Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation (former)

Written by Benjamin Akhavan

The Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation is embroiled in a complicated history. Throughout the twentieth century, the congregation was housed in multiple locations, and is part of the larger fabric of Harlem’s history. It links the history of Harlem – the white community who built it in the early 1900s, and the white folk who are gentrifying it today. In between, the site tells the story of a people with several identities, both Black and Jewish. While many viewed them as a contradiction, the members of the Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Congregation considered themselves to be part of a larger historical narrative, interacting with the broader Jewish and Black communities as well as trying to cope amongst themselves.

Erecting the Building

John Dwight (August 1, 1819 – November 25, 1903), a manufacturer of bicarbonate soda (i.e. baking soda), was the patron of the building at 1 West 123rd Street. He was the founder of what is known today as the Arm & Hammer Company.

The New York Real Estate Record and Builders Guide
wrote in the November 27, 1886 issue that, “Joseph O. Brown has sold a lot on the northwest corner of Mt. Morris Avenue and One Hundred Twenty Third Street, 25×100, to John Dwight for $30,000. We hear Mr. Dwight will erect a handsome dwelling for his own occupancy on the site.”

The building, which his architect, Frank Hill Smith, designed, is a large five-story townhouse – a mansion to some – at the northwest corner of 123rd Street and Mount Morris Park West. According to the
Mount Morris Park Historic District Designation Report
, it “is a particularly fine example of the neo-Renaissance style introduced by the architects

McKim, Mead & White.” Besides the size of the building, luxury and wealth are embodied through the astronomical observatory on the roof – perhaps only one of five found on the homes of New York millionaires.

According to the architectural historian, Michael Henry Adams, Smith pulled elements from his surroundings, especially from Boston, his place of residence:

As with some contemporary Boston houses, both the ground storey and the floors above the piano nobile, are successively lower, indicative of the hierarchy, from reception rooms, to bedrooms, to top floor quarters for guests, children and servants. The Dwight house eliminated the old high exterior steps to the main floor. This was the universal ’stoop’ which Dutch colonists had wisely introduced from the Netherlands to low-lying New York as a p[r]ecaution against flooding. Instead, the Dwights’ house employed the newly fashionable ’American Basement’ plan, where one enters at, or near, the ground level into the basement storey. Ordinarily, this allowed reception rooms above to be much roomier.

Smith also pulled from sixteenth-century Spanish precedents, as seen in the wrought iron, double window guards. It is similar to the ones his friend Julius A. Schweinfurth drew in his travel drawings. Hence, the 1 W 123rd Street building is a conglomeration of ideas, both local and global.

The building is a five-story building on a corner lot, across from Marcus Garvey Park. While the upper floors are faced with brick, the ground level is clad with stone. There is a fence separating the grass surrounding the building from the sidewalk. Towards the west of the building, from the second floor and above, the building is recessed so as to allow a rounded bay to protrude to the edge of the building. There is a decorative trim above the
piano nobile
, which is slightly taller than the other floors. At the top of the building is a cornice which wraps around the west, south, and east sides of the building. At the ground level, there is a grand, circular portico which features a decorative wrought iron roundel as well as two ionic columns. The entrance is one step above the sidewalk.

In Between a Mansion and a Synagogue

Over time, the address of the building has changed. On the NYC Department Of Buildings databases, the main address for the building is 31 Mount Morris Park West, while the collateral address is 1 W. 123rd Street. However, in practice, the 1 W. 123rd Street Address is used to refer to the building because of its prominence on the façade. Over time, the building address – in response to changing street names – has changed from 31 Mount Morris Park Square and 31 Mount Morris
Park Avenue to the current addresses. This begins to illustrate the temporal, complicated, and changing nature of the building’s history.

After serving as the Dwights’ residence for a short period of time, the building became a doctor’s clinic. The doctor’s private firm failed, and the Dwights reclaimed the house because they held the mortgage. Soon after, in the mid-1930s, the building became Harlem’s Works Progress Administration (WPA) funded art school. For a brief stint, the building also was converted to a single-room-occupancy lodging house. In 1962, it became home to the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation.

Concise History of the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation

There are many names used to refer the religious group which was housed in the 1 W. 123rd Street building. It is sometimes referred to as “The Commandment Keepers’ Holy Church of the Living God,” or, “The Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation of the Living God Pillar and Ground of Truth, Inc.” “Commandment Keepers” has been used in paperwork for the sale of the building in 2007, but some say that it is a fabrication. For the purposes of this nomination, I have referred to the congregation as the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation for the sake of simplicity.

Rabbi Wentworth Arthur Matthew founded the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation in 1919, during the Harlem Renaissance and the Marcus Garvey Movement. He was influenced by Rabbi Arnold Josiah Ford, who some claim to be the first Black rabbi in America. Amongst his many accomplishments, Rabbi Ford was heavily involved with the Pan-African philosophy and movement. In fact, he was Marcus Garvey’s musical director; he composed the Universal Negro Improvement Association’s (UNIA) universal Ethiopian anthem. During that time, there were other Black Jewish congregations, but the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation, under Rabbi Matthew’s leadership, became the most famous.

There is much speculation about how Wentworth Arthur Matthew became a rabbi. Some obituaries claim that he originally was a Pentecostal minister. However, the general consensus is that Matthew taught himself Judaism.
The community claimed to be orthodox Jews, and followed Sephardic liturgy, observed Jewish holidays, practiced circumcision, and had its own kosher butcher. They referred to themselves as “Falashas,” a term used to refer to Ethiopian Jews.

Rabbi Matthew would preach on the streets, sometimes on a ladder to draw attention. He quickly built the congregation; by 1964, there were 200 members. The congregation would eventually settle in the 1 W 123rd Street building. After Rabbi Matthew’s death, controversy between different factions in the synagogue began to swell, ultimately leading to the unfortunate sale of the building, the dissolution of the congregation, and its removal from the Harlem area.

Identity of the Congregation: Race and Religion

Rabbi Matthew, the founder of the congregation, had mysterious origins. Some sources claim that he was from Lagos, Nigeria, while other records, including his own, say he was born in St. Kitts, in the West Indies. To resolve this seeming contradiction, Matthew explained that his father, an Ethiopian Jewish cobbler from Lagos, married a Christian woman. When his father passed away, his mother moved to St. Kitts.

Black Jews use the term Ethiopian to refer to the biblical Ethiopia. Ethiopian, in the bible, particularly Psalms 68:31, referred not to the current day country of Ethiopia, but rather to the entire African continent. Hence, referring to themselves as Ethiopian, in the Biblical sense, allowed congregants to partake in Pan-African nationalism. Mt. Morris Park’s renaming as Marcus Garvey Park seemed fated – Marcus Garvey was a main proponent of Pan-African nationalism – and the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation was housed next to the park at the time (1973).

The Black Jews believe that they are descendants of the Lost Tribes of Israel. By practicing Judaism, they believe that they are returning to their true religion, and thus identity. This allowed them to establish a connection between being Black and Jewish. Many Black leaders, including W. E. B. Du Bois, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King, Jr., praised Israel and in some instances drew comparisons to Black culture. Parallels are drawn between the two groups; Passover was the grandest festival celebrated by the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation. Rabbi Matthew would often compare the Israelite Exodus to that of the liberation of Black slaves in America.

In addition to the symbolic rationale for identifying as Jewish, Black Jews brought proof from Jewish literature. Rabbi Matthews often stated two sources to legitimize the seeming contradiction of Black Jews. In The Song of Songs, King Solomon writes, “I am black and comely,” and the Bible writes that Jacob had smooth skin, “as the black man invariably is.”
Black Jews also contend that they descend from the union between King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.

Black Jews began to form Harlem-based congregations in the early 1900s. Another reason for them to wholeheartedly apply themselves to Judaism was to re-find themselves. According to Howard Brotz, author of 1964’s
The Black Jews of Harlem
, after being subjugated to slavery, and the name “negro” and Christianity were imposed upon them, Black Jews sought to self-proclaim and define their identities. To reclaim their religion, the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation formulated its own hymns, while still preserving those of classic Jewish services.

While white Jews were fascinated by the Black Jewish congregations, they did not readily accept them as their brethren. Even though white Jews invited Rabbi Matthew to visit congregations in the greater New York area, (where he frequently spoke and receive handsome honoraria), they often questioned the practices of the Black Jews, seeking to understand if they kept traditional Jewish laws. While Black Jews observed many, “[t]he myriad of traditional details which, for example, an ordinary Jewish housewife would know, constitute a world the Black Jews hardly penetrate.” There were at least a dozen white Jews at Saturday morning services. While some were sympathetic, many have consistently rejected the validity of Black Jews as their brethren. Rabbi Matthew was rejected from membership in various rabbinical boards. Interestingly, Black Jews did not often mingle with other African Americans, and were sometimes scorned by them. As for white Jews, there was a tenuous relationship with Black Jews.

The Congregation in Previous Spaces

As the Commandment Keepers congregation grew, it moved through and used various spaces, but not much is known about these. In the beginning, according to Brotz, the congregation rented rooms on 135th Street for services. During the Great Depression, the congregation could no longer afford to pay the synagogue’s rent and the Commandment Keepers almost dissolved; Rabbi Matthew had to take a job as a janitor to make ends meet. Afterward, it grew slowly from the core congregants who never left the fold to its significant size of approximately two hundred in the 1950s. By 1952, it occupied the second floor of a tenement house, above a drug store, on 128th Street and Lenox Avenue, or 87 West 128th Street.
In 1962, the congregation was able to acquire the 1 W. 123rd Street Building, built for John Dwight in 1890. It cost the modest sum of $50 to buy the building from the City of New York.

Reclaiming Identity and the 1 W. 123rd Street Building

According to Rabbi Sholomo Ben Levy, when the congregation moved into the 1 W. 123rd Street building, Rabbi Matthew painted the number “one” on the front door. “In part, it represented the address, 1 West 123rd Street, but on a deeper level, it represented Rabbi Matthew’s dream that Commandment Keepers would be the first (and possibly best) of many black synagogues to follow.” The building was often referred to as the headquarters, and moreover, to people outside of the community, the 1 W. 123rd Street address became synonymous to Black Jews.

The congregation quickly adapted the building to its new function. On the ground floor was the entrance, and there was a lobby behind the original portico. To the right was a space for men to eat (since men and women sat separately), and on the northeast corner of the building was Rabbi Wentworth’s office. The women used to sit to the left of the lobby, and beyond that was the kitchen. The third floor was a reception area and another kitchen. The fourth and fifth floors were miscellaneous rooms for classes or guests who came from far away. Congregants used the roof as a social space, where they would sometimes eat. There was an elevator to scale the five floors of the building.

The largest alteration was converting the entire second floor into the main sanctuary. The congregation converted the parlor floor into one large room by removing partition walls and removing one of the stairwells to maximize space for the main sanctuary.

Besides altering the floor plan, the congregation gave identity to the building by adding decorations. There are many Stars of David as well as other Jewish symbols throughout the sanctuary. To project their identity to the outside world, the congregation did not do much to add to the exterior of the façade. It counted on text mounted on portico of the building, which proudly displayed the words,

COMMANDMENT KEEPERS ETHIOPIAN HEBREW CONG. Inc.
BETH HA – TEFILA HEADQUARTERS

The congregation also covered the decorative roundel on the front door, adorning it with a Star of David, and added stained glass windows with Jewish symbols and prayer times, with the words facing toward the exterior. Hence, it was important for the congregation to show its identity to the outside world.

The congregation even repurposed parts of the residential building for its new function. The current owners of the building found a large, curved piece of furniture on the parlor floor. The contractor wanted to throw it out, but luckily, before he did, they realized that it was a sideboard from the oval room. As the synagogue was adapted from a home, the sideboard was repurposed for its new religious use, as a Bimah – the central podium. Today, the sideboard has gone full circle, restored to its residential function.

The congregation went further to express its identity, beyond relying on the protective walls of the building. For some events, the congregation blocked off the street. Sometimes, the group went to Mount Morris/Marcus Garvey Park. For the holiday of Sukkot, the group built the traditional hut (
sukkah
) around the perimeter of the building and decorated the fence surrounding the building. The Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation used the portico of the building for the frontispiece of their golden anniversary celebration packet, further strengthening its association with the building.

It was fortuitous for the current conservation effort that the congregation chose the most affordable and least invasive method of claiming the space for themselves. The Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation simply painted over the existing oak and mahogany woodwork. The simple act of adding a layer of color changed the identity of the space for their use.

Far Reaches of the Congregation

The International Israelite Board of Rabbis, a Black organization, lists other Black Jewish congregations in St. Albans, Jamaica, Bronx, Brooklyn, New York, as well as Chicago, Illinois and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Figure 25 also illustrates the extent of the congregation’s reach. Hence, it is apparent that 1 W. 123rd Street really was – at least to Rabbi Levy – the headquarters and cradle of the Black Jews of America.

Controversy – Then and Now

Controversy began after

Rabbi Matthew passed away.

A fight between Rabbi David Dore (Rabbi Matthew’s grandson) and Rabbi Chaim White (Rabbi Matthew’s most loyal and trusted student) brewed over who should next lead the congregation.

According to the Commandment Keepers website, Rabbi Chaim White, “was one of the last rabbis ordained by Chief Rabbi Matthew prior to Chief Rabbi Matthews death in 1973. In 1975, Rabbi Chaim White zt”l succeeded Chief Rabbi Matthew zt”l as spiritual leader by majority vote from the congregation.” According to Rabbi Levy, “Rabbi Dore was only seventeen at the time, the youngest rabbi ever ordained in our community, and the news of his elevation took some by surprise. Still a student at Yeshiva High School, Rabbi Dore was looking forward to his studies at Yeshiva University.”

Rabbi Dore was routinely locked out of the 1 W. 123rd Street building in the early 1980s and was banned from the Bimah. “Other low points on the road to destruction include a sidewalk bar mitzvah in 1994 when Rabbi Dore’s son was forced to enter manhood on the curb because they were not allowed to use the sanctuary.” Law suits were filed, and encounters became more violent: one of Rabbi White’s followers was accused of pushing Rabbi Dore to the ground after services. Police were brought multiple times, opening the building and congregation to the scrutiny of the public realm. Rabbi Dore’s followers changed the locks so that he could occupy the building. Members were locked out as Rabbi White hired Robert Brady – also known as Menelik – to be the building’s security, effectively rendering a new door to the building. “As late as 2006, several people including Rabbinit White were physically assaulted on the Sabbath while trying to enter the synagogue.”

In May 2007, Julian Wormley, White’s son-in-law, sold the synagogue. Rabbi Dore claims that this was done illegally, as Wormley was not a member of the synagogue, and yet he claimed he was president of the congregation. In fact, Rabbi Dore challenges the sale because Wormley used a similar but incorrect name to refer to the synagogue – “Commandment Keepers,” as opposed to the proper name, “The Commandment Keepers Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation of the Living God Pillar and Ground of Truth, Inc.” Allegedly, Wormley plundered $575,00 worth of “religious artifacts,” including four Torahs.

Wormley sold it to a developer for $1.6 million, who in turn sold it to Darryl Pinckney and James Fenton in 2010 for $1.85 million.

Today

Darryl Pinckney, a Black novelist and essayist, and his partner, James Fenton, a British poet and writer, purchased the house when the couple decided to return to America from abroad. They have begun conservation efforts of the building, attempting to return it to its former state. They are restoring the building to its original glory, chipping away at paint, and rebuilding staircases that have been sealed for decades. However, the history they want to return to glosses over the important stage of the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation.

The building has passed from White to Black to Biracial ownership. Many suppose this to be a manifestation of gentrification, and members of the community have disputed the sale by posting signs in protest. There is a provocative balance to be struck between wealth returning to the neighborhood and the want to preserve select histories.

Conclusion – Why This Place Matters

This place matters to me because it opens a world of cultural and societal questions that still persist today. What is identity? How do we identify and relate to other cultures? How do the changes affected on a space relate to the trends in gentrification, urbanization, and community? How can a community claim a space for itself? Many people don’t know about the history of the Black Jews in New York City who have lived between two worlds.

1 W. 123rd Street is a place which holds memory of the past. It remembers John Dwight who came into Harlem and constructed a building from scratch, and Frank H. Smith who designed it while working with various architectural influences. Before the Ethiopian Hebrew Congregation, the building became more a public place, first as a clinic, and then as a WPA art school. The structure and site then became the anchor of a community, legitimizing an in-between people as their own congregation. It allowed them to claim their identity through space.

(December 2017)