I received some wonderful pictures of the Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue in Alexandria from my friend Harry Tzalas. I added a description of the site from the Jewish Press.You may wonder what I was doing in Alexandria on the Mediterranean shore, a city teeming with almost as many Muslims, as there are Jews in Israel. Actually, I was an accidental or incidental tourist for a few days, joining my husband who was doing some consultancy work there. We stayed first at the Metropole, a pleasant period hotel downtown, near the seafront. It had an old-fashioned cage-like elevator with an intricate parquet floor and high-ceilinged rooms with gilt moldings.
Unfamiliar outdoor sounds were the rumbling of the trolley cars and the ubiquitous honking of car horns. It was close to the market place where live chickens and furry black-and-white rabbits were on sale - and not as pets. Market vendors squatted on rickety crates in the grime, selling mangoes and other merchandise. It was a picturesque scene, bordering on the squalid. There were juice bars festooned with piles of sugar cane, and a drink vendor circulated with glasses and urn strapped to his chest. Conscientious storekeepers swilled water onto the pavements, converting solid dirt into rivulets of liquid dirt.On Friday our first stop was the Eliyahu HaNavi synagogue-the only surviving one. The Jewish community of Alexandria was of ancient origin and existed for almost 2,000 years. The thriving community started after Alexander the Great conquered Judea in 334CE and transported many Jews to his new city. So magnificent was the synagogue there, that the rabbis said of it, "He who has not seen it, has not seen the glory of Israel" (Talmud Sukkah 51b). Speaking of grandeur, in a vast edifice of the Hellenistic period, the officers of the Alexandrine congregation would wave a flag to signal congregants on distant benches when to respond.
A pleasant couple, Victor and Denise Balassiano, graciously guided us during our visit. When Victor attended the Jewish day school on the synagogue campus, his class numbered 50 children. It closed in 1970, and now the 66 year-old Victor says that he and Denise nee Messeca are among the last half-dozen Jews left in Egypt. Though their two daughters are now in the United States, and their son in Jerusalem, Victor still wishes to serve "the community," as he has done in various positions for 36 years. Besides this forlorn remnant of a once-proud congregation, there are a few intermarried Jews who sometimes require community services. The Israeli consulate assists by importing a minyan for Yom Kippur and procuring kosher items for festivals, and the Joint also helps them.
The synagogue on Nabi Daniel Street is protected by Egyptian guards. It is an imposing, buff-colored, stone building with rose marble pillars, arched stained glass windows, wrought iron chandeliers and a lofty women's gallery. The prevailing impression is one of size and emptiness. I was disturbed when a couple of dogs from outside entered and began circling the aisles. Built almost 130 years ago, after the Napoleonic invasion, the synagogue complex includes edifices that were formerly the Jewish school, the rabbinate offices incorporating a mikveh, the old age home and other buildings, which are now rented out to Egyptians. Palm and shade trees adorn its manicured grounds within a wrought iron fence. A sukkah frame stands there too.Sephardic names of founders and officers appear on a wall plaque: Rabbi Shlomo Hazzan, Yosef Hakkim, Shlomo Laniado. A silver ner tamid adorns a graceful ark of light gray marble, thronged by a row of silver lanterns. On this site are 50 Torah Scrolls, many of them collected from other defunct synagogues. The Egyptian government watches over them jealously, and all efforts to bring them to Israel have, so far, failed.
