January 16, 2026
When a synagogue burns, part of my soul goes up in flames too. That is the price of being a Jew and part of the Jewish people. Wherever a Jew suffers, we all suffer. Last Shabbat, we opened the book of Exodus and we read of Moses turning aside to see a bush burning but not consumed. In the dark hours of the night, a synagogue was set ablaze, and by the time the first rays of light brightened the morning sky, a library that once witnessed laughter and learning had been consumed by the flames of hate. Beth Israel of Jackson, Mississippi is the largest synagogue in the state and is also home to the Institute for Southern Jewish Life, an institution that has preserved Jewish life in the South for generations. Jackson is also home to nearby URJ Camp Jacobs, the Reform Movement’s summer that serves much of the Jewish South.
During Shabbat, my social media feed was filled with stories and memories of how this small but mighty congregation had touched the lives of so many people I know. The synagogue was served by many student rabbis who studied at HUC in Cincinnati. All of these connections deepened the closeness I felt to this tragedy.
Why does this hurt so much? There is something that we, the Jewish community, feel so deeply that many outside of it struggle to understand. The pain of such a tragic moment pierces our souls because we know people directly hurt by this antisemitic attack. And if we do not, it is the intergenerational trauma we have inherited from centuries of hatred our ancestors endured. We also imagine ourselves sitting in our own temple libraries—studying sacred texts, recounting our Jewish story, or engaging in prayer. When our sacred spaces are vandalized, it is an attack on our identity, our sense of security, and the place we call home.
On Sunday afternoon, I slowly walked through the dark halls of the United States Holocaust Memorial and Museum with our Confirmation (10th grade) students. We saw video and still images of the fires of Kristallnacht, as well as a desecrated Torah scroll from the Holocaust. Nearly 90 years later, the images haven’t changed.
When I learned of the Beth Israel fire, my initial reaction was anger, which quickly turned to pain and sadness, as if I had stepped into a storm cloud. It pains me that the embers of hate still burn so deeply within the souls of people who may be our neighbors. Even after all the work we have done, propaganda videos online are more than just words—they feed embers and turn them into flames that spark fires destroying our sacred spaces. The loss of Torah scrolls—carrying the words of our people, read aloud for generations, inspiring us to love our neighbors, care for the orphan, the widow, and the stranger, reminding us that we are all made in God’s image, and commanding us to be holy—is beyond tragic. One of the scrolls that survived was one that survived the Holocaust. Thank God! The former rabbi of the synagogue shared photos sent to him just weeks ago of children learning in that library. He posted those photos alongside images of the library charred by fire. The contrast is striking.
Out of the fire of the Burning Bush emerged the voice of God. This community is no stranger to terror, having been bombed fifty years ago. As Jews, we rebuild. Just as being targets of hate is part of DNA, so too is our resilience. We are an ever-living people, and we have survived for millennia, even as countless forces sought to destroy us. We will continue to survive, and we will rebuild again. Perhaps the most inspiring part of this tragic story is the many churches that reached out to their Jewish neighbors in Jackson and offered space to worship and learn. In fact, on Sunday morning, the children of Beth Israel gathered to learn once more. The destructive flames cannot extinguish the eternal flame that burns in the heart of the Jewish soul.
So many of us were touched by this awful tragedy because we feel it so personally. We are all Beth Israel. If you would like to join me in donating to Beth Israel’s rebuilding efforts, please go to their website www.bethisraelms.org to find a donation link.
As we enter Shabbat this evening and sing the words of V’shamru, we will be reminded of the eternal covenant God established with the Jewish people. The threads of the covenant bind us tightly to one another. We pray that the sacred connection of the Jewish people brings Beth Israel of Jackson strength and love as they rebuild. May we all know that we care and support one another through these difficult moments.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Rick Kellner