U.S. needs refugees as much as they need us

By Jonathan Morgenstein

Tuesday, April 26, 2016 | 2 a.m.

What does it mean to be an American? To me, it means to exist at all.

A family friend recently sent my mother an article from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, published Nov. 25, 1910. It describes a “Wolf Izwasczikow” waiting desperately at Ellis Island to hear from his brother in Chicago or sister and brother-in-law in Brooklyn. For immigration officials to admit him to the United States, Wolf needed his relatives to prove they had enough money to support him.

When Wolf’s sister found out, she raced to grab her husband and then sped to the immigrant station to produce the monetary evidence. By the time the Daily Eagle went to print, it was unclear if she had acted in time and if Wolf would be admitted — or deported back to Russia, where he faced certain execution for having fled being drafted into the Russian Imperial Army.

As a child, I never knew anyone by the name “Wolf Izwasczikow.” But it’s because my great-grandfather Willie Essikoff (sometimes also endearingly called “Grandpa Mustache”) wasn’t deported back to face Russian execution, and instead found refuge in the United States, that I exist at all today, along with my siblings, mother, uncle, cousins and so on.

I exist because the United States gave my family refuge. I am certain ours is not the only family that literally owes our lives to our country. Especially in this season of Passover, as Jews across the United States celebrate the ancient Hebrews’ escape from slavery in Egypt, I hope Jewish (and non-Jewish) Americans pause to reflect on the past year’s debates regarding the Syrian refugee crisis.

The traditional Passover ceremony, called the Seder, follows a guidebook called the Haggadah. One of the iconic stories in the Haggadah tells parents how to teach four types of children about the story and meaning of Passover. To the youngest child, parents are to fulfill the commandments of Exodus 13:8: “You shall tell your son on that day, saying, ‘It is because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.’” Thus the Seder tasks us to live as if we ourselves were rescued from Egypt, not just on that day, but instead, as Deuteronomy 16:3 elaborates, to “remember the day when you went out of the land of Egypt all the days of your life.”

This mandate is a (if not the) central lesson of one of the most important events in the Jewish calendar. However, many, if not most, of us Jewish-Americans (as well as millions of other Americans) don’t need to reach back 5,000 years through the mists of time and latch on to the words of ancient texts. Instead, we can remember the very tangible significance of the Statue of Liberty and the United States to our great-grandparents, grandparents or even parents to realize our solemn obligation to continue fulfilling our country’s exceptional mission in history.

If America had turned away my great-grandfather Willie, he would have been deported and killed. I wouldn’t have been born. How can I — how can we — the immediate progeny of Jewish (and Irish, Chinese, Ukrainian, Cuban, Salvadoran, Sudanese, Vietnamese, Indian, Afghan ...) refugees do anything but ardently support America as a refuge for today’s Wolf Izwasczikows? Without America, I wouldn’t exist at all. But if the United States weren’t the welcoming home for all of us children of refugees otherwise doomed to death, America wouldn’t exist at all, either. Refugees need America, and America needs itsrefugees.

Jonathan Morgenstein is a Marine Corps veteran and a fellow at the Truman National Security Project, and a founder and CEO of Empowerment Solar, a for-profit social business designing and installing distributed solar electric systems for Palestinian businesses in the West Bank. He wrote this for insidesources.com.