Chabad to Build Hillsboro’s First Synagogue

No one met Rabbi Menachem Rivkin at the airport the night he, his wife and 6-month-old twins flew from New York to Portland. No one brought a housewarming gift to their Hillsboro home or joined the family for Friday night prayers.

That was the point. Hillsboro was a city without a synagogue. Its grocery stores had no kosher sections. Jews wanting community, a chance to be themselves without explanation, had to drive to Portland.

In that void, Rivkin saw opportunity, a chance to create, from scratch, a home for Hillsboro Jews. When the plane touched down after a full day of traveling, Rivkin was eager to start immediately. He didn’t know a soul, but he had plans for a dozen different classes.

“I always want to spin the wheel faster than it naturally goes,” he says.

Rivkin has spent five years laboring to create that community. He is on the verge of reaching his greatest milestone yet: The city recently granted his congregation, Chabad Hillsboro, a permit to build Hillsboro’s first synagogue.

Like his father before him, Rivkin practices Chabad, a Hasidic movement that brings services to cities that lack a strong Jewish presence. He grew up in Israel and completed rabbinical studies in New York, where he met Rabbi Motti Wilhelm, whose father directs Chabad of Oregon. Hillsboro needed a Jewish community, Wilhelm told Rivkin.

Sometimes building a community takes no work at all.

As he strode across the Costco parking lot one afternoon soon after his arrival, Rivkin’s appearance caught the eye of a young blond boy. Rivkin is Orthodox: A full beard shades his face, a wide-brimmed Borsalino hat perches atop his head. He was only 25 when he arrived in 2007, but his dress gave him an ancient air.

“Hey,” then-7-year-old Aedan Mills-Koffel called across the parking lot. “I’m a Jew, too!”

Aedan introduced Rivkin to his grandfather, Richard Calbow, who manages Intel’s Bon Appetit cafe. The high-tech company was expecting a slew of temporary workers from Israel, Calbow told Rivkin.

The Intel Israelis gave his nascent effort, which he had christened Chabad Hillsboro, a boost. He started a Torah group to study the Hebrew Bible at Intel’s Jones Farm campus.

Within a year, the Rivkins had made enough contacts to justify opening a small Jewish center, called a shul. They bought a high-ceilinged house off Baseline Road and converted its detached garage into a space for Sunday school and Hebrew classes. For larger parties, the group rented hotel space.

Next, Rivkin persuaded local grocery stores to carry more kosher foods. He counseled couples through marriage and finances. When other Jews came to town, the Rivkins made them feel at home.

When Carolyn Taub Stearns moved here from Brooklyn in 2007, she worried she’d feel alone in Hillsboro.

“Out here, you can’t really tell if someone is Jewish or not Jewish,” she said. “You don’t see stores with Jewish things. You don’t see kosher restaurants. You feel even more isolated.”

The Rivkins changed that, she says. She searched online and found the Chabad. The rabbi’s wife, Chaya Rivkin, was leading a group dedicated to discussing the modern Jewish woman.

“It was like finding an oasis,” Taub Stearns said.

Though Portland has more-established congregations, she has stayed with the Rivkins. On Friday nights, the end of the Jewish week, the family opens their home to other Jews, sometimes fitting a dozen people around the dinner table.

“It is that simple,” Taub Stearns said. “They are just so nice. They want to be there for other people.”

The Chabad remains a small congregation, with 30 people expected to attend weekly services once the synagogue is completed. Though Rivkin is Orthodox, the most traditional form of Judaism, most in the group are not.

“We are here for all Jewish people,” Rivkin said, “for the people who are left behind, who have no other activities in Hillsboro.”

As the congregation increased, the Chabad last year bought a single-story house on Southwest Brookwood Avenue. In February, the city granted the conditional-use permit for it to become a synagogue.

First, the nonprofit group must raise $50,000 for renovations. The building needs a new foundation, roof and plumbing. Rivkin also wants to remove the garage and build a 2,000-square-foot classroom space.

The Rivkins receive no money from the umbrella Chabad group, they say. The family has supported itself through local donations and Chaya Rivkin’s salary as a teacher and curriculum director at Maimonides Jewish Day School in Portland. Still, they expect to begin construction early this summer.

Last week, a costumed crowd packed a meeting room at the Holiday Inn Express to celebrate Purim, one of the most joyful Jewish holidays. Chaya Rivkin was home with the couple’s fifth child, born only two nights before.

“Take your seat, if you can find one,” Rivkin said. “Thank God, for a good reason, we have run out of space.”

During Purim, a rabbi must read the “Megillah,” a story from the book of Esther. Usually, the reading takes about 45 minutes. Several families found spots on the floor. Others stood, jammed around the buffet table. Rivkin looked at the crowd and aimed for a speed-reading of 20 minutes.

He unrolled a handwritten scroll, speaking Hebrew so swiftly he sounded like an auctioneer. He swayed with fierce rhythm, occasionally breaking into song. Children danced near him. Wide-eyed mothers smiled. Fathers adjusted their yarmulkes. Rivkin finished the last line with a gasp of breath. A guy in the back called out his time: 17 minutes.

For once, the wheels moved just as fast as he wanted.