No one is lonely when doing a good deed;

For a Mitzvah is where God and mortals meet.

(Abraham J. Heschel)

 

Almost a century and a half ago, two Jewish partners ran a dry goods store in Cabarrus County, North Carolina. Koopman, Phelps & Co. opened in Concord, but the owners didn't stay long. By 1865, the firm was out of business and off the historical record. Five years later, Julius Israel opened a general store in Concord. Sadly, the terrible depression of 1873 closed down the second-known example of local Jewish merchandising.

Other Jewish folks probably found their way in and out of Cabarrus County in the last century or so. But so far as anyone knows, there has never been even the slightest sign of any organized Jewish community in the area. No services with prayers, praise, and song in Hebrew. No multi-family holiday celebrations, no tables laden with traditional Jewish foods. Not enough folks to link hands and dance the hora. No "yiddishkeit."

Shortly after I moved to Concord in 1993, I started joking around with my husband, Ralf. "I'm the only one in town," I'd say in an exaggerated, mock whisper.

Some ten years later, I was making the same joke. After a decade looking and listening for evidence to the contrary, I'd almost come to believe that my little family constituted the only Jews in Concord. Then, in the spring of 2003, I met Brian Cutler, a Jewish transplant who hailed from the Northeast. One day, over coffee (Brian) and tea (me), we wondered aloud if we could find just a few other Jewish or interfaith families - enough to make it possible to organize a Passover seder, celebrate Hanukah, or conduct a modest Friday night service.

Brian had not yet lived long enough in the county to decide that we were the only odd fish in our local sea of Christian faiths. He suggested we find out.

I'd been writing a column for a local paper for nine years, so I checked with my editor, told our story, and asked the question: were there other Jewish and interfaith families out there?

Six months later, Havurat Olam was born. Its founders had a vision: to build a socially aware and spiritually vibrant Jewish community. We began by building a community - one that would offer everything we needed to live Jewishly - social events, services, a religious school, and adult education classes. We began dreaming of the first Hanukah and Purim celebrations to be held in the county, the first High Holy Day services, the first bar or bat mitzvah.

We knew what we wanted: a havurah that encourages members to help determine the shape of every service and every celebration, that offers openness and welcome to families, that explores outreach and social action.

And here, in Cabarrus County, we got it.


Dr. Barbara Thiede

 - rabbinic intern -