To the Editor:

I was very greatly interested in the article by Aaron M. Frankel called “Back to Eighty-Sixth Street” in the August COMMENTARY. Much of what he says is profoundly true. There is a self-contained attitude on the Eighty-Sixth Streets of America, but it is certainly not all due to fear and provincialism. There are difficulties in the world today forcing sensitive people in upon themselves. This sensitivity may not be evinced as a fastidious New England Brahmanism; as a matter of fact, it may, and does at times, evidence itself in a kind of brashness and gaucherie.

If the world were as democratic as Mr. Frankel assumes, the onus might well be on the Jews. But for the most part, the matter of the restricted life is still induced by the Gentile environment. There is a sense of not being wanted, a sense of difference which is not readily forgotten, even in free America. It would be a good thing if American Jewish life were integrated in such a way that it could maintain its uniqueness and still be psychologically adjusted to the general scene.

I agree with Mr. Frankel that if more Jews could feel at home in the mores of the majority, and at the same time, without a psychological wrench, maintain their Jewish integrity, there would be a more creative result. But Hitler and fascism have not been in the world without their effect upon Jews everywhere. Caution, a sense that the impossible may happen (it happened in Germany), have made many Jews psychologically tense. Most of us want to live as a people, and many of us today cannot rest with the certainty of our forbears in the authority of the Torah. The eagerness to ape our Gentile neighbors at their worst has ever been the pattern of some of the minority. We will to be Jews, partly because we are concerned with our own survival, and partly because we are not permitted, even if we wished, to be anything else.

The ambivalence of our cultural aim, in any place outside of Palestine, is unavoidable. It may be stressed in one epoch rather than another, but anywhere in which a full Jewish life is impossible, it must produce the phenomenon of uncertainty, despite the aggression and the consequent lack of direction in the great effort. The materialism of the American scene in general is reflected and perhaps exacerbated in the gilded ghetto.

The yearning of Israel for the things of the spirit on the one hand, and the comfort and the would-be safety of the fleshpots on the other, is merely throwing an American conflict into relief. Any thinking man must know that religious life in America in general is undergoing great changes and that the place of the church in the life of a community is not as well defined as it was in the days when the “sea of faith was at the full.” Judaism is no stranger to this problem of the breakdown of authority. There is no people whose fate is so inextricably linked with religion as that of Israel; but American Jewry, like America in general, is tainted with the virus of materialism and beset with the conflicts of the contemporary world.

By a curious coincidence I lived on Eighty-Sixth Street—No. 8, to be exact—for many years of my life. Perhaps times have changed. Perhaps most of Israel at the New York crossroads has become, in large part, encapsulated in its own affluent cocoon. The yardstick of Eighty-Sixth Street Jewry in the past was its indifference to—rather than its identity with—Jewry. . . .

Jews must be concerned with the lot of their fellow-men and fellow-Jews in other parts of the world. Unfortunately, on the one hand, they are not all statesmen—and on the other, like most middle-class people, they see the world in terms of their own problem: that is, the Jewish problem. Middle-class society, Jewish or non-Jewish, despite the war and desolation, tends to be narrow and confused, filled with conflicts, and riddled with guilts. What can one expect in a society saddled with the psychological responsibility of a world such as ours? War and destruction have always left their toll upon the minds of succeeding generations. Mr. Frankel speaks of “one world.” That “one world,” in order to be truly worthwhile, must be a world of cultural pluralism in which all racial and religious factors must contribute.

The present writer believes that Mr. Frankel’s desideratum will be more readily obtained by a Jewish community taught to understand itself. This means a Jewish community more—not less—Jewish. I believe that the old definition of a Jew, once quoted, still holds:“Jews are like everybody else, only more so.”

Rabbi Herbert I. Bloom
Kingston, New York

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To the Editor:

Writing [in the September COMMENTARY] about Aaron Frankel’s “Back to Eighty-Sixth Street,” Rabbi Eisenstein says, “Mr. Frankel happened to have the refreshing experience of meeting decent and fair non-Jews in the Army, and of avoiding any anti-Semitism.” The inference seems to be that Mr. Frankel’s experience was exceptional and contrary to the experience of most Jews who served in the armed forces during the war. Looking back on my thirty-three months in the Army, twenty-nine of them overseas, I must conclude that Rabbi Eisenstein is mistaken. . . .

It would be stupid to deny, of course, that anti-Semitism did exist in the Army. As a cross section of the American people, composed of men who came from all parts of the United States and brought with them their local prejudices and hatreds, the Army certainly had its share of anti-Semites. But it is my own guess that anti-Semitism existed to a lesser extent in the Army than it did in civilian life, because officially anti-Semitism was not tolerated. All of us probably came across unpleasant incidents in the course of our military careers; but a prejudiced officer or a loud-mouthed soldier does not necessarily mean that anti-Semitism was something a Jewish soldier met with every day of his army life. . . . Shall we stack up the vicious anti-Semitic first sergeant who was hated by all his men and the drunken anti-Semitic private who was a disgrace to his outfit, against the many decent men we lived and worked with every day?

Mr. Frankel’s pleasant memories are shared by many other Jewish soldiers. I came across several incidents in thirty-three months but I cannot, in all fairness, consider them typical of the pattern of army life as I knew it. I prefer to remember the warm friendships of my army life, almost all of them with non-Jews. We became friends, despite the wide variety of our backgrounds, because of compatibility of interests and temperament. Among my army friends there was an old-stock American Presbyterian from California, a devout Catholic of German stock from New York, an old-stock American Congregationalist from Connecticut, a Catholic of French-Canadian stock from Massachusetts, an Episcopalian of German stock from New Jersey. Stacked up against these men, the anti-Semites fade away into insignificance. I served as an enlisted man and I cannot recall an officer who showed anti-Semitism. On the other hand, I knew many fair and unbiased officers, with some of whom I have retained warm friendships that have carried on into civil life.

Mr. Frankel’s experience and my own were, I believe, in line with the experience of most Jews who served. It is important to retain a sense of perspective in assessing these matters. From the point of view of human relations, my experience in the Army was something I shall always cherish.

I should like to end with a word on anti-Negro prejudice. I did come across many vicious Negrophobes in the Army, and we spent many long hours of argument and discussion. At times I was deeply shocked by the open nakedness and brutality of this hatred. It was a vicious, sinister thing. But even this dark picture is not unrelieved by some rays of light. I did meet a few Southerners who were slightly more rational on the subject, and less bound by their bitter prejudice. There was the young Georgian who admitted that perhaps he was wrong but had been brought up to think that way; the young Alabaman who told me that he was prepared to give Negroes complete economic and political equality; and the North Carolinian who at least refrained from using the word “nigger” in my hearing.

Negrophobia poisoned human relationships in a great Army and impaired its efficiency tremendously. That is the true picture of this particular form of race hatred. But to present anti-Semitism as an active, persistent force in army life is an unfair presentation of the case.

Samuel H. Abraham
New York City