From the ashes of a Pasadena synagogue, a hidden discovery

Night falls on the Pasadena Temple.

The community braced for strong winds; Hebrew school had been canceled earlier. But no one was prepared for a fire that would break out and burn their synagogue to the ground.

Laurence Harris and his wife, longtime cantor Ruth, rushed to the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center as embers began to rain down, trying to rescue who they could. They saved 13 Bentola before fleeing.

When Harris returned the next day, the fire was still smoldering as he approached. The synagogue's roof had collapsed and most of its walls were destroyed. Burnt citrus tree fruit stuck to branches.

But in the banquet hall, one wall still stood.

Harris climbed up the bricks and nails to see this: a mural etched into the wall, spanning the entire length of it. For decades it was hidden by a brick wall. Semitic men and women walking in the desert with animals. Some people play musical instruments. In the center is a lone palm tree - a biblical symbol of victory. Although the image is faint, it sparkles in the sunlight.

An etched mural destroyed in the Eaton Fire stands alone at the Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center. (Wally Scully/Los Angeles Times)

(Wally Scully/Los Angeles Times)

As word of the mural's discovery spread, some members believed the image partly depicted the Jewish people's 40 years of wandering in the desert as a test of their faith in God. Making this discovery now, as communities face new displacements, feels profound.

“I don’t know what happened, but the fire burned away the stucco, burned away the slate, and the mural was unscathed,” Harris said. “There’s nothing left of the whole (area) except for that mural.”

“I think it’s trying to teach us a lesson,” member Monica Levine said of the mural and what she sees as a sign of overcoming hardship.

The synagogue served the Pasadena area for more than 100 years and moved to Altadena Avenue in 1941, taking over a former warehouse space. Kristine Galloway, a long-time member with a background in archaeology, believes the mural dates to the 1920s and may have been transferred to the wall through a tapestry. But its origins remain a mystery. So far, no member has been able to recall its history.

"How on earth could this have survived?" Galloway, 48, said in disbelief. "This scene is so hopeful and joyful ... and it's right in the middle of all this ashes."

Galloway, a professor of Hebrew history, and others believe the depictions are supposed to recall scenes from the Bible, such as Exodus, but are unsure what is being shown.

The Pasadena Jewish Temple and Center was destroyed in the Eaton Fire.

(Josh Edelson/AFP via Getty Images)

Galloway has considered the Pasadena Temple her second home since moving to the area from the East Coast in 2011. Her children grew up there. Her oldest son was one of the last people left in the space after playing basketball there Monday night before the fire, and her youngest son was supposed to have a bar mitzvah celebration there later this year.

The loss of the synagogue weighed heavily on Galloway and her family. But the discovery of the mural provided solace during one of the community's darkest periods.

“It feels like a phoenix rising from the ashes,” she said.

The Eaton Fire destroyed thousands of structures and burned more than 14,000 acres in Pasadena and Altadena. Not far from the Jewish Center, some of the earliest footage from the fire showed the agonizing escape of residents of a nursing home and a McDonald's destroyed and damaged by the fire.

At least 20 members lost their homes, including a temple rabbi who lived just minutes away.

Rabbi Joshua Levine Grater evacuated when the Eaton fire broke out. When he drove back to the area the next day, he saw much of the area untouched by the fire and believed his home would be safe, too. Then he found his house destroyed — one of five burned in his neighborhood.

"This is tragic," he said. “It’s a double whammy for us to lose our home of 22 years and the synagogue we loved equally.”

In the long term, communities are still deciding where their services will be held. In the days after the fire, a local Catholic high school made space available for clergy. The rabbi addressed the members:

"Our community is shattered spiritually and physically. It's okay not to be okay."

Glatt, who currently lives in downtown Los Angeles, has not yet seen the mural. But he believes its discovery embodies Jewish ideology.

"We are people of history. We know that in Jerusalem and the Land of Israel you will find murals upon murals and stones upon stones," said Grater, 54. "The fact that it's a hidden mural...it's a very Jewish idea."

The temple's kindergarten burned down and the synagogue, which once held 1,000 people, disappeared. Thousands of books were also lost.

Days after the fire, Amy Whitman Richardson took her daughter Quinn to see what was left. Whitman Richardson, 45, grew up at the temple and is a third-generation member of a family of devotees. Last year, at her daughter's bar mitzvah, she reflected on her own celebrations from years ago and imagined what it would be like to see her daughter's future children there in the years to come.

"I have been in this temple since I was born, and so have my children," she said, surveying the wreckage. "I haven't processed it yet."

The sunlight begins to dim, casting shadows across the space. But the mural remains lit. Mother and daughter walked arm in arm toward the spectacle.

Whitman Richardson watched this scene in awe.

"It's a small miracle."