It's the largest Jewish congregation in the Carolinas, with 1,100 families. But for years, Charlotte's Temple Beth El has had to use space in large churches to accommodate all those who wanted to attend services on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur - the holidays that open and close the Jewish High Holy Days.

That wandering will end this year, thanks to a $5.5 million expansion that nearly doubled the size of the Reform synagogue on Providence Road.

On Wednesday night, when Jews around the world welcome the New Year of 5772 on Rosh Hashanah, members of Temple Beth El - including many who come to synagogue only during the High Holy Days - will be able to celebrate in their own building.

"It was time to come home," says Norm Levin, one of Temple Beth El's two honorary life presidents and a member since 1967.

Rabbi Judy Schindler, who has led Temple Beth El since 2003, is anticipating some emotional moments, especially when her flock stands before the ark, lights candles, welcomes the new year and thanks God that they have made it to that moment.

"We say that prayer every year," says Schindler. "But this year, it will have added meaning because we've made it to this moment of being in our space."

Says Jonathan Howard, the other honorary life president and the leader who most closely oversaw the renovation: "It's always nice to be in your own home."

And yet, says Schindler, Jews have learned over many centuries that it's the people, not the building, that's most important.

"In Exodus ... (God) says, 'If you build me a sanctuary, I will dwell among you,' " says Schindler. "We create sacred space wherever we are. That's what Jews do."

From Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness to the Diaspora that scattered Jews around the globe to the flight from Europe to America and the state of Israel after the Holocaust - the history of Judaism and much of what's in the Torah, the Jews' holy book, is about wandering and coming home.

And about creating communities while still in the wilderness.

Or, as Schindler's predecessor, Rabbi James Bennett, put it when Temple Beth El held Rosh Hashanah services at Central Church of God in 1998: "We Jews ought to teach our children that we can pray anywhere. ... In the Holocaust, Jews prayed in concentration camps. ... We, the people, are the congregation. We create our synagogue wherever we are."

Charlotte's other large Jewish communities - Temple Israel, a Conservative congregation, and Ohr HaTorah, an Orthodox community - have enough space to accommodate the turnout during the High Holy Days.

Still meeting in churches are budding congregations at Lake Norman. Beth Shalom, a Conservative congregation of about 60 families, meets at St. Alban's Episcopal Church in Davidson.

"It's our home away from home," says President Len Sadek. "Our space at St. Alban's allows us to keep our two Torahs there, and have a religious school."

Havurat Tikvah - Hebrew for "Friends of Hope" - is a lay-led Reconstructionist group that lost its lease at a church in February.

It wasn't until late summer that the community of about 100 was able to work out a deal with Avondale Presbyterian on Park Road.

"For many months, we were wandering, renting space here and there," says President Lainey Millen.

Havurat Tikvah meets in space that doesn't have some of the more traditional Christian symbols found in sanctuaries.

A church, not a temple

In the late 1990s, when Temple Beth El started meeting in churches on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, there were some in the Jewish congregation who objected.

Rabbi Bennett, in that 1998 sermon, acknowledged that some members had registered their protest by deciding to leave the temple - or just stay home.

While recognizing that anti-Semitism stained Christianity for centuries, Bennett told his congregation that that was in the past.

In recent years, when Temple Beth El had High Holy Day services at St. Matthew Catholic Church in Ballantyne, the church respected the sensitivities of its guests by curtaining off its crucifix and turning off the baptismal font.

"We are so overwhelmed with gratitude ... at their generous hospitality," Schindler says of the churches that hosted them over the years, including Central Church of God, Myers Park Baptist and Forest Hill.

Jerusalem stone arrives

Still, Schindler and the others at Temple Beth El say they won't miss all the lugging and U-hauling of their portable ark and Torahs.

And though the move home has its own logistical challenges - involving parking, the sound system, the need for more chairs, the reinstalled organ - they expect a joyful homecoming.

One addition that will reinforce the temple's spiritual roots: the Jerusalem stone - three shipments were sent from Israel - used in the renovation.

Coming home

Fifty weeks a year, Temple Beth El is big enough for Shabbat and other services.

Not so for the roughly 24 hours of sanctuary time on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when Jews absent the rest of the year show up - just as many Christians only attend church on Easter and Christmas.

"So, for some, those are the only ... hours they ever stand in the temple," Howard says. "It's important to them, so it's important to us."

And for members of Temple Beth El, coming home to expanded space will echo the message of the High Holy Days, Schindler says.

"The whole metaphor is about entering the gates of righteousness and forgiveness," she says. "It's a returning to God and to our best selves."