Rabbi Gittelsohn’s Iwo Jima Sermon
by Sheldon M. Young
The fight for Iwo Jima in 1945 was one of the bloodiest of World War
II. A tiny island in the Pacific dominated
by a volcanic mountain and pockmarked with caves Iwo Jima was the setting for a five-week, nonstop battle
between 70,000 American Marines and an unknown number of deeply entrenched Japanese defenders. The
courage and gallantry of the American forces, climaxed by the dramatic raising of the American flag over Mt.
Suribachi, is memorialized in the Marine Corps monument in Washington, D.C. Less well-remembered,
however, is that the battle occasioned an eloquent eulogy by a Marine Corps rabbi that has become an American
classic.
Rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn (1910-95), assigned to the Fifth Marine Division, was the first Jewish chaplain the
Marine Corps ever appointed. The American invading force at Iwo Jima included approximately 1,500 Jewish
Marines, and Rabbi Gittelsohn was in the thick of the fray, ministering to Marines of all faiths in the combat
zone. He shared the fear, horror and despair of the fighting men, each of whom knew that each day might be his
last. Roland Gittelsohn's tireless efforts to comfort the wounded and encourage the fearful won him three service
ribbons.
When the fighting was over, Division Chaplain Warren Cuthriell, a Protestant minister, asked Rabbi Gittelsohn
to deliver the memorial sermon at a combined religious service dedicating the Marine Cemetery. Cuthriell
wanted all the fallen Marines (black and white, Protestant, Catholic and Jewish) honored in a single,
nondenominational ceremony. Unfortunately, racial and religious prejudice was strong in the Marine Corps, as it
was then throughout America. According to Rabbi Gittelsohn's autobiography, the majority of Christian
chaplains objected to having a rabbi preach over predominantly Christian graves The Catholic chaplains, in
keeping with church doctrine opposed any form of joint religious service.
To his credit, Cuthriell refused to alter his plans. Gittelsohn, on the other hand, wanted to save his friend
Cuthriell further embarrassment and so decided it was best not to deliver his sermon. Instead, three separate
religious services were held. At the Jewish service, to a congregation of 70 or so who attended, Rabbi Gittelsohn
delivered the powerful eulogy he originally wrote for the combined service:
Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding. And other men
who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her
blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, Negroes and Whites, rich men and poor, together. Here are
Protestants, Catholics, and Jews together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him
because of his color. Here there are no quotas of how many from each group are admitted or allowed. Among
these men there is no discrimination. No prejudices. No hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest democracy...
Whosoever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother, or who thinks himself superior to those who happen to
be in the minority, makes of this ceremony and the bloody sacrifice it commemorates, an empty, hollow mockery.
To this then, as our solemn sacred duty, do we the living now dedicate ourselves: To the right of Protestants,
Catholics, and Jews, of White men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here
paid the price...
We here solemnly swear this shall not be in vain. Out of this and from the suffering and sorrow of those who
mourn this, will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.
Among Gittelsohn's listeners were three Protestant chaplains so incensed by the prejudice voiced by their
colleagues that they boycotted their own service to attend Gittelsohn's. One of them borrowed the manuscript
and, unknown to Gittelsohn, circulated several thousand copies to his regiment. Some Marines enclosed the
copies in letters to their families. An avalanche of coverage resulted. Time magazine published excerpts, which
wire services spread even further. The entire sermon was inserted into the Congressional Record, the Army
released the eulogy for short-wave broadcast to American troops throughout the world and radio commentator
Robert St. John read it on his program and on many succeeding Memorial Days.
In 1995, in his last major public appearance before his death, Gittelsohn reread a portion of the eulogy at the 50th
commemoration ceremony at the Iwo Jima statue in Washington, D.C. In his autobiography, Gittelsohn reflected,
“I have often wondered whether anyone would ever have heard of my Iwo Jima sermon had it not been for the
bigoted attempt to ban it.”
Sources: American Jewish Historical Society |