A Second Generation, Octogenarian, Jewish American

Let’s make sure you understand all the words in the title of this essay. They, of course, refer to me, the author of this piece. Alas, octogenarian is clear – I have been sentient for more than 8 decades on this planet. Second generation refers to my ancestry in the United States. My grandparents emigrated from Poland; my parents were born in the United States – ergo, second generation. Now let’s consider the final two descriptors: Jewish and American. The meaning of each is evident – I am a citizen of the USA; and I practice  and adhere to the Jewish faith. (I  also satisfy the classical definition – I was born to a Jewish mother.)

Note there are three adjectives (‘Second Generation’, Octogenarian’, and ‘Jewish’) and one noun (‘American’). But perhaps you detect an ambiguity, or more accurately, a choice. I might have written American Jew instead of Jewish American. That is, instead of describing myself as an American who happens to be Jewish, I might have referred to myself as a Jew who happens to be an American.

Truth be told, I have vacillated between the two most of my life. Much of the time, I considered myself an American, who happened to be Jewish. But at times – usually instigated by events in Israel, although at times in America – I would think of myself in the reverse orientation – that is, a Jew who happened to be an American. And indeed, this is one of those times.

The catastrophic events that have befallen the Jewish people in the last half year have made the choice for me. It is clear that, however I define myself, a tremendous proportion of the world’s population – were they asked to provide a description – would consider me a Jew who happens to be an American.

Which leads me to the point of this essay. Almost anywhere a Jewish person happens to be in this world, the local people will affix the label ‘Jew’ to him and identify him as such before they acknowledge his nationality. The people of the word are fixated on Jews. They think about us, evaluate us, attribute to us certain (less than flattering) traits, blame events on us, fear us, hate us and frequently scheme to banish and/or exterminate us. Whether I think of myself as a Jewish American or an American Jew is immaterial to the folks. To many (most?) of them, I am an American Jew – perhaps a fellow citizen, one whom they might even admire or value – but ultimately, a Jew.

I don’t think I appreciated that previously. But the events – both here and abroad – of the past six months have brought it home in a crushingly painful and transparent manner.

However, I am happy to be able to say that – until recently – I have encountered almost no antisemitism in my life. Oh, there were one or two instances  — in which an institutional decision went against me – wherein I wondered whether antisemitism might have played a role. But there was never any concrete evidence of such; and in most instances, it was probably a false alarm, instigated by my a priori knowledge of historical, institutional antisemitism.

Now I have been fortunate and privileged to live a long, prosperous, healthy and happy life. I had and have a wonderful and devoted family, many close and cherished friends, and talented and cooperative colleagues and co-workers. Of these three groups, all of the first are/were Jewish; most of the second were also Jewish; and a substantial number of the third were too. But I think that all of them – indeed of the vast majority of people who have crossed paths with me in my life – knew that I was a Jew…and of course also an American. No matter…I was both; no one bothered to think about which was a noun and which was an adjective.

Or so I thought. But things have changed in the last few months. Blatant, overt and flagrant expressions of antisemitism emanate from: the nation’s elite educational institutions, portions of the media, the halls of big business, and in labor unions, foundations, cultural institutions and other organizations – especially if dominated by the progressive left.

It is mind-boggling to me – in at least three senses. First, that this ancient disease continues to rear its ugly head – nearly three millennia since its inception. Second, despite incessant recitations of ‘never again’ since the holocaust, here it is. And third, that its grotesque appearance is rampant in the ‘enlightened’ West – even in the United States.

I lived almost all of my life with little thought or worry about antisemitism. Which squares with my happy life. How cruel that in my ninth decade on this planet, I must now worry about it. And I do:

• During shul on Shabbat (synagogue on Saturday for the gentile audience), I cannot help but plot my path to the nearest exit should an attack occur.
• My Magen David (Jewish Star) is tucked under my shirt rather than displayed on my chest.
• I wouldn’t dream of wearing my kippa (skull cap) in public outside shul.
• And worst of all, I’m thinking twice about the wisdom of publishing this essay – although I expect the readership will probably be largely Jewish….right?

I am so glad that my grandparents came to America. I love America. I love being an American. But I also love being Jewish. I treasure the spirituality, the history, the literature, the philosophy, the ceremony, the morality, the brotherhood, and the code of life. Yet I also love the Constitution and the freedom it affords me. I love the beauty and grandeur of the American continent, America’s magnificent accomplishments and its devotion to the protection of liberty. Incidentally, when I say ‘accomplishments,’ I am thinking not only of defeating fascism and communism, but also of providing a  laboratory – that is, the society – in which the citizens are free to govern themselves.

How fortunate am I to be a member of these two great civilizations – the USA and Am  Yisrael (the people of Israel). What a blessing to have the choice – equally valued, i.e.., to be a Jewish American or an American Jew. That I am losing the choice is a tragedy.

Ron Lipsman

April, 2024

Potomac, Maryland