resumption of Thursday-morning services after a 40-year hiatus.
This spirit of co-operation heralds a new era for these two historic shuls. They were originally one congregation, but a family dispute split the group more than 100 years ago.
David Pinkus, 91, a lifelong member of the Kiever, heard the story as a youngster. He says Yehuda Leib Bossin, the patriarch of the Bossin family, left the Shaarei Tzedec around 1911 after a bitter dispute with his son, Zussy, an executive member of the shul. They quarrelled over burial rites for Bossin’s wife. She ended up interred in the “paupers section” of the Roselawn Cemetery.
A year or so later, Bossin and his younger son, Mottel, became founding members of the Kiever, along with Pinkus’ parents, Izzie and Mollie. “What really surprised me was to see the father and the son [Zussy] buried next to each other in the Shaarei Tzedec section of the cemetery on Roselawn Avenue,” says Pinkus. “They healed their wounds around 1926.”
Ironically, it took much longer for the Kiever and Markham shuls to make amends, say some of their younger affiliates.
“It took 100 years, but we can officially declare that the fight is over,” laughs Jeff Phillips, a regular at the Markham Street Shul for more than 30 years.
Menashe Solomon, the second cantor at the Kiever, says nobody knew the details of the rift, but he understood that he was not to go to the Markham Street Shul.
“For 100 years, the members of each congregation refused to set foot in each other’s buildings.”
Turns out the notion of a century-long feud between the shuls is a Jewish urban myth. Pinkus says the animosity between them dissipated when the Bossins reconciled, but the congregations never reunited.
He surmises that some younger congregants may have wrongly concluded that the shuls’ permanent division was rooted in some long-standing acrimony.
Pinkus points out that at that time, all the synagogues “operated as separate entities” for practical reasons. “They didn’t have much to do with each other, because they didn’t want to lose members. They needed the membership for financial support.”
Today, however, the interdependence between the older downtown shuls is a pragmatic way to ensure their survival, says Rabbi Yossi Holtzberg, de facto spiritual leader of Shaarei Tzedec.
He laments that getting a weekday minyan has become increasingly challenging, and the problem has worsened with the recent deaths of some older Markham Street Shul members. “The Orthodox community downtown is struggling. There’s a lot of competition. You have the Minsker, the [First] Narayever, the Annex Shul, Makom, JUMP [Jewish Urban Meeting Place] and the minyan at the [Miles Nadal] JCC.”
The collaboration between the Kiever and the Markham Street shuls has benefited both, says Rabbi Holtzberg. “It’s working beautifully. We’re sharing the same cake.”
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The gravestones of Leib and Zussy Bossin in Roselawn Cemetery
He credits Arie Ben-Dor, a young entrepreneur and community organizer, with bringing the congregations together. “He was the guy who pushed it. He saw that the Kiever was empty six days a week.”
Ben-Dor acknowledges his role in bolstering attendance at the shuls. He was also key in getting the Kiever to host the Kensington Torah Circle (KTC), a study group that meets Monday evenings. He says KTC draws from the older Orthodox congregations, including the Minsker, along with Makom, the Annex Shul and JUMP.
The merging of the minyans for mid-week services is a serendipitous outcome of what was supposed to be a one-time event, says Ben-Dor. In December 2013, a client of his from Boston who was staying downtown wanted to attend a morning service on Rosh Chodesh and Chanukah. Ben-Dor asked Solomon if the service could be held at the Kiever, and Rabbi Holtzberg helped recruit a minyan.
It went so well that Thursday-morning services at the Kiever continued and the Monday-morning minyan at the Markham Street Shul was strengthened, recalls Ben-Dor. “Yossi [Rabbi Holtzberg] and Menashe [Solomon] are very well respected for their hard work, commitment and drive. And that draws people.”
Rabbi Holtzberg, modest by nature, contends the kiddush is a major attraction. “To bring people to a minyan downtown, you have to serve food. People are expecting it.”
Indeed, back at the Kiever on this cool Thursday morning, the service is followed by a sumptuous breakfast of herring, gefilte fish, fried eggs, kippers, baked beans, home fries, bagels, cream cheese, lox and pancakes.
A Markham Street Shul regular, who prefers to be known as Chaim ben Ze’ev, has been looking after the kiddush to free up Solomon. “Menashe was running up and down the stairs, back and forth between the sanctuary and kitchen. I told him, ‘Give me a key and I’ll come in at six in the morning to prepare breakfast.’ ”
The mood is upbeat as the men fress and shmooze. “A real camaraderie has developed between all of us,” says Solomon. “It’s a mechayeh.”
After benching, a couple of people walk over to Nassau Street to visit Pinkus. The retired engineer has been president of the Kiever for 35 years. He attributes his commitment to his historic family ties and a tendency to be community-minded.
The synagogue was briefly put up for sale in the 1960s, says Pinkus, noting that some members who’d moved away wanted to sell the building. In the end, the membership voted to maintain the downtown congregation. In 1980, support from UJA Federation of Greater Toronto and the Ontario government provided seed money for a partial renovation, but Pinkus stresses that the bulk of the work – ongoing for 34 years – has been funded by the congregation.
He has overseen all of the renovations. He says his involvement in other local community groups helped him realize the importance of conserving older buildings.
“Keeping the synagogue going was a way of preserving the historical roots of Toronto’s Jewish community for future generations. I felt they could relate better to a structure than a plaque.”
The Markham Street Shul has a similar history. The synagogue has been housed in a semi-detached three-storey corner home on Markham and Ulster streets since 1937.
Dr. Joe Greenberg, 92, took over as president of the board when the shul was on the verge of bankruptcy in the mid-1960s.
“We considered selling it,” he recounts. “My brother Mutt said, ‘I don’t go to synagogue often, but when I do go I want it to be this one.’ I said, ‘OK. If that’s what you want, that’s the way it’s going to be.’ He’s been our biggest contributor.”
Over the years, Greenberg has spearheaded fundraising for renovations and ongoing maintenance. Pinkus calls him “the saviour of the Shaarei Tzedec.”
Greenberg stayed downtown like Pinkus, which, at the time, was unusual for a man with a young family. He set up his medical practice and raised four children – who all went to day school – a block from the shul.
Greenberg also has a deep family connection there. His parents, Aaron and Sima, joined the Shaarei Tzedec shortly after their arrival from Russia in 1920. “I have been going there since I was three years old. I could never stand to let the place go. I could not imagine my life without it.”
