NEW YORK --
The Beth Hamedrash Hagodol synagogue is one of New York City's most treasured temples _ a Lower East Side landmark that has served as a house of worship for Jews dating back to the 1800s.
But the future of the 154-year-old building is in doubt.
Its walls are cracking. Its ceiling is crumbling. Prayer books are rotting.
Sensing a chance to profit, developers have begun to circle the building, offering millions of dollars to turn part of the temple into condos.
Resisting such deals has become harder and harder for those charged with running fading temples amid New York's supercharged real estate market. Temples with dwindling congregations forced to maintain large, aging buildings are faced with this difficult decision: to sell or not to sell.
"Taking the money is very tempting," said Marc Angel, a senior rabbi at Shearith Israel, the oldest Jewish congregation in North America _ founded in 1654. "But the guiding rule is don't give up on a synagogue. If you do, it should be given up to a good cause. It shouldn't be turned into apartments or a movie theater. But in reality, it's difficult for communities to always follow that standard."
In the case of Beth Hamedrash Hagodol, Rabbi Mendel Greenbaum has shunned the developers, instead hoping to raise nearly $3.5 million to restore the synagogue. Developers have offered to turn the main part of the building into condos while restoring a sanctuary in the basement.
"I'll hang on until the Meshiach comes," Greenbaum says emphatically.
Over the years, New York synagogues have been forsaken as demographics shift, only to be revived as apartments, mosques, churches and a Buddhist temple.
On the Upper West Side, the rundown Temple B'nai Israel was demolished recently to make way for an apartment building.
In the East Village, three temples were converted into residential space _ the Star of David or Hebrew inscriptions still visible on their facades. One of those is the Eighth Street Synagogue that Clyde Patterson, a local artist and preservationist, fought unsuccessfully to save in 1996.
"Each one of these cycles just wipes out these synagogues and buildings of importance," he said.
Two temples in Brooklyn were sold in the last three years. One is now a mosque, and the other was flattened to make way for a yeshiva that was never built. Members of their congregations, including one of the rabbis, have tried to halt the sales, said real estate lawyer Brian Burstin, who represented them.
Another Brooklyn temple is being sold for $1.8 million, according to Burstin, who is involved in that case, where the rabbi and a few of his supporters are pushing the sale against member wishes.
"They are land grabs," he said. "In the olden days, the synagogues would close because the neighborhoods would change. The synagogues would be sold at a nominal price because there was just no value. Now, they are transferred for significant sums of money."
Burstin said the synagogues belong to the religious corporations that founded them, but they fall under the control of the rabbis or officers once the original congregations die off.
Temple sales must also be approved by state officials and the courts, and the money has to be used for the congregation if it's going to continue or go to a charity.
But Burstin said that in reality, there is really very little oversight once the sale closes.
Author Oscar Israelowitz _ an architect by training _ has chronicled the fate of hundreds of temples in his books: "Synagogues of New York City" and "Guide to Jewish New York City."
The 55-year-old Israelowitz has seen dozens disappear over his lifetime, witnessing their re-emergence as something other than a synagogue.