Hillbrow has a small but thriving Jewish community. It is led by a gay lay minister and has a membership that includes a family of Nigerians in the process of converting to Judaism.
In time black converts will have a spiritual home in the heart of the city. One may well find a new form of Judaism evolving as African Jews continue to worship alongside the last remaining Ashkenazis of the once-thriving Hillbrow community.
But today Temple Israel stands as a period piece among the decrepit apartment blocks of this inner-city ghetto.
Outside the synagogue, on the corner of Claim and Cornell streets, people idle away the hours at spazas offering everything from popcorn to telephone calls.
Here Temple Israel stands out as a characteristic piece of modernist architecture with its square, block-like frame inset with high, rectangular windows that aspire to the heavens. There is a prominent Star of David above its front portal and Hebrew script announces the name of the congregation.
It was the morning of Passover when I drove by to see how the 74-year-old synagogue is weathering the rising tide of human influx into the city.
The front door was open and the place was empty, ready for the festival morning service.
Prayer shawls hung from a railing in the foyer, where I picked up the community’s Passover newsletter which, this year, came with a message of support from the synagogue’s chairperson, Reeva Forman.
There were also religious reflection by a rabbi from New Jersey, some Jewish jokes and recipes for Passover delicacies.
The temple’s interior is voluminous and angular, betraying its Art Deco roots and, in places, showing signs of decay.
Nothing in Temple Israel has been altered for decades. It is one of the last functioning synagogues in the inner city.
Its architecture, however, is not its crowning feature — its congregants are. Forman notes that the congregation is at maximum 50 people and is made up of Jews who live in the Hillbrow and Berea area.
Some are poor and some are aged. Those unable to earn a living are supported by Jewish organisations such as the Jewish Helping Hand (called the Chevra Kadisha) and the Union of Jewish Women.
But it is other, unknown Jews of Hillbrow, who live in obscurity, that the community is hoping to reach out to to bolster its numbers.
“Many bought flats they cannot afford to sell or replace,” Forman says.
“Many are terrified to even move outside their doors. Not because of a danger in the streets but because of a shyness to come into contact with the society.
“There are many different stories.”
The community belongs to the wider Progressive Jewish denomination that is distinguishable from the Orthodox world community in various ways.
Progressive Judaism conducts parts of its service in English and, according to lay minister David Bilchitz: “Women are completely equal to men. Women are called up to read from the Torah and women can lead the services.
“This egalitarianism includes there being no discrimination against gay and lesbian people.
“It is a Judaism,” says Bilchitz, “which is essentially open to the world.”
Unlike their orthodox counterparts, Progressive Jews allow women to sing in public, in front of men, and Temple Israel is serviced by what Bilchitz calls “a one-woman choir” — veteran cantor Ruth Levison, who is in her 80s.