Jewish American Heritage Month

Posted By richards on October 1, 2014

Fate of a Historic Hoosier Synagogue is Uncertain

Kurt Hoffman

Northern Cardinal, State Bird of Indiana

This past Labor Day weekend we celebrated the 125th anniversary of a synagogue to the sounds of AC/DC, rumbling Harleys, and the Blake Shelton song, Kiss My Country Ass. The synagogue was none other than Ahavath Sholom, built in Ligonier in Noble County, Indiana in 1889, and the music, well, it was part of Ligoniers 22nd annual Marshmallow Festival going on nearby. For over 50 years, Ligonier was home to Kidd Marshmallow factory, which in a single week produced 20,000 cases of kosher marshmallows each February before being sold in 1996.

German Jews arrived in Ligonier in the 1850s as peddlers and quickly built up the downtown with dry goods shops, banks, real estate businesses, and even buggy and pump organ factories. Ligoniers Reform Jews held Sabbath and holiday services in the homes of prominent Jewish community members such as Solomon Mier and Jacob Straus. By the 1860s, the Jewish community grew to merit a small wooden synagogue and a cemetery. By the late 1800s, the Jewish community made up half of the business owners in town and 15% of the population numbering around 1,500. Many served as mayors and councilmen. In September 1889, the community built and dedicated the 1,430-square-foot Ahavath Sholom synagogue at 503 S. Main St. at the cost of $15,000.

I was born in 1979 on a farm in Noble County about 15 miles away from Ahavath Sholom; the closest Jewish community is over 40 miles away in Fort Wayne. Noble County is pretty much the same now as it was then. According to the 2010 census, there were 47,536 people living in this mostly farming county; 97% of the population is white. To this day, my parents still live on the farm-turned-vineyard where I grew up, and I would never trade my childhood for any cramped urban or sterile suburban upbringing.

But I had never heard about the Ahavath Sholom synagogue until I received a phone call from John Bry, who was the director of the Noble County Convention and Visitors Bureau, about five years ago. Word had somehow gotten out in the small community that a Noble County native had lived in Israel for a few years, received a masters in museum studies at George Washington University and just finished another masters in Jewish history at Brandeis. I received the call in Columbus, Ohio, where I now live.

Were thinking of painting a Jewish mural on the side of the synagogue, Bry said, and we need your help to determine what to paint. My heart sank. Not only was I just now finding out about a historic synagogue so close to my childhood home, but it was going to be painted before I even laid eyes on it. Ligonier, like many other towns in the Midwest, had decided to boost tourism in the area by commissioning murals on the sides of old buildings depicting the history of the area. Luckily, the Jewish mural never came to fruition but it was nonetheless my introduction to the building.

The first time I actually saw the synagogue, it was decorated with red bows and an evergreen garland for Christmas. My mother and I had signed up for the 2009 historic walking tour of Ligonier and Ahavath Sholom was one of the stops. As soon as I stepped inside, my love affair with the building began. The sanctuary was covered, wall-to-ceiling, with stuff. The Ligonier Historical Society had used every square inch of the sanctuary to hang and display their entire collection of objects. But through the grandmas attic atmosphere, I was blown away by the vibrant stained glass windows on the north, south and west sides of the sanctuary and awestruck by the wooden Aron Kodesh on the east side.

The red brick Victorian Gothic revival building boasts stained glass windows depicting three scenes of King Davids life, an ornately carved wooden Torah cabinet that protrudes out the back of the building in brick, and the original brass and opalescent glass lighting fixtures throughout. According to an article in the September 12, 1889, Ligonier Banner, the synagogue dedication was quite a celebration. Members carried the Torah scrolls from the old wooden synagogue down the street to the tunes of the Ligonier Military Band, and with uncovered heads, read a poem at the front steps that referenced peace, brotherhood, doing away with prejudices and fanaticism, and ended with this stanza:

See the original post here:

A Rude Awakening in Indiana's Marshmallow Country

Category: Synagogue
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