Restoring Tomorrow

How a documentary film became a labor of love—and a rediscovery of faith.

- Aaron Wolf

ONE OF MY GREATEST ACCOMplishments began during one of the lowest points in my life. I was in my rabbi’s office at the synagogue where I’d grown up and where my beloved grandfather, Alfred Wolf, had been a senior rabbi decades earlier. I had so many cherished memories of this place. Wilshire Boulevard Temple is a landmark synagogue in the heart of Los Angeles where stars and studio moguls worshipped during Hollywood’s golden age. Martin Luther King, Jr., gave a historic address there.

I spent my childhood worshipping under the sanctuary’s soaring 10-story dome and scampering upstairs from Hebrew class to my grandfather’s office, where we’d play games or he’d enthrall me with one of his wise stories. The synagogue was showing its age by that time, and the congregation was dwindling, but I was too young to notice. I was always happy there.

I was not happy now. I was nearing 30, a professional filmmaker. A few weeks earlier, just a month before our wedding, my fiancée and I had abruptly broken up. I was crushed and bewildered. The whole reason I was back at the synagogue after years of lapsed membership was my approaching marriage. Like so many young people, I’d abandoned my faith in college. Yes, I treasured my Jewish upbringing. But God and worship seemed like relics from my childhood.

I poured out my heart to Rabbi Leder. He consoled me and tried to help me understand that, though today felt awful, it wouldn’t always feel this way.