They immigrated from Russia and Lithuania in the early years of the twentieth century in order to escape the pogroms, anti-Semitism, and poverty of Eastern Europe. They wanted to make a better life for themselves and their children here, in America.

However, although they were not religious there was never any doubt about their Jewish identities. Their Jewishness completely informed their lives and came through in everything they did. They read Jewish newspapers, spoke Yiddish to their friends, worried about other Jews, and lamented their grandchildren dating non-Jews.

Even during such secular holidays as New Year’s, my grandmother insisted on cooking and serving Jewish food. (I cannot imagine what it would be like watching the ball drop in Times Square while feasting on brisket, kisheke and tsimes!)

Their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren are another story. Today most of their relationships with Judaism, the Jewish community and Jewish cultural are tenuous or nonexistent. They were not raised in the shtetles of Europe. They were raised in America, a land of freedom and opportunity.

After the seventh plague Moses once again approached Pharaoh. He asked that the Israelites be allowed to leave Egypt to worship God, and prophesied the upcoming plague of locusts. Pharaoh’s advisors begged Pharaoh to reconsider and to let the Israelites go.

Pharaoh finally told Moses to go, but then in almost the same breath had second thoughts: "‘Go, worship the Lord your God! Who are the ones to go?’" (Ex. 10:8)

"Moses replied, ‘We will all go, young and old; we will go with our sons and daughters, our flocks and herds; for we must observe the Lord’s festival.’" (Ex. 10:9)

Pharaoh, fearing the loss of his slaves, refused to let all of the Israelites go. Moses was not about to leave the women and children behind, so he left Pharaoh’s presence and the plague of locusts descended on Egypt.

One Biblical commentator noted that when Moses responded to Pharaoh he did not employ the usual and deferential custom of speaking of the elderly before the young. Rather he said "We will all go, young and old," putting the youth in front of their elders.

He explained that Moses meant no affront to the elders, but when it came to leaving Egypt, he was much more concerned about the young than he was about the old. The adult generation of Israelites had grown up steeped in Judaism. They knew who they were and recognized their connections and destiny. A few more years living in a foreign culture would be difficult, but they would not forsake Judaism. It was in their bones.

The young, however, were another story. Not having grown up with strong Jewish roots, but rather as slaves, they were in danger of assimilating into Egyptian culture and being lost to their faith and culture. The sooner they got out of Egypt, the better! (Sefer Da’at Chachamim, Parshat Bo, p. 42)

It is no small irony that those of us who live in a free country face the same challenges to our Jewish identities as did our enslaved ancestors. Most Jews living in America today did not grow up with the same strong religious and cultural ties to Judaism as did their immigrant ancestors. They have grown up in American culture. As population survey after a population survey demonstrates, the further a family gets from their immigrant ancestors roots the more likely that Judaism will play minimal to nonexistent roles in their lives.

Most of us do not live in strong and intense Judaism neighborhoods and communities. We live in mixed neighborhoods filled with people of diverse religious and cultural background. No longer will our children and grandchildren become Jewish through osmosis.

Only a strong and intense personal commitment to leading our lives as knowledgeable, observant, and committed Jews will help assure the future of Judaism in America, as well as the religious and cultural identities of our children and grandchildren.