How Jewish Leaders Brought Universal Values to Small-Town America

In April 1872, a small but remarkable event unfolded in Springfield, Ohio. Rabbi Max Lilienthal, a towering figure in American Reform Judaism, delivered a lecture at the town’s Opera House. The event, organized by Springfield’s Jewish community of fewer than 15 people, drew an audience of 250, most of whom were non-Jews. Despite Rabbi Lilienthal being ill and delivering only part of his lecture, local newspapers described the event as “one of the marvels of the season.”

This lecture is more than just an interesting historical footnote. It offers a window into the unique openness of small-town America in the 19th and early 20th centuries. At a time when most towns across Europe operated under the shadow of state religions, the United States fostered a different dynamic—one where even small Jewish communities could see themselves as contributors to the moral and intellectual betterment of their towns. Rabbi Lilienthal’s lecture was just one example of how Jewish leaders shared their faith and ideas with broader audiences in ways that resonated far beyond their own communities.

Before television and radio, public lectures were a major way to share ideas, foster dialogue, and engage communities. Even small towns like Springfield had opera houses and other venues built specifically for performances and intellectual gatherings. This reflects the broader cultural trend of late 19th- and early 20th-century America, where public discourse thrived.

Even before the waves of Eastern European Jewish immigration began in 1881 following the assassination of Czar Alexander II, Jewish life in America was steadily growing. Between 1830 and 1880, Judaism became increasingly visible and accepted in the United States. While Jewish communities in the early republic were concentrated in a few cities, by 1880, organized Jewish life had spread to smaller towns like Springfield, Chillicothe, Piqua, and Portsmouth. Judaism was no longer confined to urban centers but had become a visible part of many local communities. This expanding presence paralleled the confidence of Reform Jewish leaders, who embraced opportunities to engage non-Jewish audiences with ideas rooted in Jewish ethics and universalist themes.

This trend of public lectures fostering interfaith dialogue and supporting communal goals wasn’t confined to Springfield. Across Ohio, similar efforts unfolded in towns like Piqua, Athens, Portsmouth, and Chillicothe, where Jewish leaders and communities engaged with broader audiences, often through public lectures that emphasized universal values.

In Piqua, the Ladies’ Aid Society of Anshe Emeth supported the synagogue’s Sunday School in part through sponsoring public lectures on Jewish history and theology that fostered mutual understanding between Jews and their neighbors.

In Athens, the first recorded presence of a rabbi locally was not in connection with a Jewish group but rather a Christian church. On January 11, 1872, Rabbi Judah Wechsler of Columbus delivered a lecture at a Methodist Church in Athens. The event was publicized in The Athens Messenger, inviting the broader community to hear him speak. At the time, Athens had no organized Jewish community, just a few Jewish families among its estimated 1,600 residents. This lecture highlights the openness of small-town America to interfaith dialogue and the willingness of Jewish leaders to share their ideas in predominantly non-Jewish spaces.

While Athens highlighted interfaith dialogue in a predominantly non-Jewish space, Portsmouth shows how Jewish leaders used public lectures to strengthen their own communities while engaging broader audiences. In 1923, Rabbi Stephen S. Wise, one of the foremost Jewish leaders of his time, spoke at the Portsmouth High School Auditorium to help raise funds for Beneh Abraham’s new synagogue. His lecture not only advanced the congregation’s goals but also demonstrated the intellectual and spiritual leadership of the Jewish community to a general audience.

In Chillicothe, Rabbi David Klein regularly traveled from Columbus to lead services and provide religious instruction. Beyond his religious role, he supported local charitable efforts. In 1899, Rabbi Klein delivered a lecture to raise money for a Chillicothe hospital, an event organized through the leadership of local Jews including Moritz Schachne. This underscores how Jewish communities contributed to their towns’ civic life, often bridging divides through shared causes.

A common thread in these stories is the universalist vision of Reform Judaism. Leaders like Rabbi Lilienthal, Rabbi Wechsler, Rabbi Wise, and Rabbi Klein saw their work as extending beyond their own congregations. They believed that Jewish teachings, rooted in the prophetic ideals of figures like Isaiah, could inspire moral betterment not just within the Jewish community but in the broader world. As Isaiah proclaimed, “For My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isaiah 56:7). This verse, found in Bibles worldwide, underscores the timeless importance of Judaism’s universalist vision.

Reform Jewish leaders were motivated by many factors. They had confidence in Judaism’s message, believing it could thrive in America’s environment of religious freedom and openness. They also grappled with the realities of intermarriage, which raised questions about how to welcome non-Jews into the community. These themes remain relevant today as Jewish communities consider how to be both open and resilient in the face of demographic and cultural change.

These historical examples also illustrate the enduring relevance of Jewish universalism—a principle that continues to resonate in my own work documenting small-town Jewish histories. I’ve seen how these stories impact non-Jewish audiences. Many Americans live in small towns or rural areas, and these histories place Judaism in a context that feels familiar and accessible. Judaism is not just a faith of large urban centers like New York or Los Angeles—it has roots in small towns, too. Small Jewish communities and large alike contribute meaningfully to the Jewish collective and have the potential to leave a lasting impact.

When I recently gave a virtual talk at the Licking County Library in Newark, Ohio—a city with no organized Jewish community today—the response from the audience was overwhelmingly positive. I received wonderful feedback, including comments that the presentation was excellent and the research remarkable. Similarly, my work has been preserved by institutions like the Southeast Ohio History Center in Athens and the Center for Archival Collections at Bowling Green State University. These partnerships show how small-town Jewish histories continue to inspire curiosity and connection across cultural and religious divides.

The story of Rabbi Lilienthal’s lecture in Springfield, along with the many other examples from Ohio’s small Jewish communities, offers an important lesson for today. We should feel confident in sharing Judaism’s values with the world, inviting seekers into Jewish spaces, and embracing the universalist spirit of our tradition. These stories remind us that Jewish ethics and ideas are not only timeless but also boundlessly relevant—“a light unto the nations.”

In reclaiming the universalist vision of leaders like Rabbi Lilienthal, we can inspire new connections and ensure that Jewish ideas continue to enrich the world. As Isaiah envisioned, a house of prayer for all peoples can be a center of connection and understanding, building bridges that honor our past and guide us toward a flourishing future.