Shabbat Shalom,

Today marks 249 years of our independence as a nation.] We give thanks for the blessings of freedom, and we reflect on the founding ideals that have shaped America—ideals of liberty, justice, and equality.

For the Jewish community, one of the most powerful expressions of these principles came in 1790, when President George Washington wrote his historic letter to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, affirming what was then—and remains now—a revolutionary idea: that in America, religious liberty is not a favor granted to minorities, but a natural right guaranteed to all. He wrote:

“It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights.”

And most famously:

“The Government of the United States… gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.”

For generations, American Jews have held these words close to our hearts. They represented more than lofty rhetoric—they often reflected the reality we experienced. This country has been a haven. We have thrived here. We’ve built synagogues and schools, hospitals and cultural centers. We’ve contributed in every sphere—from the arts and sciences to politics and public service, to music and entertainment.

But this year, many of us are struggling. We feel the rise of antisemitism—in the media, on campuses, in casual speech and violent acts. We are witnessing a resurgence of old hatreds, now repackaged and circulated with alarming ease.

Some of us are asking:
Will we feel fully at home again?
Will our children walk safely and confidently as Jews in America?
Is this still a place where bigotry is given no sanction, where persecution receives no assistance?

These are real and painful questions. And we know we are not alone in them. Many others—including immigrant families and asylum seekers—also wonder whether this land of promise will remain a place where they can live in safety, contribute with dignity, and hope for a better future.

Etched into the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia is a verse from the Torah:

וּקְרָאתֶ֥ם דְּר֛וֹר בָּאָ֖רֶץ לְכׇל־יֹשְׁבֶ֑יהָ

“Proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.”  (Leviticus 25:10)

Our Torah—our truth—is literally inscribed into the American story. It reminds us that freedom is sacred. That justice is divine. That the American promise and the Jewish vision are deeply intertwined.

May we continue to thrive in this beautiful Diaspora—this goldene medina (“land of promise”)—that has been a refuge for generations.
May this country remain a loyal ally to the State of Israel and a home where all people can live in dignity and peace.

May liberty and justice not only be ideals but lived realities.
And may we experience the blessing with which Washington concluded his letter, quoting the Hebrew prophet Micah:

“That the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.”

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi

The photo of the building with the green dome is the Morristown Jewish Center where the Mintzes were among its leadership. We joined the Reform Congregation in Town, called B’nai Or.  The contemporary building shown here was the second home of the congregation, which my family helped to build.  I lived in the Washington Valley region of Morristown where the Daughters of the American Revolution held regular meetings in 18th and 19th century historic structures. For a more detailed review of my hometown’s history look here.

This was my childhood American dream.  A strong and comfortable Jewish community nestled in the wooded hills of an historic American town.  In seventh grade, the son of Italian immigrants and beloved teacher, Joe Bellomo, introduced us to American Revolutionary history by inviting us to re-enact significant moments: the unendurable repression imposed by the British, the proceedings of the Continental Congress, the drafting of the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights. He made American history, our history.  Many of us were the children and grandchildren of immigrants, some were Jewish, others Black, Asian, Latino; in seventh grade Mr. Bellomo made sure that we all learned what it meant to be Americans.

Joe Bellomo (and living in this bastion of Colonial history) taught us about the founding principles of our nation.  He taught us about the dark days of slavery, the necessity of the Civil War, the continuing battles for Civil Rights. He made us proud patriots and opened the doors for us to understand and embrace American democracy.  He taught us that the very soil of our hometown resonated with the footsteps of those who fought for the uniquely American version of freedom.

As we recognize the 249th year of our country’s birth, during a time when many of us are feeling a bit insecure as Jews in this nation, I share this brief vignette of my own American story as a testament of sorts to reflect how Jews and all immigrants are woven into the fabric of this country in ways not manifest in other nations. Though we cannot ignore the challenges, and this country surely has its own history of antisemitism and hostility to immigrants, America is guided by a truly unique moral compass that calls us toward our destined path even when we stray. It may take a generation or more, it may be difficult for individuals at any given time to imagine that we can course-correct, however, the nearly 250-year long arc of our country’s history assures us that we can still believe in the American Dream. Happy Fourth!

—Rabbi Ron Stern