Being the First Jew They’ve Known Ain’t for Sissies

By Joel H. Cohen

Joel H. Cohen

NEW YORK — Going back 70 years, three different people told me I was the first Jew they had ever met.

A fellow soldier from New England was the first with the news; the second, another New Englander, was a reporter with me on a Manhattan-based trade newspaper; and the third, a young woman from Colorado whom my wife and I met on vacation on an island (not Staten) who made the announcement to us that we were her “firsts.”

All those relationships went smoothly, and, for countless years, the young woman sent us greeting cards on Rosh Hashanah.

Still, at best, being the recipient of such “first-Jew”news imposes a heavy burden. especially if, like me, your ethnic insecurity caused you to overtip when paying a bill by credit card, because the amount would be visible next to an obviously Jewish last name. Heaven forbid if we should contribute to a “cheap-Jew” stereotype.When told I was the first of my people they’d ever met, my reaction resembled that of the fictional man ordered to ride in a handcart to the guillotine “If not for the honor,” he observed, “I’d rather walk.”

I feel the same way about being the one whose words, deeds and seeming attitudes are about to be judged to reflect that of an entire people.

Sometimes the challenge comes from other Jews.

For example, years ago on Staten Island, veterans organizations–American Legion, Veterans of Foreign Wars, etcetera —  would rotate leadership of the annual patriotic anniversary parade.

That year, it was the turn of the Jewish War Veterans to lead the march, and the commander said he was calling all Jews who had served to march that year “so they wouldn’t think Jews hadn’t done their part.”

It struck me as a wild notion on two counts: First, when would we stop acting to. pacify or satisfy them? And secondly, there wasn’t the slightest doubt that Jews had done their part

Although I and many contemporaries were too young to serve in World War II, but were of age for the Korean conflict (and I never went overseas or saw combat in my three years of service), I knew of dozens of Jewish Staten Islanders who saw combat, some of whom were wounded or died in action. In fact, two of my future sisters-in-law were war widows,

The limitations of my military experience didn’t matter to the caller. who, above all, wanted a good numerical turnout.     

As a lover of parades — as a watcher not a marcher — my feelings about marching that day were definitely mixed. On the one hand, I didn’t feel I belonged; on the other, they needed me.
               
Eventually I decided to march, and it was fine.

But that nagging thought persists.   For how long, and for how many reasons, valid and otherwise, do we do things, not because we should but because of what we think they will judge them
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Maybe the answer is to do the right thing or the right reasons — very possibly rooted in Jewish ethics …and they, too, will approve.
       
Recently, as I’ve gained years and lost steps, a city agency gifted me with an aide to help with household chores. The young woman happens. to be a Muslim — the first I’ve ever met.

Muslims are expected to pray five times a day, and on this particular day, the young woman had missed sayIng the fifth prayer.  She asked if I minded if she prayed, and I, of course I said to go ahead, so, she put on her hijab (head covering) and., for about five minutes or so, silently prayed…. a few feet away from where in the next few days I’d be lighting Chanukah candles and singing Chanukah songs.
   

It was a pretty neat scene, and I couldn’t help wondering : how many Jewish households in the USA included a Muslim woman at prayer?  It doesn’t seem at all like a bad idea.

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Joel H. Cohen is a freelance writer based in New York City.