In the Shadow of Liberty: A Reflection on the Promise of the United States of America
Inevitably what comes to mind when I think about what it means to be a citizen of the United States of America, is a wonderful man named Gene Schoenfeld, may his memory and legacy forever be a blessing and a guide. Dr. Schoenfeld was a survivor of Birkenau, an ordeal that already commands respect. For him, however, the meaning of his life and his indelible Jewish identity was not found in the lost world which he carried with him and from which he shared generously, but in the present looking toward a new Judaism, a fusion of the refusal to lose what is distinctive in our peoplehood and a mission to bring justice and compassion to the world without boundary or border. When he passed away at the age of 93 about 5 years ago the world lost a special person and I lost a friend and mentor.
Why America? Once when I was leading services I forgot to ask the congregation to rise for the prayer for our country but instead did so before the prayer for Israel. Afterward he said that when you are in a country with a government you can pray for, you must never take it for granted. Either sit for both or rise for both, but do not stand for Israel without standing for the nation in which we live. The implication here was obvious: he had lived in countries taken over by totalitarian despots, governed for the sake of his and others' extermination without pretense. For those nations such a prayer can hardly be referenced. For the United States of America, under any leadership the blessing, a prayer for wise stewardship, justice and commitment to all of its inhabitants is an obligation.
For Gene, America was more than just a country that wasn’t Germany or Occupied Hungary. America was the place where he found a new life after several years in United Nations run DP camps and other places in a shattered Europe. His journey, like most journeys to a new world, was not easy. When he finally acquired a temporary passport, basically a three month visa to pursue his studies, he was sidelined when he answered a key question wrong. The immigration officer asked if he would like to extend his passport indefinitely and stay in the United States. He answered with enthusiasm that it would be an honor. This answer was a red flag that he might be intending to remain after the expiration of his visa. Instead of entering with the other temporary petitioners who knew to express contempt for remaining in this foreign place, he ended up in Ellis Island. Ellis Island was no longer the gateway whose hardships were about quarantine and processing before being allowed to enter. In 1948 the island housed an internment camp for those awaiting a decision of whether or not they will be part of the limited numbers allowed to enter or whether they would be deported. In his own words from his autobiography My Reconstructed Life: “I would live in the shadow of the symbol of liberty… so near to the country of my dreams yet still so far away… without a home and with my future in doubt.”
Eventually Gene entered the country and pursued his studies in St. Louis though as a Jew he was subject to discrimination and did not receive promised stipends and housing. He also encountered segregation and opted to join some of his friends in Black establishments rather than go to places he was permitted and his friends not. Even after years and having married an American born woman, he was only able to be granted an application toward permanent residence because of an executive order by President Truman that those whose residence had fallen behind the Iron Curtain would be eligible for naturalization. I was struck that despite Gene’s recognition of the blessing of the United States of America and affirmation that his children would know no other home he saw himself as “an immigrant who never developed a historical kinship with America” that even replacing enslavement in Europe with unimaginable freedom here it was “difficult to leave one’s birthplace and the emotions that the homeland has inculcated.”
My relationship with Dr. Schoenfeld was, of course, centered on his Jewish identity, his learnedness as well as his vision of a vital and transforming Judaism that would both elevate the soul and mend brokenness in the world. A favorite saying of his is that G*d created us as humans and our job was to add the extra e to make the world humane. His experience in life as a Jew in taught him just how cruel the world could be and his experience in America taught him how much more was possible and how much work it would take to get there.
On this Independence Day, I dedicate my prayers to the resilience, resourcefulness and vision of Dr. Schoenfeld: “Pour out your blessing upon this land, upon its inhabitants, upon its leaders, its judges, officers, and officials, who faithfully devote themselves to the needs of the public. Help them understand the rules of justice You have decreed, so that peace and security, happiness and freedom, will never depart from our land. ADONAI, G*d whose spirit is in all creatures, we pray that Your spirit be awakened within all the inhabitants of our land. Uproot from our hearts hatred and malice, jealousy and strife. Plant love and companionship, peace and friendship, among the many peoples and faiths who dwell in our nation. Grant us the knowledge to judge justly, the wisdom to act with compassion, and the understanding and courage to root out poverty from our land. May it be Your will that our land be a blessing to all who dwell on earth, and may You cause all peoples to dwell in friendship and freedom. Speedily fulfill the vision of Your prophets: “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” “For all of them, from the least of them to the greatest, shall know Me.” And let us say: Amen.”
