Carrying the Light: Stories of Jewish Life and Unity During World War I

As we light the Hanukkah candles this year, I am drawn to the stories of Jewish life in places where its presence might surprise some—small towns like Steubenville, Ohio, and Tredegar, Wales. These towns, though removed from the major centers of Jewish life, carried a unique kind of light, illuminating their corners of the world with resilience, interfaith collaboration, and the quiet strength of shared humanity.

Hanukkah is a time of rededication, of remembering how light, even when faint, can endure and expand. The history of Jewish life in Appalachia and Wales echoes these themes, reminding us that Jewish life has not only existed in unexpected places but has thrived, contributing meaningfully to entire communities and regions.

In Steubenville, Ohio, during World War I, the Jewish community—numbering about 200 people—was active. Among the community’s members at least 36 enlisted to serve in the military. David Alter, stationed in France, wrote home about observing Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur near the front lines. “We boys from different companies will form and pray and hope ours and yours be answered,” he wrote. Another local, Abraham Myers, described in a letter home how he found a kosher restaurant while abroad and spoke in Yiddish with its staff.

Back home, many locals, including Jewish women like Rebecca Altman, led efforts to support the war, organizing Liberty Loan Drives and contributing to the Red Cross. Altman, also an accomplished writer and translator, shared insights in publications like the Herald-Star. Beyond these efforts, the Jewish Relief Association of Steubenville exemplified the community’s commitment to global Jewish welfare, raising the equivalent of over $500,000 today to aid Jews suffering in Eastern Europe and Palestine. This effort was bolstered by non-Jewish neighbors who joined these campaigns, saving lives. In a town like Steubenville, such partnerships, from over a century ago, show how some small-towns worked across religious differences, fostering mutual respect and collaboration.

While Steubenville’s story highlights how solidarity can unite a community across religious boundaries, Tredegar’s history shows how communities can also wrestle with division before finding moments of reconciliation and shared purpose. In 1911, Tredegar experienced an anti-Jewish riot during which multiple Jewish-owned businesses were plundered and damaged. Yet this dark chapter did not define the entire community. Local newspapers condemned the violence, describing it as “wanton wreckage” and reported on harsh sentences of hard labor for several rioters. Even amidst the unrest, some community members attempted to dissuade the rioters with some limited successes. One piece in the South Wales Argus published shortly after the riot extended New Year’s greetings to Jewish residents, emphasizing their contributions and shared humanity. These sentiments coexisted with the riots, revealing the coexistence of division and solidarity.

In 1918, when Lieutenant Laurence Rosenbaum, a local Jewish soldier, lost his life in World War I, the Tredegar Weekly Argus published a moving tribute, describing him as “one of the best boys in Tredegar.” The article detailed a memorial service at the Montefiore Centenary Synagogue, attended by both Jews and non-Jews, underscoring how this community honored shared sacrifices. 

Eighteen miles from Tredegar, Pontypridd provides another striking example of interfaith goodwill. The Jewish community, which had conducted services locally since about 1865, formally dedicated a purpose-built synagogue in 1895. Local Christians played a visible role in raising funds for its construction, earning public thanks from the Jewish community. This act of solidarity, repeated in some small town Jewish communities in Ohio, reflected the potential for collaboration across religious boundaries. The synagogue’s dedication was presided over by the Chief Rabbi, Hermann Adler, who delivered a public address reported on in local press. A celebratory reception was also held at the town hall, symbolizing not only interfaith collaboration but also the town’s recognition of the Jewish community as integral to its civic life. Such gestures were rare to nonexistent in many other parts of Europe. 

These stories, from Steubenville to Tredegar to Pontypridd, remind us of the power of collaboration and mutual care. The partnerships that emerged—whether in fundraising for Jewish relief in Steubenville, community tributes in Tredegar, or shared contributions to synagogue construction in Pontypridd—reflect the spirit of Hanukkah. Light spreads and multiplies when shared.

The eventual decline of Jewish communities in Steubenville and Tredegar primarily reflects larger economic and demographic shifts rather than a loss of faith or commitment. Steubenville’s population peaked around 1940, with its Jewish community reaching its height in the 1930s before industries began to close and younger generations moved to urban centers. Tredegar’s Jewish community disbanded in the 1940s under similar pressures. These changes are part of a broader story of post-industrial decline in towns across Appalachia, Wales, and beyond. Yet even as these communities faded, their legacies endure in the letters of soldiers like Alter and Myers, the public tributes to figures like Rosenbaum, and the still existing structure that housed Pontypridd’s former synagogue. 

Hanukkah’s lessons resonate deeply in these histories. The menorah, lit from the newest candle on, teaches us to honor what is new while building upon what came before. In Steubenville and Tredegar, Jewish communities created light not only for themselves but for their neighbors. Hanukkah is also a time of rededication. Just as the Maccabees reclaimed and rededicated the Temple, these small-town Jewish communities dedicated themselves to acts of service and connection. Their stories invite us to consider how we can rededicate ourselves to causes that matter.

Finally, Hanukkah reminds us that even a small amount of light can dispel great darkness. The partnerships formed in these towns—whether through relief efforts, shared fundraising, or shared comforting of the bereaved—reflect this truth. Unity has the power to transform lives and communities.

For me, these stories are not just historical; they are deeply personal. My family’s roots in southeastern Ohio connect me to places like Steubenville, where Jewish life intertwined with the broader struggles and triumphs of the region. Though I converted to Judaism in my late teens, I feel a profound connection to these histories. They remind me that Jewish life can exist and thrive in places like where I grew up and where I know other young Jews, who contribute to the broader tapestry of Jewish identity.

As we light the menorah this Hanukkah, I hope we can carry forward the example of these small-town Jewish communities. Their stories remind us that Jewish resilience, interfaith collaboration, and our shared memory is not only confined to large cities. We must also look in the quiet corners of history, in the partnerships forged during times of crisis, and in the enduring legacies of those who lived their values. In Steubenville, Tredegar, and Pontypridd Jews and non-Jews came together to support one another, demonstrating lessons for our own time. This Hanukkah, may we carry their light forward, shining hope and connection into our own communities and beyond.