Jews can claim credit for some of the world’s most valuable inventions—Google, pacemakers, Adam Sandler, stainless steel, Barbie, aspirin. But perhaps their most overlooked contribution? The United States of America itself.
Haym Salomon, a Sephardic Jew, was not merely a financier of the American Revolution—he was its unseen pillar, a man whose Judaism was not incidental to his heroism, but inseparable from it. His belief in tzedakah (charity) and tikkun olam (repairing the world) guided his every act, and it was through these deeply held values that he helped birth our nation.
Salomon was never one to stay put. As imperial powers carved up Poland in 1770, he fled to London, then to New York City, where he joined the fight for freedom. He soon became a member of the Sons of Liberty, a secret society dedicated to upending British rule, and was quickly named a leader in the war for independence. Being a devout Jew in a predominantly Christian world, he lived and breathed the fight for dignity, survival, and the right to exist freely.
In 1776, the British arrested Salomon for espionage. Fluent in Polish, French, German, Russian, Spanish, and Italian, he charmed his way out of prison by offering his services as a translator for Hessian soldiers. But instead of aiding the British, he used his position to free American prisoners, convince Hessian troops to desert, and funnel intelligence to the revolutionary cause, working alongside spies like Hercules Mulligan and Cato. The chutzpah was biblical in scale.
He was able to keep his true motives concealed for two years. When his American loyalty was exposed in 1778, he was sentenced to death. This time, his escape was nothing short of miraculous. Salomon’s survival can only be explained as a divine combination of cunning, persuasion, and sheer luck. Following the precedent of his heritage, he fled to safety, reinventing himself yet again. It was in Philadelphia that he sowed the seeds that would soon sprout the roots of the Revolution.
Between 1781 and 1784, he raised over $650,000 (nearly $20 million today) for the Continental Army, brokering loans, selling bonds, and often reaching into his own pockets to keep the fight for independence alive. No battle was won without resources, and few resources were available without Salomon. When George Washington prepared for the decisive battle at Yorktown, the Continental Congress was broke, with the army teetering on the edge of mutiny. Washington turned to Robert Morris, the Superintendent of Finance, with a desperate plea: “Send for Haym Salomon.” Within days, he secured the $20,000 Washington needed to launch the campaign that would win the war.
But Salomon’s giving did not stop when the war ended. He provided personal loans to struggling members of Congress—often with no expectation of repayment—and poured his wealth into Jewish causes. He helped establish Mikveh Israel, now known as the oldest continuous synagogue in the United States, and served as treasurer of America’s first Jewish charitable organization. He understood that a free nation could only stand on the foundation of its people’s freedom of expression. And so he gave—freely, endlessly, and with the faith that his adopted country would one day honor its debts.
Yet America never did. Salomon died penniless in 1785 at just 44 years old, his family left destitute. The country he had sacrificed everything for never repaid him, instead choosing to forget the man who had bankrolled its independence. It was a betrayal of the highest order, a grim irony that he had given his fortune to a nation that would leave him out of their history books.
His story forces us to ask: What do we owe those who give without expectation? For Salomon, justice wasn’t about reward, it was a sacred duty. Haym Salomon exemplified true heroism—which lies not in the pursuit of glory but in the quiet, unwavering commitment to a cause greater than oneself. America’s freedom was won by people like Salomon. The least we can do is remember his name. And perhaps, in some way, repay the debt.
Cover Image- Haym Salomon, Sketch (bust) by C. Noar., available via Flickr
