Features
Return to Ukraine: searching out the Rosner family past
Introduction: Not too long ago we were contacted by former CBC Manitoba managing editor Cecil Rosner, who asked us whether we’d be interested in publishing a story about a trip he took in 2012 to visit the area in Ukraine where both his parents were born. Although it’s been 10 years since Cecil visited Ukraine, given the current situation in that country we thought it timely to get a sense of what life was like in Ukraine prior to the Russian invasion.
By CECIL ROSNER ““Oi — look at the way the schlemiel drives.”
We are bouncing along the potholed roads of Western Ukraine, heading from Lviv to my mother’s hometown of Buczacz. Our driver and guide isn’t Jewish, but that doesn’t stop him from endlessly whistling Fiddler on the Roof tunes and inserting Yiddishisms into every second phrase.
“These guys are all ganefs (thieves),” he says of the policemen we pass, as he forms his thumb and forefinger into a pistol and slowly pulls the trigger. Alex doesn’t like the speed traps the highway patrols set up, and he appreciates oncoming drivers signalling him to beware of cops just beyond the next hill. It’s an important issue for our driver, who crisscrosses Ukraine’s roads all year-long, ferrying tourists to distant towns and villages in search of their Jewish ancestors.
For Alex, who holds a history degree and is an expert at tracing genealogical roots, it’s an occupation he never dreamed he would have. But in the chaos of the Soviet Union’s collapse, when jobs were evaporating and everyone was trying to reimagine their lives, it seemed like a useful niche to pursue – especially as foreigners were finally trying to discover exactly what had happened to their relatives during the Second World War.
That’s why I’m here too, along with my wife and a cousin. Both of my parents were born in the region, and both were here when the Nazis occupied the area in 1941. In different improbable and miraculous ways, they both survived the war and emigrated to Canada. But every single other family member was shot, gassed, beaten or starved to death by the Nazis and their collaborators. We came here to see what traces of their lives remained.
It seemed logical to make our first stop the local museum, right across from the old city hall. Buczacz is little more than a village, with about 13,000 people. In the early part of the 19th century, Jews made up two-thirds of the population. While that number ebbed and flowed over the years, Jews were still in the majority when the Nazi occupation began. But that would have been difficult to discern in the museum.
In all the display cases, and in the colourful photo album that the town produces, there is no specific mention of a Jewish population. There is scarcely any reference to the Second World War, except for a notation that the town “was released from German invaders and captured by the Soviet Union.” Wouldn’t a town’s museum want to address what became of the majority of the population? What happened to thousands of farmers, shop owners, tailors, tinsmiths, doctors, lawyers and politicians? Doesn’t the mass roundup and extermination of most people in town even rate a mention?
The only hint of any Jewish presence came in the form of artifacts from the life of Shmuel Agnon, a Jewish writer born in Buczacz who won the Nobel Prize for literature. But the entire fate of the people Agnon wrote about had been erased.
Alex had little luck getting the museum’s employee to throw any light on what the town was like in the immediate pre-war period. She genuinely seemed not to know. But there were a few things I already knew.
My mother, Mina, had been born here in 1913, and her family owned a wholesale distribution company. They carbonated water and stored it in big, forty-litre copper cylinders, shipping them along with ice to shops throughout the area. When she was 25, she married my father, Michael Rosner, who came from nearby Kolomaya. In 1939, they opened a small retail store on the main town square, probably within metres of the present-day museum.
When the war broke out in September 1939, there was a reprieve. The region came under the control of the Soviets, and Jews were under no immediate threat. All that changed when Hitler marched eastward in 1941. My father was conscripted by the retreating Soviets, and my mother was trapped behind Nazi lines for the remainder of the war.
For the next three years, every member of my mother’s family – her parents, five brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins – were dragged from their hiding places, bludgeoned or shot, or sent off to be executed. They were all dumped into unmarked graves. My parents’ first-born child – my brother – also fell victim, dying at the age of three in 1942.
My mother’s survival defied any normal odds. She fled from one hiding place to another, escaping just in time to avoid capture. She spent 11 months in the attic of a Polish family along with five other Jews. She took an assumed name and boldly convinced the Nazis she was Christian. Finally, after Buczacz was liberated, she re-united with my father and they came to Canada to start anew in 1948.
I had been to Buczacz once before, with my mother, in 1990. We came with a documentary crew to record her first visit back home since the war. It was an emotional trip and a difficult one for both of us. But we learned very little of the actual events that had transpired in the town, or the exact locations where they happened. That’s why, nearly 15 years after my mother’s death, I was returning for a second time.
I convinced Alex that our best strategy on this trip would be to find older people and ask them what they knew about the 30s and 40s. Alex seemed skeptical. For one thing, the war had begun more than 70 years ago, so it was unlikely there would be any useful first-hand witnesses at hand. And there was also the collective amnesia that pertained to inconvenient truths.
After all, a segment of the population had actively collaborated with Hitler. They were instrumental in helping identify and round up the Jews, the Communists, and all the other elements the Nazis wanted to destroy. Some might still be living in Buczacz and surrounding areas. Their children and grandchildren almost certainly are here.
The museum’s employee finally gives us a sliver of hope. There is someone in town we should visit – someone who knows the history and might be able to help us. His name is Mykola.
We drive for a few minutes and stop at Mykola’s house. I am expecting to find an elderly man who may have been a teenager during the war. Instead, we come upon a 40-something man in sweatpants and a Maple Leafs T-shirt. He is clutching a handful of papers and photographs. One of them shows a photo of Buczacz’s surviving Jews standing beside a memorial gravestone in 1944. Out of the original population of 10,000, no more than 100 survived. One of the people in the photo is my mother.
Mykola has taken an interest in wartime history, and now helps visiting tourists locate family remnants. He has a variety of interesting documents, including a map of pre-war street names, and a mid-19th century register of townsfolk. It turns out that he knows about some of the Jewish families that lived in Buczacz during the war – a handful of them have returned over the years, and he has helped them find their old homes and landmarks.
We ask Mykola if he could help solve a puzzle my mother and I couldn’t figure out on our previous trip. Her family had lived on a street called Zeblickevicie, which had changed names several times after the war. From her description, though, we knew it was beside a stream that ran into the Strypa River, a subsidiary of the Dniester.
We pile into the car along with Mykola and he directs us to the location. The stream had been covered over, except at the point where it emptied into the Strypa. Though the original home was no longer there, he shows us the exact location where my mother’s family had lived. I saw the idyllic surroundings, the lush vegetation around the quiet river, and for the first time I had an inkling of the peaceful life my mother experienced before the war changed everything.
While we were all walking along the old Zeblickevicie street, Mykola bumps into a friend and exchanges a few words with him. As we walk on, the friend stops my wife, Harriet, and our cousin Nina and says: “Mina Rosner – I am a Witness.” That is the name of my mother’s book. Alex is impatient. He had rich experience of locals trying to pester visitors, and he was eager to move us all along. But Harriet and Nina persist. It turns out the man on our chance encounter knows all about my mother’s story, and offers to take us on a tour of where she lived, where she went to school, where she hid during the war, and where her family members were killed.
Over the next 24 hours, Alex grudgingly admits he was wrong. Our serendipitous encounter has linked us up with Jura, a 60-year-old retired computer technician, astrologist and local historian. He knows my mother’s exact birthdate, and, it appears, everyone else’s in town. He has a photocopied version of my mother’s book, and he has pieced together her recollections with precise locations of many of the events she describes. If photographic memories actually exist, we figure he has one. He is a visiting tourist’s dream come true, and Alex has to take a back seat while Jura takes us on a remarkable tour of my mother’s life.
The first stop is just around the corner, on a street that used to be called Chechego Maya. I remember it from my mother’s stories, but we could never pinpoint it on our previous trip. Jura shows us the building where my mother’s sister and her husband ran a hardware shop. He knows the address because it’s listed in trade publications of the era. Though my mother’s original house and her parents’ store no longer existed, I finally had an authentic touchstone of some of her family’s life at the time.
Jura takes us to the pre-war building on Kolejowa Street that served as the cheder, the religious school, where Jewish kids studied. We visit the girls’ school and middle school where my mother was a student, and walk into Buczacz’s Sokol theatre, where she watched dramatic performances and movies as a teenager. A group of children is rehearsing a musical concert on stage, and I can imagine my mother sitting in the auditorium with her brothers and sisters and friends.
Just down the road, near an orchard, Jura shows us the garden of a long-ago demolished home where my mother hid during one of the Nazi aktions, or periodic killing sprees. A bunker had been constructed in the cellar, and this helped shield her and other Jews from capture. The Nazis conducted four major aktions during their occupation of Buczacz before declaring the town Judenrein, or completely free of Jews. But the declaration turned out to be false. My mother, along with dozens of others, managed to survive with the aid of courageous gentile families who risked their safety to shelter them.
In the middle of our travels, Jura pulls out a sheet of typewritten names – people who had served as policemen, gendarmes and SS officers during the war. I recognize some of the names. Some of the Nazi war criminals and their collaborators have been brought to justice, but the vast majority remain undetected and untried for their crimes.
We go to the Jewish cemetery, where many of the town’s Jews – including my mother’s parents – were taken to be executed. The place is untended and overgrown, a jumble of brush and junk, with headstones in various states of disrepair. We find my great-grandmother’s grave. It’s significant, because two plots over my mother buried her first-born child, Isaac, in an unmarked plot. I clear away the branches and debris from the group of headstones in the area to get a better view. I bend down and touch the ground where the brother I never met is buried. Exactly 70 years later, someone has come back to this place to remember.
Jura takes me down a path through brambles to a spot where survivors had erected a memorial to the war’s victims. The place is overgrown with trees and bushes now, but he says there was nothing here before the war. The marker no longer survives, and even if it did, it’s unlikely anyone would be able to find it without an expert guide.
Our next stop is Fedor Hill, another killing ground where thousands perished. It’s difficult to see traces of anything here, but Jura once again guides us to a marker commemorating the killing of 450 people during the early days of slaughter in 1941. It had been erected by a survivor’s family well after the war.
A far more prominent memorial on Fedor Hill is dedicated to the UPA, the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, the military wing of a movement that initially collaborated with the Nazis in hopes of winning an independent homeland. In fact, throughout our travels in Western Ukraine, there were numerous new memorials to Ukrainian nationalist fighters in places where it might have been logical to place markers noting the victims of the Nazi era. We saw this on the side of a synagogue in Ivano-Frankivsk, near the Jewish ghetto entrance in Lvov, and many other places. In my father’s hometown of Kolomyia, it was a similar story — no mention of Jews or Nazi victims in the local museum, no remnants of the huge Jewish population, and a patriotic memorial to Ukrainian nationalist figures on the site of a former synagogue. In the re-written history of today, the UPA and its related Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists are presented as groups that fought both Soviets and Nazis; no mention is made of the collaboration in 1941 that led to so much destruction during the war.
Throughout our trip to Ukraine, we were reminded of the upcoming election campaign and the ever-present imagery of Ukrainian nationalism, especially in the Western part of the country. In a land that was exercising its brand of democratic activity, we had to wonder how thoroughly the country had come to grips with its recent history. Many countries are wrestling with related questions, trying to reconcile horrendous events of the past with a way forward. But as in any process or truth and reconciliation, there needs to be an initial recognition of what took place. Erasing and denying the past is rarely the path to building a healthy future.
At the end of our tour in Buczacz, Jura wanted to know the exact date of my mother’s death. He also was interested in our birthdates and any other information he could glean from us. In a country that chooses to forget so much, he was something of an anomaly.
Features
Colleges With the Largest Jewish Student Communities
Choosing a college is hard enough without factoring in whether you’ll be the only Jewish person at the Shabbat table. For students who want Jewish life to be a real part of their college experience – not a weekly drive to the nearest city – campus community matters as much as academic reputation.
The good news: several major universities have Jewish student populations large enough that Jewish holidays are actually acknowledged, kosher dining isn’t a special request, and you’ll find everything from traditional minyanim to social justice groups to Jewish Greek life. What follows is a breakdown of the schools that consistently rank highest, based on Hillel International’s annual data and campus reporting.
What to Look For Beyond the Numbers
Raw population numbers don’t tell the whole story. Some students want a large Jewish population to maximize the number of organizations, fraternities and sororities, and participation at Jewish events. Others want schools with easy kosher dining options and a range of religious options for services. Still others want easy access to a large Jewish community off campus.
Top schools also come with serious academic demands. Jewish students who want to stay active in community life while keeping up with coursework often treat writing as something to outsource strategically. Students who decide to hire essay writer online guidance for specific writing tasks often find that the quality of that support keeps them on track without sacrificing everything else. Some things are worth delegating so you can actually show up for Shabbat or make it to the Hillel event on a Tuesday.
The questions worth asking before committing to any campus:
- Does the Hillel have a dedicated building, or does it operate out of shared space?
- Is kosher dining available in the main dining hall, or is it a separate facility that separates you from non-Jewish friends?
- Does the school adjust exam schedules around major Jewish holidays?
- Is there a Chabad house nearby for students who want a more observant environment?
- What’s the campus climate like regarding antisemitism, and how does the administration respond?
The Top Schools by Jewish Population
University of Florida
UF has 6,500 Jewish students – bigger than some entire colleges. The Jewish community is so established that they have multiple Jewish fraternities and sororities, plus Hillel programming that goes well beyond awkward mixers. The Hillel at UF is nationally recognized, with kosher dining and daily minyanim. Gainesville’s Jewish community includes Orthodox synagogues within reach, and UF’s administration’s efforts to combat antisemitism, as noted in 2024 Hillel reports, ensure a welcoming environment.
Rutgers University
With 6,400 Jewish students, Rutgers gives you every type of Jewish person – from very religious to “only goes to synagogue on Yom Kippur.” Being in New Jersey means NYC is accessible for internships, Shabbat with family, or just a real bagel. Rutgers Hillel is one of the most active in the country and the campus has a long history of Jewish student life.
University of Maryland
One of the most significant Hillel building projects underway anywhere in the country. The new Ben and Esther Rosenbloom Hillel Center For Jewish Life at University of Maryland will be a 40,000-square-foot building in College Park, including a kosher dining area, café, rental catering spaces, and classrooms. Maryland’s Jewish population is large, geographically convenient to Washington D.C., and has been growing.
New York University
NYU sits in the middle of one of the largest Jewish communities in the world, which changes what campus Jewish life looks like entirely. The off-campus options – synagogues, kosher restaurants, Jewish cultural institutions – are unmatched anywhere else on this list. NYU Hillel is active, and students who want a more immersive Jewish urban experience rather than a contained campus bubble tend to thrive here.
Brandeis University
A different category from the others. Brandeis was founded as a Jewish-sponsored institution and still reflects that in its campus culture. Brandeis Hillel recently announced a $20 million project to renovate a former administrative building into a new 28,000-square-foot center for Jewish life on campus. Jewish studies programs are among the strongest in the country, and the campus calendar is built around Jewish holidays as a matter of course.
Cornell University
Cornell has the largest Jewish student population in the Ivy League and is finally getting the college hilel building to match. Construction began in spring 2026 on the Steven K. and Winifred A. Grinspoon Hillel Center for Jewish Community at Cornell – a 24,000-square-foot facility expected to serve over 3,000 Cornellians each year, featuring a kosher café, event hall for Shabbat dinners, a communal kosher kitchen, and a Beit Midrash. Until it opens, the community operates out of Anabel Taylor Hall, where space has been consistently stretched.
Princeton University
Smaller numbers than the large state schools, but the infrastructure is serious. Princeton’s Mandelbaum Family Dining Pavilion opened in March 2025, providing twenty kosher meals a week supervised by the Orthodox Union. Anyone on a Princeton meal plan can eat there – and students of all backgrounds eat there because the food is genuinely good.
Campus Comparison
| School | Approx. Jewish enrollment | Kosher dining | Hillel building | Chabad presence |
| University of Florida | ~6,500 | Yes | Yes | Yes |
| Rutgers University | ~6,400 | Yes | Yes | Yes |
| Cornell University | Largest in Ivy League | Yes (new facility 2027) | Under construction | Yes |
| University of Maryland | Large | New facility opening | Under construction | Yes |
| NYU | Large | Yes + off-campus | Yes | Yes |
| Brandeis | Majority Jewish | Yes | Renovation underway | Yes |
| Princeton | ~13% | Yes (OU-certified) | Yes | Yes |
What Actually Makes a Jewish Campus Community Strong
Numbers matter, but they’re not everything. When you get above around 25% Jewish, the whole campus culture shifts. Jewish holidays become things that professors acknowledge. Kosher food isn’t some weird special request. Everyone understands why you disappear for three days during Rosh Hashanah.
Beyond that threshold, what separates good Jewish campus communities from great ones is programming depth and physical space. A Hillel with a real building, a kosher kitchen, and regular Shabbat dinners creates the conditions for genuine community. A Hillel sharing a conference room and running events sporadically does not.
The schools on this list all offer something real. What varies is the scale, the feel, and whether you want a sprawling state school where Jewish life is one of many communities, or a smaller institution where it’s closer to the center of things.
Features
Is AI Making the Canadian Gaming Sector Safer for Consumers in 2026?
The phrase “artificial intelligence” seems ubiquitous nowadays. It represents an extremely efficient technology that is revolutionizing virtually all industries; the Canadian online gambling market is not an exception. Although the first associations related to AI in the context of online gambling are connected with the creation of new content, it performs one of its key functions far from the spotlight.
By 2026, AI will become an absolutely necessary means for ensuring consumer safety within the regulated gaming market.
If it’s fraud prevention or responsible gaming promotion, artificial intelligence is used by operators to increase the security level in the market. This task becomes especially relevant in the case of a regulated market like Ontario where consumer safety becomes a primary concern.
Let us have a closer look at the concrete applications of AI for this purpose.
Detecting and Preventing Fraud
Among the primary risks faced by any online website that conducts financial transactions is the risk of fraud. This can range from using stolen credit cards to more complicated cases of bonus abuse.
In the past, such activities could only be detected through manual analysis by the security team of the organization. However, modern technologies have brought about significant changes in how this challenge is handled.
The current generation of online gambling sites employs advanced algorithms that help monitor all activities conducted on the site in real-time. The algorithm is designed to detect any suspicious patterns that could indicate any malicious intent on the part of the user.
In addition, the program can examine several data points within seconds, identifying any abnormal behavior of the player. For instance, the AI may identify a situation where a player makes many deposits using different payment instruments.
This helps to address potential issues before they become problematic for the operator and the users of the platform.
Ensuring Fair Play
In order to ensure fairness in an online world that is full of competition, especially within a game such as poker, it is essential to keep cheating at bay. AI technology is being applied in order to do this.
One of the major issues that arises when it comes to online poker is the use of bots. Bots refer to computerized systems that play poker without a human being.
Using AI to protect a poker room includes using AI security measures that can distinguish the patterns in which bots play. AI can help identify other types of unfair plays such as collusion, where there is cooperation among players at the same table.
These AI security measures have the capability of analyzing the hand histories and patterns of play that would take human beings too long to do.
Promoting Responsible Gaming
The most important application of AI in the Canadian gaming industry could be seen as the area of responsible gaming. The gambling license holders should offer various instruments to help players control themselves, but the AI technology will allow taking a step further.
With the help of AI algorithms, licensed operators may learn to detect signs of gambling disorder based on specific patterns of playing. It is worth mentioning that AI technology is not meant to evaluate the gambler but analyze his behavior objectively.
For instance, the algorithm can warn the operator about a player who spends much more time or money than before, as well as someone who chases their losses.
Once the patterns are detected, the appropriate measures can be taken. For instance, an automated warning could be sent to the gambler informing about responsible gaming resources. If necessary, the player can be contacted by a person who has undergone special training for this purpose.
It can be considered a highly effective solution to make the gaming process safe.
A More Personalized and Secure Experience
Furthermore, AI is employed in creating a customized and safer environment for players and currently, many platforms utilize AI algorithms to provide personalized suggestions regarding games.
By analyzing the preferences of the user and the kinds of online slots in Canada they like, the system can make recommendations on other games they would enjoy playing. Thus, users have the opportunity to explore new games and get greater satisfaction from using the platform.
Regarding security, the technology is also used in order to make the login process more secure. Many platforms currently utilize AI algorithms based on behavioral biometrics.
Thus, the system identifies unique patterns of a specific user, including how he/she types or moves the mouse and in case somebody tries to log in under someone else’s name, the algorithm detects unusual behavior and initiates extra verification procedures.
Final Thoughts
There is no denying that artificial intelligence is quietly working in the background to ensure the safety of Canadian gamers.
From fraud and cheating detection to the benefits of promoting responsible gambling, the application of AI is aiding the development of a more reliable gaming industry.
With new developments expected in the future regarding AI, the industry will continue to benefit from this technology and this is indeed good news for all Canadians who enjoy online gaming as entertainment.
Features
A Jewish farmer broke ground on a synagogue in an Illinois cornfield. His neighbors showed up to help.
By Benyamin Cohen May 8, 2026 “This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.”
Benyamin has been reporting for more than a year on the improbable story of Nik Jakobs. Catch up here and here, and stay tuned for a forthcoming piece about a trip they took to the Netherlands to visit the towns where the Jakobs family survived the Holocaust. Yesterday was an important moment in Jakobs’ overall journey, and we wanted to share it with you.
STERLING, ILLINOIS — On Wednesday, Nik Jakobs was planting corn. On Thursday, the 41-year-old Illinois cattle farmer stood in a two-acre cornfield preparing to plant something else: a synagogue.
Around 75 people gathered on the edge of the field this week in Sterling, Illinois, a two-hour drive west of Chicago, where Jakobs and his family broke ground on a new home for Temple Sholom, the small congregation that has anchored Jewish life here for more than a century, and where his family has prayed since the 1950s.
The planned 4,000-square-foot building will also house a Holocaust museum inspired by the story of Jakobs’ grandparents, Edith and Norbert, who survived the war after Christian families in the Netherlands hid them in their homes for years. Jakobs described the future museum as a place devoted not only to Jewish history, but to teaching the dangers of hatred and division. “If you have the choice to be right or kind,” he said, repeating advice from his grandmother, “choose kind.”
A 60-foot blue ribbon — chosen by Jakobs’ wife, Katie, to match the color of the Israeli flag — stretched across the future building site. His four daughters held it alongside his parents, brothers and friends. Then they lifted oversized gold scissors and cut the ribbon as pastors, farmers, city officials and members of neighboring churches applauded.
The synagogue rising from this Illinois cornfield will house pieces of the past.
A nearby storage area holds Jewish objects Jakobs rescued from shuttered synagogues across the country: stained-glass windows, Torah arks, rabbi’s chairs, memorial plaques and wooden tablets engraved with the tribes of Israel. Many came from Temple B’nai Israel, a 113-year-old synagogue that closed down in 2025. It served generations of Jews in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, now a ghost town since the steel mills closed. Its remaining congregants donated sacred objects to Jakobs so their story could live on rather than disappear.
The day before the groundbreaking, the Jakobs family began opening some of the crates for the first time since they were packed away nearly a year ago. Nik’s father, Dave Jakobs, pried open one box with a hammer and crowbar while Nik loosened screws with an electric drill, the family gathered around like archaeologists opening a tomb.
Inside was a stained-glass window with images of a tallit and shofar bursting in jewel tones of blue, yellow and red. Jakobs’ mother, Margo, lifted Annie, the youngest of Nik’s daughters, so the 4-year-old could peer inside. The bright red glass matched the bow in her hair.
Nearby sat the massive wooden ark salvaged from Pennsylvania, topped with twin Lions of Judah whose carved paws once overlooked generations of worshippers.
Faith on the farmland
Temple Sholom — founded in 1910 — was once the center of Jewish life in Sterling, a town of 14,500 surrounded by flat farmland and tall grain silos. Its Jewish community once included a pharmacist, the manager of Kline’s department store and the owner of a local McDonald’s franchise.
Over time, membership dwindled. The roof sagged. The pews emptied.
Last year, the congregation sold its aging building and relocated High Holiday services to a tent on the Jakobs’ farm, where prayers mingled with the smell of manure and cattle lowing nearby.
At a moment when many small-town synagogues are closing, Temple Sholom is doing something increasingly rare: building a bigger new sanctuary from scratch. The synagogue will sit prominently along one of Sterling’s main roads — a highly visible expression of Jewish life in a region where Jews are few.
Thursday’s groundbreaking took place on the National Day of Prayer, the annual observance formalized under President Ronald Reagan, who grew up a few miles away in Dixon, Illinois. Earlier that morning, attendees gathered inside New Life Lutheran Church for a breakfast sponsored by Temple Sholom.
“I was so happy to see bagels, lox and cream cheese,” said Rev. James Keenan, a Catholic priest originally from Brooklyn. “It reminded me of home.”
Inside the church sanctuary, a large wooden cross glowed amber and blue above the dais while two giant screens displayed the National Day of Prayer logo. Jakobs, wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a powder-blue blazer, addressed the crowd.
“Tolerance is not weakness,” he said. “It is strength.”
The new synagogue will sit beside New Life Lutheran Church on land sold to Temple Sholom by farmer Dan Koster, 71, who has known the Jakobs family for three generations.
“We need more religious presence in the community,” Koster said.
For Drew Williams, New Life’s 38-year-old lead pastor, the synagogue and museum represent more than neighboring buildings. His church already hosts food-packing drives, summer meal programs and community events. He imagines future partnerships with Temple Sholom.
“I don’t think there’s any community that is immune to hate,” Williams said. “That just means it’s on us” to be on the other side “spreading peace.”
Sterling Mayor Diana Merdian, who is 41 and grew up in town with Jakobs, said the project reflects a broader desire among younger generations to preserve local history and identity. “If we don’t carry those stories, we lose them,” she said. “Once you lose that, you can’t get it back.”
During the ceremony in the cornfield, Temple Sholom’s longtime cantor, Lori Schwaber, asked those gathered to remember the congregation’s founding members and recite the Mourner’s Kaddish together. Jews and Christians stood side by side in the prairie wind as Hebrew prayers drifted across the open farmland.
Lester Weinstine, a 90-year-old congregant who was the first bar mitzvah at Temple Sholom when the shul was still housed out of a Pepsi bottling plant, looked out across the field in disbelief. “I never thought I would see this,” he said.
For Jakobs, the synagogue project has become inseparable from the lessons his grandparents’ survival taught him. “You sometimes feel on an island as a Jew, especially in rural America,” he said. “But this community — that’s not what I’ve experienced here.”
If construction stays on schedule, the synagogue will open in fall 2027. Its first major service will not be a dedication ceremony, but the bat mitzvah of Jakobs’ oldest daughter, Taylor.
Members of the Pennsylvania congregation are planning a bus trip to Illinois for the occasion, after donating many of their sacred objects to help build Jakob’s synagogue. Their former rabbi has offered to officiate.
“If a farmer can build a synagogue in a cornfield,” Jakobs said, “anybody can do it anywhere.”
Benyamin Cohen is a senior writer at the Forward and host of our morning briefing, Forwarding the News. He is the author of two books, My Jesus Year and The Einstein Effect.
This story was originally published on the Forward.