Before entering, we pause awhile to cast our eyes about us. Were we standing on Mount Moriah, of deathless memory, with the gorgeous temple of Solomon before us, and with the sacred scenery of Jerusalem and her environments about us, even such scenes could not have awed us more than those which fascinate our heart and mind on the temple-mount of Cordova, the brightest gem in the proud diadem of fair Andalusia.
At the foot of the mount glides the silvery Guadalquivir. The blushing sun is sinking behind the azure hills, and houses and synagogues and foliage and fountain and river, all are crimson tinted, while the fleecy cloudlets, that float in his radiant tracks, are resplendent with colors of purple and violet and gold and red. The evening star sparkles in the rosy sky so benignly, as if it were the eye of God, pleased at seeing His "chosen people" hasten to prostrate themselves before His footstool. The golden glimmering vapors, that rise from beneath the illumined horizon into infinite space, seem to vault over the Synagogue, as if bestowing celestial Sabbath blessing over its worshipers. All nature around us inspires to worship. The nightingales have begun their evening hymns, and the air is loud with the soft melting notes of the skylarks, who sing their sweet "Good Night" to the sunken sun. Our soul, too, is filled with a yearning to commune with God, and so we turn toward the synagogue.
Like the mezquita (mosque) its exterior facade is plain and unnoteworthy. We enter the high and spacious vestibule, and our eye is dazzled with all the magnificence, with the harmonious blending of colors, with the costly, but chaste ornamentations. The cupola above admits a free circulation of air, bringing the sweet fragrance of the surrounding gardens. On the one side is heard the refreshing sound of the flowing waters within the reservoirs for ablution, and on the other side the soft splash from the fountain jets in the garden.
Within the synagogue proper, clusters of delicate columns of various marbles and of costly woods, support double galleries, one above the other, with lattice work in front, that the black-eyed and raven-locked and comely-featured Hebrew women may not draw the mind of the worshipers beneath from their devotions. The galleries are empty now. The Hebrew women do not attend the service of the Sabbath Eve. They are at home awaiting the return of their husbands, fathers, brothers. All day long have they been busy in the preparation for the Sabbath. The house has been put in order. The choicest that means would allow and the market afford has been secured and prepared for the festive Sabbath meal. Upon the table, decked with snow white linens, and with the tempting dishes, burn the lights in the heavy silver candlesticks, and the traditional seven-armed Sabbath lamp, suspended from the center of the ceiling, having been lighted with Sabbath benedictions by the queen of the house, sheds a hallowed light over mother, wife and daughter, who are attired in their neatest, and whose countenances are flushed from the day's busy task, and whose eyes beam, and whose hearts beat with joyous expectations.
But we have strayed from the description of the galleries of the synagogue to the women in their homes. What wonder the Spanish Jews had need of their latticed railings!
The interspaces between the graceful horseshoe arches and the ovals in the ceiling are delicately pencilled with brilliant colors, and the walls are filled with arabesques interwreathing appropriate Hebrew texts.
The wall to the east, the direction towards Jerusalem, holds the Haichal, the shrine, in which is kept the Thora, the parchment scrolls of the Pentateuch.
The shrine is canopied by a wondrously designed shell-shaped covering, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, ivory and silver. A curtain of silk and woven gold, and decorated with gems of chrysolite and emeralds and sapphires, serves as a screen to this "Holy of Holies." Over this shell-shaped canopy is an illuminated window of artistic workmanship, inscribed in brilliant colors with the words, "Yehi Or," "Let there be light." The moon, queen of the night, rides in the cloudless sky, and she sends her peerless light through this double-triangled window, and the effect is most sublime.
Suspended from the ceiling, and directly in front of the curtain is the Ne'er Tamid the "Perpetual Lamp," famous for its wondrous beauty and for its priceless value, the gift of the mother of Chasdai ben Isaac, and its mellow light sends a hallowing influence over the congregants. Beneath it are the pyramidal steps, from which the descendants of the High-Priest Aaron bestow, on the great holidays, the priestly blessings upon the congregation. To the right and left of these stand the M'noroth, the high seven-armed candelabra, a faithful copy of the Biblical design[10].
In front of the steps stands the throne-like chair, in which is seated Chasdai ben Isaac, the Nasi, secular head of all European Jews, the Resh Kallah, President of the Academy for the Talmudical Sciences at Pumbadita in Babylonia, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and of Commerce, and of Finance to the Caliph Abderrahman III.