Two or three times a day I walk on the moor near my home in Salford where the Chartists held their famous meeting of 1838. Here the Chartists would sit and discuss the issues of the day and also come up with solutions.

It is this moor that has become my new synagogue, a place I have gone to as often as possible since the lockdown I imposed upon myself at the end of February, when I saw with concern the news coming out of China and the early precautionary measures being taken in the State of Israel, where Purim parades were already being banned in early March.

The moor doesn't fail to inspire – by which I mean that I sense the breath of G-d whenever I walk there. Despite mostly encountering dogs off leashes, some of them aggressive (as are their owners half the time), as well as non-adherence to social distancing rules, on these walks I manage to concentrate on the important in life and prepare myself for the day and week ahead.

I am convinced that the history of Kersal Moor adds to the religious flavour with which it is imbued. And this feeling has been enhanced by the number of Jewish men who have come to pray there in lockdown. One Shabbat morning, I came across a dialogue in between trees, where a passionate discussion was being held about cutting them down. This dialogue, interspersed with much Hebrew and Aramaic, stemmed from the Babylonian Talmud of around 500 CE. I stopped, intrigued to listen, and they didn't seem to mind – in fact even enjoyed the audience – at least I didn't jump or bark at them, and certainly kept my distance, as if we were in Shul itself.

There are many Christians who mistakenly think that we Jews hang onto the Temple and synagogue as the be all and end all of worship. Something of a row has broken out in the Church of England during lockdown over whether church buildings should be open or closed and I recently read one incorrect assertion that Anglicans should not be so precious about their buildings, because this is simply an Old Testament theology that stands in contrast to the 'correct' New Testament theology, in which the sacred is now people, not buildings. 

First, I resent Jews being dragged into a row among Anglicans about their buildings, but more importantly, I feel the need to correct such mistaken comparisons between Old Testament i.e. Jewish theology and New Testament i.e. Christian theology, because they are a misrepresentation of what we Jews actually believe about synagogue.

The Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE, but was always the 'home' of our prayers, with many examples of artefacts in our own homes and in our prayers, pointing that way. And we do still regard the Temple as our centre and spiritual home. But that doesn't mean that we cannot, at the same time, appreciate our surroundings in our own backyards, including moors, synagogues and – yes - even churches, for centuries to come. Nor does it mean that the sacred is confined only to the synagogue.

In fact, the most spiritual synagogue I've ever experienced was at Chief Rabbi Shear Yashuv Cohen's own shul inside a basement in Haifa. This tiny space wouldn't pass health and safety regulations in the UK, but had its own special atmosphere, largely because of the rabbi himself and his devoted congregation. The women were separated by a well-used piece of netting, and the room itself was tiny - but the singing magnificent, as well as his sermon. It wasn't the nearest shul to where I lived, but definitely the most welcoming, even if the prayer books were in Hebrew with parallel Russian, unlike the English to which I was used!

Then there was also the school-room in the centre of Jerusalem where I gave a sermon in Hebrew in June 2007, surrounded by guinea pigs, a hamster and parrots. During the week the 'synagogue' functioned as a school for children, but on Friday nights and Saturdays, i.e. the Shabbat, it became 'a place of meeting' for religious services and sermons, occasionally with guest speakers like myself giving the latter.

During this unprecedented lockdown, no Jew I know has thought twice about attending Shul, except for one or two very brave people on relevant occasions, standing distances apart according to government guidelines and solely for the purpose of Zooming services and learning sessions to us, but never on a Shabbat or festival itself of course. Zoom meetings among members of the kehillah (i.e. the congregation) have also been conducted with great success from homes and gardens.

Shabbat, unlike the Anglican Sunday, is not full of technological gimmicks, because Shabbat, as it states in the Bible, is actually a 'day of rest', and therefore, we believe, not open to electronic wizardry of any kind. But what have we actually experienced in the Jewish community since early Purim – from Purim to Shavuot (Pentecost), in other words?

At Pesach, we ended the Seder service (not conducted in the synagogue but instead around the kitchen table) at around 3am in the morning with the words 'Next Year in Jerusalem and may the Temple be Rebuilt'.

Every day during the seven weeks leading up to the glorious harvest festival of Shavuot, when we re-live the receiving of the Torah from the hands of G-d at the small bush called 'Sinai', and narrate the parallel story of Ruth the Moabite, we counted the Omer and did what our ancestors did 2,000 years ago – we turned our homes into synagogues, our kitchens into the sanctuary and our kitchen tables into the altar.

This was the culmination of the rabbinic genius of 2,000 years ago, started I should say some centuries earlier, in what is known as 'The Second Temple ['Home'] Period' – to interpret that what G-d gave us at Sinai, after freeing us from slavery in Egypt, was the injunction to 'learn' – that is to 'study and to argue' in order to become better human beings and to serve G-d through deeds of loving kindness.

And as I said, over this three-month period from Purim to Shavuot, we have received learning sessions zoomed from Shul, often on a daily basis - except for Shabbat of course, when many of us go for walks on the moor instead.

Two weeks ago, in fact, all living Chief Rabbis of Israel past and present, in communion with those from Russia, South Africa, the UK and many more, came together from their book-lined homes - often tiny apartments - all over the world in a union never experienced before in the Jewish community.  In a joint Zoom service coordinated from outside the remains of our Temple at the Kotel, they asked us both individually and en masse to love our neighbours as ourselves and to live, more than ever at this moment, the lessons of Sinai.

And in addition, for 24 hours, starting from 6.00am on the Wednesday before Shavuot, 96 male and female teachers from Israel, assisted by relevant screen-shared texts, spoke for half an hour each in rapid Hebrew on aspects of the Shavuot festival in order to sustain us over the actual Shavuot period - such an event has never taken place in the history of the Jewish people up until this day. The message, in different words from so many disparate people, consisted of the same eternal injunctions from the most important books in the Hebrew Bible, the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy – 'love your neighbour as yourself, love the stranger'. These words teach us that the heart of Judaism consists of learning, studying and imbibing, in order to internalize the tools with which we can become better human beings and live out the truth that the entire world is imbued with G-d's love.

All of this flexibility is down to the fact that Judaism doesn't have a theology around buildings. G-d Himself is known as 'the place' in Hebrew (Makom) and midrash states: 'G-d is the place of the world, but the world is not His place.' This signals that we should meet G-d in our everyday lives, in our families, in our work and in the 'other'.

It would probably be accurate to state that Jews therefore use buildings out of convenience, starting with the mishkan, (tabernacle), which actually means 'indwelling'. The mishkan was portable and carried around the desert until the Jewish people arrived in Israel, the promised land, and built the Temple in Jerusalem as a focal point, but not as a replacement, for behaving as G-d's people in everyday life. And in Judaism, G-d does not actually need the Temple; it is we who need G-d, who manifests through our own behaviour towards other people.

After the Temple was destroyed in 70 CE, when Jews moved to a new place in diaspora during their 2,000 years of dispersion, the most important edifices to build were the mikveh for women, followed by schools for children and study houses for learning. A place for prayer per se comes well down the list.

Very often now, study houses are placed inside synagogues, as in ours, which contains a few different rooms. The various rooms often double up as a place for study, with a library, and prayer room, as well as the site of weddings and Kiddush (food and drink occasions after the service, or to celebrate a joyous event or family occasion).

However, Sinai - a humble bush where the Jewish people were handed the Torah (teaching) from G-d and all experienced it, man, woman and child - is where the injunction to study came from.

Nowadays, Jews are supposed to form a gathering of 10 men for a 'minyan' (quorum) for a full service to take place. But abridged services can take place with fewer people present, and over the last three months with the Covid situation, people have been meeting (especially in Israel) spaced apart and with masks, on balconies, in courtyards, parks and streets.

Luckily the weather has been good enough for this.

The main thing is that Judaism isn't exclusively a religion of prayer, but, also, and just as important, a 'learning and doing religion', which is why all these contemporary Zoom meetings have been so meaningful at present.

Very important to Judaism is the fact that rabbis are not priests or vicars. They are hired and fired by the congregation, and it is more important to have learned men and women in the congregation who can take over. To be a 'kingdom of priests' actually means to form a community of learned and giving individuals - and doing 'G-d's work' is what this is all about.

A very good quote which sums up the question about the place of buildings in Judaism is from Rabbi Shear Yashuv Cohen. When he was head-hunted in 1966 to become the next Chief Rabbi of the UK, he preached in one of the central London synagogues, known disparagingly as 'a cathedral synagogue'. The title of his sermon was: 'Do not enclose the Lord in splendiferous synagogues' and he said the following: "I implore you not to imprison G-d in the synagogue. Let Him enter into your home as a welcome guest, as part of the family. Let Him participate in your everyday activities, and even bear Him in mind when you pursue your hobbies.' (See my book 'Rabbi Shear Yashuv Cohen: Between War and Peace' for more on his sermon.)

Helpfully, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, offered me his own views on the place of the Temple in Christian theology for this article. Here is what he has to say on the matter:

"Luke's gospel tells us that Jesus before his Ascension instructs his disciples to return to Jerusalem to await the coming of the Spirit; and the disciples do so and meet regularly in the Temple. The Temple is where God 'makes his Name to dwell', according to Hebrew Scripture. And this combines with the Rabbinical traditions that treat the Temple as a kind of symbol of the whole creation restored to beauty and order.

"It is not just that the daily sacrifices recall the binding and rescuing of Isaac, and so symbolise the covenant with Abraham; the entire layout of the Temple speaks of the world restored and harmonised. So it is not the case that Jesus brushes aside the Temple and tells his followers to do the same. Certainly he speaks of the 'Temple' of his own body – but this does not mean that the Temple is now of no significance, rather that he sees the restoration and redemption that is enacted in the Temple as defining his own calling and destiny.

"So where else should the disciples wait and pray? This is a building that concentrates their minds and imaginations on the covenant with Abraham but also on the cosmic restoration promised by God. When Luke describes the earliest days of the Christian community, he stresses their faithful presence in the Temple, and we read in other texts about the piety of Jesus' brother James who prayed daily in the Temple.

"The first Christians may have believed that the Temple was ultimately a sign that illuminated the significance of Jesus, but they certainly did not simply think Jesus had done away with the Temple or that they could ignore it. To pray in the Temple was for them a mark of their ongoing fidelity to the calling of Israel even when they thought that this fidelity had been taken to a new level in the life and death of Jesus."

Words to ponder indeed.

Dr Irene Lancaster is a Jewish academic, author and translator who has established university courses on Jewish history, Jewish studies and the Hebrew Bible. She trained as a teacher in modern Languages and Religious Education.