A Vision in the Heart of Old Riga
When Wilhelm Neumann, a prominent German architect, was entrusted with the task of designing a synagogue on Peitavas Street, he envisioned more than a house of prayer. Completed in 1905, the Peitav Synagogue was shaped by the spirit of Riga’s Art Nouveau golden age, with lotus leaves, palm fronds, and ornamental lines adorning its walls. At the time, building a synagogue in Czarist Russia required navigating countless regulations, and its location in the Old Town was unusual. Yet the decision to place it close to markets and shops reflected the everyday rhythm of Jewish life. Here, merchants and artisans could step away from their stalls and pray, grounding commerce in spirituality. The building’s striking blend of architectural styles embodied not only aesthetic innovation but also resilience, as if its very design anticipated the challenges to come.

The Only One Left Standing
When Nazi forces entered Riga in 1941, most synagogues were burned, and Jewish life in the city faced annihilation. The Peitav Synagogue was spared—not through chance, but because its location in the tightly built Old Town made fire a danger to surrounding structures. This accidental survival turned the building into a silent witness to the destruction of the Jewish community, with nearly 100,000 Latvian Jews murdered during the Holocaust. During the war years, the synagogue was stripped of its sanctity and used as a warehouse, its sacred silence broken by the profane sound of crates and supplies. Yet the very walls endured. Inside, an inscription from the Psalms appeared above the altar: “Blessed art You the good, for You did not allow teeth to tear me.” It became a haunting echo of survival amid unspeakable loss.

Life Under Soviet Rule
The postwar decades brought new challenges. Under Soviet authority, religion was heavily restricted, and Jewish institutions were viewed with suspicion. Yet, remarkably, the Peitav Synagogue remained open—one of the very few functioning synagogues in the entire Soviet Union. This survival was not without compromise. Festivities had to be subdued, holidays quietly integrated into permitted practices, and congregants learned to live under the watchful eyes of the authorities. Anecdotes recall men sharing vodka outside after prayers, blending old traditions with new realities. Inside, the brown-and-yellow pews, the splintery green door, and the faded books on the shelves stood as symbols of continuity. For Riga’s shrinking Jewish community, the synagogue became not only a place of prayer but also an anchor of identity, proof that despite decades of suppression, their faith and heritage would not be erased.

Restoration and Renewal
The 1990s brought Latvia’s independence, but also instability for the Peitav Synagogue. Twice—first in 1995 and then in 1998—the building was bombed, shaking the community yet again. But resilience prevailed. With support from the Latvian state and the European Union, a thorough restoration was completed in 2009, led by architect Karl Seuberlich. The rededication ceremony gathered Latvian leaders, including the president and prime minister, alongside international guests, underscoring the synagogue’s status as a cultural and national treasure. Today, the interior glows with renewed beauty, its Art Nouveau flourishes lovingly preserved, and its sanctuary once again filled with the songs of prayer. What might have remained a scar of the past has been reborn into a vibrant symbol of shared responsibility for heritage, bridging Jewish memory with Latvian cultural pride.

A Community in Motion
Beyond the bricks and ornament, the Peitav Synagogue remains a place where lives unfold. Visitors today may encounter Rabbi Mordechai Glazman, who has served since 2004, or listen to the cantor’s operatic voice filling the hall on Shabbat. The women’s gallery, separated by tradition, echoes with whispers of mothers and daughters observing the service, while children peer curiously behind curtains. After prayers, Kiddush is celebrated around simple tables, with matzo bread, wine, and even laughter—rituals of resilience as much as of faith. In summer, tour groups from Israel and the United States mingle with locals, transforming the synagogue into a crossroads of cultures. Yet at its heart, it is still Riga’s Jewish families who keep the flame alive, reminding the city that heritage is not static but carried by people, voices, and everyday rituals.

Symbol of Continuity
The Peitav Synagogue is more than just Riga’s last surviving synagogue; it is a living chronicle of endurance. From its ambitious beginnings in 1905, through war, repression, and near destruction, it has remained steadfast, embodying both survival and renewal. Its Art Nouveau façade tells of Riga’s architectural brilliance, while its stories whisper of tragedy and resilience. Today, as the synagogue thrives once more, it stands not only as a monument to a community’s history but also as a beacon for future generations. In its walls resonate the voices of the past and the promise of continuity, making Peitav Synagogue an indelible part of Latvia’s cultural canon and Riga’s living soul.