In June 1875, a remarkable event unfolded in Jackson, Miss., one that may surprise many today. A new synagogue, Temple Beth Israel, was dedicated in the heart of the city. The ceremony began in front of Jackson City Hall and proceeded to the sanctuary, where so many people gathered—Jews and Christians, entrepreneurs and ministers, politicians and judges—that some could not even fit inside.
The procession alone told a story. Local judges and political leaders walked alongside both Union and Confederate Civil War veterans. Members of the city’s elite joined visitors from across the region. The choir of Vicksburg’s Jewish congregation provided music for the occasion, and Rabbi Bernhard Henry Gotthelf of Vicksburg delivered the dedication sermon. The president of the congregation, Isadore Strauss, welcomed not only Jews who had traveled to Jackson for the occasion, but also the Christian guests who had come to honor the moment.
The synagogue, which seated 300, was filled beyond capacity. Contemporary reports noted that it would have taken a structure twice its size to hold all who wished to enter. The crowd included members of the city’s most prominent families, Christian clergy and curious citizens eager to take part. It was a civic occasion as much as a religious one.
I came across this story as part of a larger project documenting Jewish life in overlooked places. Since 2017, I’ve been researching small-town Jewish history—first in my home state of Ohio, then in New York, and more recently across the South, Canada and even Wales. Again and again, I found a pattern: communities of other faiths showing up to help build Jewish schools, donate to synagogues and share sacred space. Jackson’s story fits that pattern—beautifully, and perhaps unexpectedly.
Because when we think of Jackson’s Jewish history, we often think of 1967, when white supremacists bombed Beth Israel, which by this time was in a newer building. Rabbi Perry Nussbaum, its longtime spiritual leader, was a vocal advocate for civil rights, helping raise funds to rebuild Black churches destroyed by arson. The synagogue bombing made national headlines—and rightly so. The memory of that violence lingers.
But that isn’t where the story begins—or ends.
In 1875, it was possible for a synagogue dedication to become a shared civic moment—one where religious difference did not preclude participation but invited it. This was not a utopia, but it was a real moment of interfaith visibility, one that reflects the often overlooked complexity of Mississippi’s religious and civic past.
Remembering that moment now matters. It reminds us that pluralism has deeper roots in Mississippi than many assume. It invites us to see Jewish belonging not as marginal or recent, but as part of the state’s civic fabric—even in eras when Jews were a tiny minority.
And that legacy continues. Beth Israel still exists today as Jackson’s only synagogue, and interfaith efforts remain active—from local partnerships to statewide coalitions and faith-based public-service groups. The past offers proof that solidarity is not just something we hope for in the future. It’s something we’ve seen before.
In 1875, Beth Israel was Jackson’s only non-Christian house of worship. Today, the city is home to Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and other minority communities. What does it look like, today, to show up for one another—even when we don’t agree on everything? When this happens, we build something deeper than agreement: We build trust.
The choice has never been between perfect unity and permanent division. The choice is always: Do we show up, or do we turn away?
As we reflect on the recently passed observations of Passover and Easter, we’re reminded that for generations, Jackson has been home to many different points of view—and many ways of gathering around shared hope. The story of 1875 challenges us to imagine what it would look like—not just for houses of worship to be safe—but for them to be filled again with neighbors, guests, and unexpected allies.
In 1875, Jackson chose to show up. We can do it again.
The historical sources referenced in this essay come from a period newspaper account, archived and transcribed by the author.
Read more about the Temple Beth Israel here
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