With Jewish American Heritage Month upon us, I think a lot about how integral both aspects are to my identity. And it makes me think of my parents.
My father grew up in a time where there was rampant Anti-Semitism, not just here but also abroad and in the pogroms from which his family had escaped. He knew hatred and poverty intimately. He couldn’t pursue the career he wanted because of a lack of funds for education. With five siblings to support, he selflessly worked from the age of nine and eventually built a successful business in clothing manufacturing.
My mother experienced vision impairment, which inspired her to raise money for the Federation for the Blind and to donate her time to B’nai Brith to build hospitals. She would often arrange transportation and accommodation to the hospital for people who could not afford care.
There is a Jewish obligation of tikkun olam, which means “repairing the world.” My parents constantly demonstrated to me that I can and should try to repair the world by giving money, time, kindness, and being neighborly. I also saw my father run his business with tikkun olam in mind.
Once, my father discovered an employee he admired and trusted had been stealing from him for years. We were not well-off, and that money would have meant a lot to us and to the operation of the business. Like my mother, my father was not inclined to be a victim, nor was he malicious. He confronted the employee and found out she herself was struggling to provide for her children. Her abusive, alcoholic spouse regularly squandered their money. She was ashamed and heartbroken to have committed this crime.
My parents thought long and hard, and instead of bitterness or self-righteousness, they remembered their own struggles. They knew poverty. They knew persecution. They knew violence. And if they pressed charges on the employee for embezzlement, what would happen to her children? The money was already gone; there was no benefit to inflicting further suffering. So, they quietly let the employee go and did not prosecute the crime. In that small town, many employees were related or old friends, and those who remained at the factory were forever loyal to my father.
In every way, my parents taught me that what you put into the world will come back to you. They taught me to be grateful to this country, to replace bitterness with compassion, and to lead with integrity. Those things, they showed, can repair the world. So everyday I wake up and come to work as a Jewish American who has tikkun olam in her heart.
