In Prague I visited more synagogues in a month than I had in the previous twenty-five years. I had no dress, no head covering, and, frankly, no faith. Then I went to the Pinkas Synagogue, the designated Holocaust memorial site. It is a small, intimate space, dimly lit. Inscribed on every inch of wall and ceiling are the names and villages and dates of Czech Jews who perished in the war.
Visitors circle slowly, silently.
Still these drawings in the synagogue are joyful, optimistic, colorful, innocent. For a moment you might think you are at any elementary school anywhere. The Moorish splendor of the Spanish Synagogue offered some comfort. It is gorgeous, with every cupola, every archway, every surface hand painted in rich reds, blues, and golds. Such abundance might have been overwhelming, but I found this synagogue's perfect floor to ceiling geometric symmetry somehow calming.