When the Mayor of Pittsburgh Opened the Synagogue’s Doors

In 1880, the dedication began with a parade through downtown Pittsburgh. At the front flew an American flag and behind it rode Rabbi Broadi, synagogue president Morris Rosenthal, and Mayor Robert Liddell, who had been given the honor of unlocking the building with a ceremonial key made for the occasion. Congregation B’nai Israel — today known as Beth Hamedrash Hagodol-Beth Jacob — was dedicating its new synagogue at the corner of Grant Street and Third Avenue.

As the mayor opened the door, Rabbi Broadi declared in Hebrew: “Open unto me the gates of righteousness, and I will enter and praise the Lord.” Torah scrolls were carried in procession by officers of the congregation. A large crowd filled the sanctuary, including many unfamiliar with Jewish custom. One report noted that “men were considerably surprised when requested to keep on their hats during the service.” Women, following traditional practice, were seated separately in an upstairs gallery.

Speaking at the dedication, a lay leader, Josiah Cohen asked: “Where are the contemporaries of the Jews. … All are gone. The Jews survive still as a distinct nation.” He ended by celebrating American patriotism, saying to the crowd, which included many immigrants from the Russian Empire: “You can appreciate the blessings of civil and religious liberty. Born an Englishman, I cannot appreciate it as much as you, but I can appreciate it as the city of refuge described in the Bible, a refuge for all the persecuted of every land. … So live that the doctrine you profess may become better known.”

A house of prayer for all people

This was not an isolated moment. In 1862, when Pittsburgh’s Rodef Shalom dedicated its first synagogue, a newspaper reported that the crowd included “an immense audience, many of whom were not adherents of that faith, but present by invitation.” Shortly after the dedication, Rabbi Morris Raphall delivered a lecture at Lafayette Hall, engaging a Christian audience on the beauty of biblical poetry. A local newspaper praised him for finding “ground common to both.”

A generation later, in 1892, when B’nai Israel dedicated its new synagogue on Washington Street, the crowd was so large that police were stationed to manage those unable to gain entry.

A local newspaper again noted that men kept their hats on — surprising to some Christian guests — and that members of the congregation gave up their seats “to accommodate visiting Gentiles,” with “every attention being showered on the visitor.” The synagogue was “gaily decorated” and filled with music, prayers, and greenery.

In 1901, when Rodef Shalom outgrew its space and began construction on a new synagogue, three Christian churches — the First United Evangelical Protestant German Church, the Reformed Presbyterian Church, and the Second Presbyterian Church — offered their sanctuaries so the Jewish congregation could continue to worship.

Rodef Shalom ultimately held its services at the Second Presbyterian Church. When the new congregation opened on Fifth Avenue in 1907, it bore on its facade a verse, still visible today, from the Book of Isaiah: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.”

The best interfaith service yet

A year later, this sanctuary hosted a Union Thanksgiving service so well attended it was “crowded to the doors.” Spearheaded by Rabbi J. Leonard Levy, the event welcomed thirteen different Christian denominations — from Baptists to Roman Catholics to Unitarians — gathered under one roof. It was open to all Pittsburghers and each minister in attendance, regardless of creed, took an active part. Religious leaders praised it as the best interfaith service yet held in Pittsburgh and resolved to make it an annual tradition.

This spirit extended beyond B’nai Israel and Rodef Shalom. In 1901, when Beth Jacob dedicated a new synagogue in what had once been the Sixth Presbyterian Church — one of the city’s oldest Presbyterian congregations — both Jewish and Christian speakers addressed the crowd.

In 1911, Mayor William A. Magee attended the dedication of Machsikei Hadas (Defenders of the Faith), an Orthodox synagogue founded by Jewish immigrants from Galicia, a region then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In 1929, Mayor Charles Kline and other top city officials attended the dedication of Poale Zedeck, another Orthodox synagogue that continues to worship in the same building to this day.

These moments continued after World War II. In 1965, Beth El Congregation of the South Hills opened its doors to the neighboring Covenant Community Presbyterian Church, which was without a worship space while its new building was under construction. For more than four months, the Presbyterians held services and classes inside the synagogue. One local minister called it a sign of “brotherhood and neighborliness,” a reminder that mutual respect is not just symbolic — it can be practiced, quietly and generously, in daily life.

A tradition of solidarity

What these moments share is not perfection. Interfaith relations, like all human relationships, have their tensions. But they show that Pittsburgh has a deep and often overlooked tradition of civic and religious solidarity — a tradition worth remembering in a time when so much feels fragile.

Interfaith respect isn’t new to Pittsburgh. It’s part of the city’s legacy. The verse from Isaiah, visible at Rodef Shalom, is more than decoration. It’s a promise.

Austin Reid Albanese is a historian and writer based in Rochester, New York, uncovering the hidden histories of small-town Jewish communities and their broader social impact.