A Patriot Grows Up In Morristown

I grew up in Morristown, New Jersey, which is most famous as the military capital of the American Revolution.  The photo of the colonial era white building was George Washington’s military Headquarters which I passed almost daily. Not far from my home we’d hike, sled, and party near Jockey Hollow which had reconstructed barracks used by the American Colonial Army.

I attended Morristown High School, pictured in all its boring mid-century glory, above.  Our school’s mascot was the “Colonials,” and we’d often wear the Revolutionary three-cornered hats to football games. We were drawn to Morristown because my mother’s family, the Mintzes, had long established ties to the region. My uncles were a doctor, a judge, and a realtor in town.

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