Christianity and Resistance in the 20Th Century International Studies in Religion and Society

Christianity and Resistance in the 20th Century International Studies in Religion and Society

Editors Lori G. Beaman and Peter Beyer, University of Ottawa

VOLUME 8 Christianity and Resistance in the 20th Century

From Kaj Munk and Dietrich Bonhoeffer to Desmond Tutu

Edited by Søren Dosenrode

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2009 Cover design: Celine Ostendorf

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Christianity and resistance in the 20th century : from Kaj Munk and Dietrich Bonhoeffer to Desmond Tutu / edited by Søren Dosenrode. p. cm. — (International studies in religion and society, ISSN 1573-4293 ; v. v 8) Includes index. ISBN 978-90-04-17126-8 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Government, Resistance to—Religious aspects—Christianity. 2. Nonviolence— Religious aspects—Christianity. 3. Revolutions—Religious aspects—Christianity. 4. Church history—20th century. 5. Christianity and politics—History—20th century. 6. Church and social problems. I. Dosenrode-Lynge, Sören Zibrandt von. BR115.P7C381625 2008 241’.621—dc22 2008035398

ISSN 1573-4293 ISBN 978 90 04 17126 8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands CONTENTS

List of Contributors ...... vii

Introduction The Frame of the Book or: Mr Munk and Mr Petersen ...... 1 Søren Dosenrode

Chapter One Always Turning the Other Cheek? An Introduction to the Question of ‘Christianity and Resistance’ ...... 7 Søren Dosenrode

Chapter Two Between Conformity and Nonconformity: The Issue of Non-violent Resistance in Early Christianity and Its Relevance Today ...... 29 Johannes Nissen

Chapter Three Franz Jägerstätter: Better the Hands in Chains, than the Will ...... 55 Erna Putz

Chapter Four Kaj Munk and Resistance ...... 81 Arne Munk

Chapter Five Henning von Tresckow: A Christian Motive for Killing Hitler? ...... 119 Annette Mertens

Chapter Six Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Journey from Paciﬁ sm to Resistance ...... 147 Ulrik B. Nissen

Chapter Seven Paul Gerhard Braune: The Legacy of His Resistance to Euthanasia ...... 175 Ole J. Hartling vi contents

Chapter Eight Lajos Ordass: A Christian and a Consistent Adversary of the Totalitarian Systems ...... 203 Enikò Böröcz

Chapter Nine Oscar Arnulfo Romero: The Defender of the Poor ...... 233 Paul Gerhard Schoenborn

Chapter Ten Desmond Tutu: Church Resistance to Apartheid and Injustice in Africa ...... 261 Peter Lodberg

Chapter Eleven Instead of a Conclusion ...... 277 Søren Dosenrode

Index ...... 283 LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Böröscz, Enikö, Dr., Central Archives of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Hungary, Budapest, Hungary Dosenrode, Søren, Dr. phil., Jean Monnet Professor, Director of research at the Kaj Munk Research Centre, Aalborg University, Denmark Hartling, Ole J., M.D., physician in chief, D.M. Sc., former chairman of the Danish Council of Ethics, Vejle Hospital, Denmark Lodberg, Peter, Dr., Associate Professor, Faculty of Theology, Depart- ment of Systematic Theology, University of Aarhus, Denmark Mertens, Annette, Dr. phil., research associate, Kommission für Zeitge- schichte (Commission for Contemporary History), Bonn, Germany Munk, Arne, Associate Professor BD and MA, Faculty of Theology, University of Copenhagen, Denmark Nissen, Johannes, Associate Professor, Faculty of Theology, Department of Biblical Studies, University of Aarhus, Denmark Nissen, Ulrik Becker, PhD, Associate Professor, Faculty of Theology, Department of Systematic Theology, University of Aarhus, Denmark Putz, Erna, Mag. theol., Dr. phil., rer. pol., Ohlsdorf, Austria Schoenborn, Paul Gerhard, reverend and adult educationalist, Wup- pertal, Germany

INTRODUCTION

THE FRAME OF THE BOOK OR: MR MUNK AND MR PETERSEN

Søren Dosenrode

How is the Christian supposed to act when his or her government mis- behaves? Is he or she expected to suffer or to resist? This fundamental question has been acute for many Christians throughout the ages and also for an ordinary Danish civil servant, Mr Paul Petersen, who wrote to the well known Rev. Kaj Munk (1898–1944)1 in July 1943, during Den- mark’s occupation. Speciﬁ cally, this short correspondence addresses the question of whether or not Christians should resist the German occupation of Denmark, thus illustrating the topic of this book. Mr Paul Petersen wrote [shortened by SD]: København V., July 10, 1943 Dannevirkegade 27 Rev. Kaj Munk Vedersø I have seen several of your plays; I have read much of what you have written, including your memoirs [. . .] and have been glad for most of it, although I am—perhaps because of a lack of understanding—not equally fond of everything you are writing. Yes, I have admired you as a writer and portrayer; but unfortunately, I have also read your New

1 It is hard to come to grips with Danish and Scandinavian inter bellum (cultural) history without including Kaj Munk in the analysis. Kaj Munk was a celebrated dramatist, a priest, a political journalist and a ﬁ erce opponent of the German occupation of Denmark. When Benito Mussolini and later Adolf Hitler seized power, they fascinated him immensely, and the ‘strong men’ were a theme of several of his plays, but when especially Hitler’s prosecution of the Jews became more and more obvious, his enthusiasm faded. When Denmark was occupied by German forces in 1940, he took up a position against Germany. During the years of occupation, he vehemently opposed the Danish policy of cooperation with the occupational forces, and he was killed by members of the German SS in January 1944. Chapter 4 in this book is dedicated to Kaj Munk. 2 søren dosenrode

Year-sermon in ‘Nyt fra “Dansk Samling”’,2 which has caused an urge within me to write some lines to you, even though I do not expect an exchange of letters, as I certainly lack the ability to refute your possible answer or defence. It has disappointed me so inexpressibly. For your information, I am a completely ordinary man, who privately struggles with the problems of life and secretly thinks deeply about what I hear and see. The Lord’s prayer ends: “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.” The bible says: “Humility precedes honour.” You preach from the pulpit to the congregation about “For the sake of honour, honour, honour—i.e. the honour of this country, and therefore the honour of the Danes.” You criticise the fact that we haven’t used weapons—how can a priest urge others to use deadly weapons against one’s fellow man? How can priests bless weapons at all? Surely, God does let the disciples talk about “fi ghting” but in my eyes, this can only mean to fi ght with “the spiritual sword.” [. . .] For me, one of the greatest tasks a priest has to undertake, is that he has to talk about and urge love, love and again love—and not murder! My beloved, late mother’s motto was: “Better to suffer wrongs than to do wrong.” We Danes have suffered wrongs and suffer wrongs—but I think it is objectionable if a priest urges to oppose this with armed force. When I was 21 years old, I decided that I would not fi re a shot, if I should become part of a war while having my mind intact. My motivation was that on the last day, I wanted to be able to say with my head held high that I obeyed the commandment: “You shall not kill.” We do not agree about this point, although I would have expected so, given that you are one of God’s chosen men. Nevertheless, thank you for all the good that you, as a poet, have given me and my fellow men. We have appreciated it. I will, of course, let you alone

2 ‘News from “Danish Unity”’ (Dansk Samling). Dansk Samling was a centre-right party, founded in 1936 and represented in parliament between 1943–47. From 1943, it was a part of the Danish resistance movement and represented in the Danish under- ground ‘Council for Freedom’ (Frihedsrådet). the frame of the book 3

bear the responsibility which you have taken upon yourself—presumably in the belief that your point of view is correct. Paul Petersen The Rev. Kaj Munk answered Mr. Petersen immediately: Vedersø, 13/7–43 Dear Writer Why do I answer your letter? Indeed it seems pointless. However, I do not believe that you hold your dead mother in reverence. You desecrate her memory by construing her words as: rather let others suffer than do right yourself. Facing the sufferings of Jews, the sufferings of Poland, the sufferings of Norway—you are keeping your hands in your pockets, sir! Do you know what Christ would say to you on Judgement Day? He would say: “Paul! Paul! Oh why did you not take your hands out of your pockets?” “Whosoever shall offend one of these little ones, he deserves no better that a millstone were hanged about his neck and thrown into the sea.” You, you, you are complicit in offending the little ones. You see beasts throwing themselves on small children without lifting a fi nger. And that is called Christianity. Dear oh dear! And you believe that Glory be to God when his people act infamously! May the Holy Spirit guide you! Kaj Munk In this correspondence, the two archetypal positions on the role of the Christian in confl ict are exhibited clearly: the pacifi stic and that of active resistance. They clearly show the dilemma of a Christian living in a state with an unjust (de facto or de jure) government: should one suffer and obey the authority, or should one render resistance; and if so, should it be passive or active; and if active, should it be violent or not? This book will not provide the answer to the question posed above, but it will describe and analyse persons of the 20th century who were placed in a situation where they did not merely ‘turn the other cheek’, but felt that they had to resist a regime; a decision which had consequences for them all. The number of persons who have suffered during the century of dictatorship and tyranny is enormous, and it would be easy to ask 4 søren dosenrode the question, ‘why did you not include . . .?’. We would have to agree and say yes, Father Maximilian Kolbe († 1941), Pater Ruprecht Mayer († 1945), Martin Luther King († 1968), Margarida Maria Alves († 1983), Father Jerzy Popieluszko († 1984) and so forth, would be good and illuminating examples as well. We acknowledge this, but we also fi nd that the persons chosen are illustrative for the dilemma Christians may fi nd themselves in, and also for the variety of ways in which to respond to it. In spite of a certain ‘Eurocentric’ approach, we have tried to include examples from outside of Europe to show the generality of the overall problematic of this book. We also recognise that the Second World War dominates this analysis, but this war was a different kind of war compared to previous wars; it was a battle of ideologies, it was democracies against totalitarian regimes, it was atheist regimes against regimes recognising and accepting Christianity as a part of their culture. Thus this emphasis on the Second World War is justifi able. The book is structured in a way that the fi rst two chapters are of an introductory nature. Dosenrode analyses the ‘right to resist’ and ‘tyranocide’ throughout history but especially in the fi rst centuries after Christ, and the Reformation periods and the following centuries. He is looking both at the major denominations’ and at the political thinkers’ way of considering the question of resistance. Johannes Nissen gives an in-depth analysis of the central question of non-violent resistance both in early Christianity and in the Christian tradition until today. His chapter is divided into two major parts. In the fi rst, he analyses the question of resistance in texts from the New Testament, arguing that Christ in fact advocated non-violent resistance. In the second part, he inter alia discusses Christian refl ections on peace, violence and war, and how to break the spiral of violence. The following eight chapters by Putz, Munk, Mertens, Nissen, Hart- ling, Böröcz, Schoenborn and Lodbjerg each analyses a signifi cant person (Franz Jägerstätter, Kaj Munk, Henning von Treskow, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Paul Gerhardt Braune, Lajos Ordass, Arnulfo Romero and Desmond Tutu) trying to get close to their ideas of Christian resistance by looking at their background, their denomination, a possible moment of conversion, their opinion of the tyrannical regime and by what they would like it to be replaced, etc. Hartling’s chapter is slightly atypical as it, on the one hand analyses Paul Gerhardt Braune’s active, non-violent resistance to the Nazi-euthanasia program, but, on the other hand, goes further than that, insofar as it draws clear parallels from the arguments the frame of the book 5 and vocabulary of the proponents of euthanasia in Nazi-Germany and the current debate on the same subject. There is no conclusion, and no attempt to answer the question of whether Christians should resist or not. Rather, Dosenrode briefl y touches upon three topics present in most of the biographies: personal commitment to Christianity, reluctance to and restraint in the use of violence, and martyrdom.3

Aalborg University, September 2008

3 I would like to thank Andrea v. Dosenrode, Lic. Iur (LLM) and Jørgen Albretsen, MSc for their professional help.

CHAPTER ONE

ALWAYS TURNING THE OTHER CHEEK? AN INTRODUCTION TO THE QUESTION OF ‘CHRISTIANITY AND RESISTANCE’

Søren Dosenrode 1

Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained by God. Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God [. . .] The New Testament, Rom. XIII, 1–2

Introduction

John Locke argues in his ‘The Second Treaties of Government’ that a state is necessary to avoid total anarchy and a ‘state of nature’ where all ﬁ ght all (chapters II & III), and thus he is in accordance with both Aristotle who argues that it is the task of the state to secure stability for its citizens (‘Politik’, Buch 5), and with Thomas Hobbes, who described the world outside the state with his famous words: ‘It is a jungle out there’. The state prevents that anarchy should move inside the state borders; the state gives stability and peace. Resistance to the state’s orders is basically an action no state can tolerate, as it under- mines the authority of the executive powers and may lead to the loss of the state’s legitimacy, to anarchy and eventually to loss of lives and the breakdown of the state. Man longs for peace and stability not anarchy, but at any cost? Is there a point when resistance against the state becomes necessary?2

1 I would like to thank Prof. Peter Øhrstrøm and Bishop Henrik Christiansen, both Aalborg, for useful comments. 2 This chapter does not aim to provide a full and detailed overview of Christian resistance as well as resistance in all it nuances. Although extremely interesting and relevant, space forbids this. Instead, the aim is to draw the major lines through history, to create a background for the following chapters in the book. 8 søren dosenrode

The topic of this short chapter, indeed this whole book, is resistance, which is understood as the opposition to something with which one disagrees, speciﬁ cally ‘the state’ or ‘the government’. Resistance may be legal or illegal; it may be passive or active, but if all governance comes from God are Christians allowed to resist Government at all?3 Different persons have answered this question differently at different times and in different situations, but whatever the answer may have been, through the ages, it has had political, moral and sometimes personal consequences. The aim of this chapter is not to present a narrative of church and world history, but to look at the concept of resistance from a theological and a political science/philosophical angle. We will focus on three central periods: the formative years of the Church (30 until around 500); the 16th and 17th century (including the Reformation), when the doctrines were conceived and developed by theologians as well as political scientists; and the end of the 18th century, where the ancienne regimes were overthrown, and a legitimate reason for that was needed. These were the crucial periods where the concept was developed; the later times basically draw on the earlier thinkers.

The beginning

During the ﬁ rst century, Christianity began to spread within the Roman Empire, which was approaching the zenith of its power, building on Augustus’ victory over Antonius. Augustus reformed the religious system of Rome emphasising the ancient Roman gods and traditions, restoring temples, rites, etc. and trying to stop the inﬁ ltration of the Oriental gods, sceptical philosophy and atheism, which were considered dangerous to the regime. His reform secured a certain stability over the next 200 years (Grane 1973, 173/22). One important factor in this context was the worship of the emperor, beginning with the worship of his genius but soon, under Caligula, one worshiped not only the genius and the deceased emperors but the living ones as well (‘Caesar and God’). In the meantime, the Church itself expanded. Acts as well as Letters in the

3 Although relevant, this book does not look at Christians oppressing other Chris- tians out of religious disagreements even though the former may be in government; thus ‘incidents’ like the prosecution of the Anabaptists by the Zwinglianer in Zurich will not be looked into. always turning the other cheek? 9

New Testament give a vivid account of that. The two most important factors were Paul’s opening of Christianity to non-Jews and the destruction of Jerusalem in year 70 moving the centre of the Church from a small provincial town to Rome and Ephesus, conducting a fi nal breach with Judaism and at the same time placing itself centrally within the Empire. Apart from Nero’s rather local persecution in Rome (year 64), there was no open confl ict between the state and the Christians.4 Augustus’ death (year 14) had implied a climate of larger tolerance towards other religions from which the Christians could profi t when they began spreading some decades later. Adding to this, the Chris- tians constituted a minority and were not considered a threat to the Roman state or its religion. But this did not prevent local episodes, as Christianity was itself intolerant towards other religions, claiming to be the only true way to salvation—The Book of Acts tells of several episodes where Christians were persecuted (13,59; 14; 1–6; 14,19), but generally the period was tranquil for the new Church, which respected the emperor and his offi cials; they lived in the world but tried not to be of the world. During the second century, the Roman Empire expanded and consolidated under the leadership of the adopted emperors (e.g. Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius). The state was strong and not threatened, culture fl ourished, and one spoke of ‘the golden century’, but this did not imply that Christianity was an accepted religion; it was illegal and not looked at with tolerance, neither from the other religions nor from the state. However, a correspondence from Emperor Trajan to the governor in Asia Minor, Plinius the Younger from approx. 112 reveals that although the emperor considered Christians worthy of the death penalty, they were too unimportant for the state to begin procedures to eliminate them on a larger scale (Bruce 1991, 14–19). The Church itself expanded slowly during this century, perhaps due to the hostile environment. The end of the second century and all of the third century were bad for the Roman Empire. After Marcus Aurelius came the rule of Commodus, initiating a period of unrest lasting under the house of Septimus Servus (193–235) and the soldier emperors which—with the exception of Diocletian—lasted until Constantine the Great. The state was weakened inside by many incompetent emperors and civil wars, as

4 Although inter alia two prominent Christians, St. Peter and St. Paul, were killed. 10 søren dosenrode well as by a steadily growing pressure from outside, which had existed since the middle of the second century. According to Latourette (1965, chapter 4), the problems Rome had in this period were interpreted by some as a result of the apostete 5 from the old gods, as well as the emergence of the Christians. While accepting the rule of the emperor and even praying for him, the Christians could not worship him or the ancient Roman gods, and as the emperor was seen both as the personifi cation of the state and as a god, it was easy to argue that the Christians were at best disloyal, and at worst blasphemous heathens, disregarding the old gods, etc. When adding to this the Christian claim of exclusive knowledge of salvation, the scene was set for the prosecutions which followed. The Church itself went through a strong development in this period. To begin with, it was weakened by internal disagreements and syncretism (Gnosis, Markion, Montanusis), but it is possible to claim that this internal threat was overcome around 180, as the canon, as well as the rules for baptism, were agreed upon. At the organisational level, the bishops were able to strengthen their position (apostolic succession), organise cooperation between the dioceses (synods), etc, but this also made the Church more visible and slowly more powerful. Septimus Servus forbad conversion to Christianity, and Emperor Decius, trying to renew the Roman spirit, dictated that all Roman citizens should sacrifi ce to the Roman gods. According to Grane (1973, 66), this led to the fi rst organised prosecution (250–251). It did not cost many martyrs but many lapsi.6 In any event, the Church was better prepared when Emperor Valerianus’ prosecutions began in 257. Christian services were prohibited, the clergy was ordered to sacrifi ce to the Roman gods and senators and knights were threatened with confi scation of their property if they converted to Christianity (Grane 1973, 67). The latter is interesting, as it implies that members of the Roman upper classes were also turning towards Christianity. When Emperor Gallienus stopped the prosecutions, the Church was granted about 40 years of peace, which it used to consolidate itself until the last and worst prosecution was launched by Emperor Diocletian circa 303–304, lasting until 311. Diocletian considered the Church a powerful organisation, a state within the state, that he could not tolerate in a time of crisis. His prosecution

5 Defection from the right belief/gods. 6 Persons leaving the faith. always turning the other cheek? 11 had two phases; fi rst the civil service and the army were cleansed of Christians (to secure a loyal instrument for the following process), then the Christians had to sacrifi ce to the gods; either that or face deportation to the mines . . . The prosecutions lasted until 311 when Emperor Galerius stopped them. Concerning resistance, the Church began as a tiny, fragile organisation, which lived at the mercy of its environment. It was discriminated against by the state and parts of civil society. Especially at the outset, the Church had very few infl uential supporters. The Christians rendered passive resistance to the state as no other real alternative remained, neither do I recall having read suggestions of the opposite. Martyrdom was a reality, as well as a way to meet the Lord. In this sense, the choice was easy. Besides, there was no Roman tradition to fall back on, should one have considered the idea of armed resistance.7 After Diocletian’s resignation in 305, war broke out among his desig- nated successors. This civil war had an intial period which ended with Emperor Constantine the Great’s (c. 272–337) victory over his rival Maxentius at the Milvia Bridge8 in 312, which made Constantine ruler of the Western Empire, while Licinius ruled the East until Constantine’s victory over him in 324. The Roman Empire had suffered from the civil war, so to reform and create a ‘new start’, Constantine founded Constantinople, ‘a new Rome’ in 330, moving the centre of the Empire eastwards. Constantine and his successors were preoccupied with wars against Persia, the Franks, the Goths, etc. Emperor Theodosius kept the Empire together until his death in 395, where it was divided between his two sons. The last Western Emperor was Romolus Augustulus (died 476), whereas the Eastern Empire lasted until 1453. Already in 313, Constantine gave the Edict of Tolerance (Edict of Milan), in which the Church received offi cial toleration, had its properties restored, and the bishops received a certain degree of jurisdiction. The change had come for the Church, which was fi nally crowned by its elevation to state-church in 380 at the same time as other religions

7 In the republic, a Roman civil servant could be tried before court after he had laid down his offi ce; and during the emperors’ era, they had a divine aura preventing resistance . . . but not assassination for political reasons. 8 Legend tells that on the evening of the battle at Milvia Bridge (near Rome), a cross appeared in the sky together with the words ‘by this sign shall you conquer’, turning Constantine favourably towards Christianity. 12 søren dosenrode were prohibited. In other words, the political situation of the Church was dramatically altered. The price the Church had to pay was a loss of independence. Constantine needed the Church to legitimise his empire, and thus he needed a united church. So when the Church was faced with internal confl icts, he intervened, either with direct orders or by calling an ecumenical council. He did so in Nicaea in 325 to solve the Arian confl ict and to formulate the Christian doctrine; works that he himself participated in.

St. Augustine of Hipo The questions of resistance, military service and war were not serious questions before 313, but afterwards some of these questions cropped up, now that the Church and the State were in close alliance. Augus- tine (354–430 AD), in his de civitate dei as well as in his letters, did not directly set up a doctrine on the right of resistance, but he did discuss reasons for war, and if one follows Home, it is also possible to deduce a certain right of resistance. According to Augustine, one may conduct war based on the will of God (Book 1.21), e.g. against the attacking heathens (2001, 221), but it should be just (Book 15,4) and its aim should be peace (Book 19, 12). He also writes the following to a Christian senior ofﬁ cer (2001, 217): Therefore it ought to be necessity, and not your will, that destroys an enemy who is ﬁ ghting you. And just as you use force against the rebel or opponent, so you ought now to use mercy towards the defeated or the captive, and particular so when there is no fear that peace will be disturbed Augustine also nailed down the criteria of a just war (bellum justum):

1) Its aim must be the re-creation of the legal order, i.e. peace with the adversary, not the destruction of him (recta intentio). 2) Just war may only be waged by a (legitimate) government, to him: the Roman Emperor (legitima auctoritas). 3) The cause of the war must be the threat of breaking the legal order (causa iusta).

Home (without year) argues that, according to Augustine, God’s state will remain in a state of contradiction to the earthly state (civitas terrene), only with the Church as a vague mirror of the glory of God’s state, always turning the other cheek? 13 and thus the Christians, to save the eternal life, are allowed to resist the earthly powers.

St. Thomas Aquinas Taking a large step forward in time, Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) discussed the question of ‘tyrannicide’.9 The 13th century witnessed the many wars between France and England, the Emperor and the Pope, etc. The Pope tried to claim his superiority over the Emperor as well as over the King of France. The Empire was weakened and consisted of a multitude of principalities, all organised in a feudal way. Thus the question of resistance was more than just theoretical. Thomas Aquinas approved of it. If the tyrant is (cf. Harty): [. . .] a traitor acting against the common well, and, like any other criminal, may be put to death by legitimate authority. If possible the legitimate authority must use the ordinary forms of law in condemning the tyrant to death, but if this is not possible, it can proceed informally and grant individuals a mandate to inﬂ ict the capital punishment. The word ‘grant’ is important, as it implies that the killer must have a mandate and not do it on his or her own whim. Thus Thomas Aquinas accepted tyrannicide as a last resort, provided that it was rooted in a higher power than an individual’s idea. This is in accordance with the medieval understanding that government comes from God, carried out by people to the beneﬁ t of men. It is also in accordance with the Augustinan dictum that violence must only be used to restore peace and justice. This same understanding of the use of violence is evident when looking at Thomas Aquinas’ understanding of (just) war, which is equivalent to that of Augustinus. According to Thomas Aquinas, war of aggression is not allowed.10

9 Tyrannicide must be understood as the ultimate kind of active resistance. Other kinds of resistance were known and accepted as common law throughout the middle ages, as long as they did not exceed the boundaries of proportionality. Examples are refusal of showing obedience (like Wilhelm Tell in Schiller’s famous novel), refusal of paying taxes, doing drudgery, etc. This was done to restore rights and of course it was easier for a nobleman than a peasant to do this. It was not only common law, it was also logical for an era of feudalism building on a common obligation. 10 I have included the question of just war because it shows the great restraint both Augustinus and Thomas Aquinas laid down on the use of violence, be that from the side of the state or the citizens. Violence was ultima ratio. 14 søren dosenrode

The Reformation and the theological thoughts of resistance

The Catholic Church discussed the question of tyrannicide at the Council of Constance (1414–18) under the direction of the Emperor, and came out against it, condemning it as contrary to faith and moral. The Council was important, as it attempted to restore the Church after the Popes were in Avignon and the general decay of the Church’s power, morally and politically (at times there were two Popes, bribery, etc.). A hundred years later, the Reformation swept over Europe, and the new Churches had to make a stand on the question in those extremely tense and uncertain times; tense and uncertain for the churches and for the peoples. The Council of Constance had not solved the moral crisis of the Church. Although Emperor Charles V. fought both for the Church and the Empire, he was not able to prevent the disintegration of the Empire, especially in Central Europe, nor the continuing moral decay of the Church, eventually leading to the Reformation.

Catholic Church As mentioned, the Catholic Church did not approve of resistance. This would also be inconsistent, as the Pope claimed to have the right to tell a prince whether he behaved rightly or not, as he had done earlier e.g. King Henry of Germany’s walk to Canossa 1076. Still, there were theologians within the Catholic Church who discussed the right of resistance, such as the Spanish Jesuit Mariana (1599) coming out in favour of it.

Protestant Church Martin Luther (1483–1546) may look ‘woolly’ in his approach to resistance, and he had witnessed the ‘German Peasant’s War’ (Bauern- krieg). The peasants, in a miserable economic and social situation, had witnessed the behaviour of the clergy of the Catholic Church and had been able to read the newly translated New Testament (1522) and Martin Luther’s ‘On the freedom of a Christian man’, (Von der Freiheit eines Christenmenschen (1520)). These books inspired the peasants to ask themselves why they had to work for the upper classes. The result was violent uprisings, the slaughter of many peasants, and the endanger- ment of Luther’s reformation due to the princes’ misbelief or fear of always turning the other cheek? 15 the consequences. However, when one is looking at his ‘Tischreden’ he is fairly clear (1953, 197, my translation).

May one kill a tyrant, who acts against law and equity? For a civilian or a common man, who holds no public offi ce or command, it is not suitable that he should do it [kill a tyrant, SD], even if he could—the fi fth commandment prohibits it: you must not commit murder. However, if I should fi nd a man with my wife or my daughter, even if he was not a tyrant, I would kill him. Therefore, if he takes the wife of the fi rst, the daughter of a second, and the land and possessions of a third, and if the subjects then unite in order to put an end to his violence and tyranny, they shall kill him like any other murderer or robber But then (1953, 197, my translation).

Example of steadiness If the authorities themselves are hostile and against God’s word, we yield, sell and leave everything, ﬂ ee from one city to the other, as Christ commands: for because of the gospel, one should not make noise nor make opposition, but suffer everything. In other words, when considering the general problem, Luther accepts the right to resist, if the subjects in globo decide so, but in accordance with Aquinas, he advises a single individual to use the jus emigrandi if prosecuted.

Reformed Church Jean Calvin (1509–1564) was even clearer in his teachings. Leaning on Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, he emphasised the state’s authority over man: in a fallen world, the state is necessary to keep order and justice. Thus there is no individual right of resistance. However as Iain Maclean rightly remarks, Calvin’s emphasis on the absoluteness of God does open up for organised resistance, when the ruler’s commands are in conﬂ ict with God’s word. No state is absolute, only God is. In The Institutes of the Christian Religion, Book 4, On the Duty of Magistrates, section 31, Calvin stresses that that the removal of a ruler who is not in accordance with God, is a duty of the magistrate or other lower institutions. It is not a right of individuals or groups of citizens:11

11 The Institutions of the Christian Religion, Book 4, section 32 are quite clear about this: “But since Peter, one of heaven’s heralds, has published the edict, ‘We ought to 16 søren dosenrode

[. . .] I speak only of private men. For when popular magistrates have been appointed to curb the tyranny of kings, (as the Ephori, who were opposed to kings among the Spartans, or Tribunes of the people to consuls among the Romans, or Demarchs to the senate among the Athenians; and, perhaps, there is something similar to this in the power exercised in each kingdom by the three orders, when they hold their primary diets.) So far am I from forbidding these offi cially to check the undue license of kings, that if they connive at kings when they tyrannise and insult over the humbler of the people, I affi rm that their dissimulation is not free from nefarious perfi dy, because they fraudulently betray the liberty of the people, while knowing that, by the ordinance of God, they are its appointed guardians. Calvin very much wanted to prevent anarchy, and resistance was allowed for offi cials only; the commoner would have to suffer.

Anabaptist Church The Anabaptists have their origin in the Zwinglian reformation in Zürich (1525), which they basically supported but did not fi nd excessive enough. In the Schleitheimer Article from 1527, they laid down their basic dogmatic: The non-recognition of child baptism, the non-recognition of earthly authorities: [. . .] Thirdly, it will be asked concerning the sword, Shall one be a magistrate if one should be chosen as such? The answer is as follows: They wished to make Christ king, but He fl ed and did not view it as the arrangement of His Father. Thus shall we do as He did, and follow Him, and so shall we not walk in darkness. For He Himself says, He who wishes to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me. Also, He Himself forbids the (employment of) the force of the sword saying, The worldly princes lord it over them, etc., but not so shall it be with you. Further, Paul says, Whom God did foreknow He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son, etc. Also Peter says, Christ has suffered (not ruled) and left us an example, that ye should follow His steps. Finally, it will be observed that it is not appropriate for a Christian to serve as a magistrate because of these points: The government magistracy is according to the fl esh, but the Christian’s is according to the Spirit; obey God rather than men’ (Acts 5:29), let us console ourselves with the thought, that we are rendering the obedience which the Lord requires, when we endure anything rather than turn aside from piety. And that our courage may not fail, Paul stimulates us by the additional consideration (1 Cor. 7:23), that we were redeemed by Christ at the great price which our redemption cost him, in order that we might not yield a slavish obedience to the depraved wishes of men, far less do homage to their impiety.” always turning the other cheek? 17

their houses and dwelling remain in this world, but the Christian’s are in heaven; their citizenship is in this world, but the Christian’s citizenship is in heaven; the weapons of their confl ict and war are carnal and against the fl esh only, but the Christian’s weapons are spiritual, against the fortifi cation of the devil. The worldlings are armed with steel and iron, but the Christians are armed with the armor of God, with truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation and the Word of God. In brief, as in the mind of God toward us, so shall the mind of the members of the body of Christ be through Him in all things, that there may be no schism in the body through which it would be destroyed. For every kingdom divided against itself will be destroyed. Now since Christ is as it is written of Him, His members must also be the same, that His body may remain complete and united to its own advancement and upbuilding. The anababtists also refused to pay tax, do military service, and take the oath. Adding to this, they formed their own congregations. Their dogmatic foundation was the Sermon on the Mount. They belong to the founders of the pacifi st tradition. Resistance, which inevitably would happen, was logically of passive, non-violent nature.

Summary These basic positions have been held by the four church denominations through the centuries, but they have developed inﬂ uenced by the surrounding society. During the reformation, the Reformed and the Protestant Churches became more open to resistance, to defend the true faith, when they themselves were threatened, and the Catholic Church kept its strong point of ‘no resistance’. Concurrently with the end of the religious wars in Europe, the emergence of the modern state system (Westphalian Peace 1648) as well as the victory of absolutism (‘King by the Grace of God’), the inﬂ uence of the churches declined and often degenerated into instruments of the state, which is hardly a good position for new thinking and development of doctrines of resistance. The doctrine of resistance as expressed by the Catholic Church, the Reformed Church and also by the Protestant Church was characterised by the utmost restraint in the use of power—and this even more so for the Anabaptists. The fear of anarchy, civil war, etc. was immanent. Thus the teaching of the churches has basically been in support of the state and of status quo until the end of the 19th century, where Chris- tian-inspired peace movements began to appear. One example is the inter-denominational Fellowship of Reconciliation, which was founded in 1914 in an attempt to stop the First World War by peaceful means, and consisting of British, Germans and later also Americans. 18 søren dosenrode

Political thought and the right of resistance in the 16th and 17th century

When looking at the theological debate on resistance, it is natural to use the denominations as a way of categorising the various contributions. However, this would hardly work when looking at the secular discussion of resistance. Thus I will make a simple system of classifi - cation building on the worldviews of the investigated scholars. In the history of political thought, philosophy and related sciences one may distil two archetypal approaches or worldviews: an idealist approach, looking at man with positive eyes. Man is basically good and is able to be improved through education, etc. The development of society in general is positive and progressive; theoretically it is possible to make a perfect society on earth and, at the end of the process, the state is hardly needed. Exponents are e.g. John Locke, John Stuart Mill, and Karl Marx. The other archetype is the ‘realist’ one. Man is selfi sh and egoistic; education, etc. may help to cut away the worst edges but not enough to fundamentally alter human nature. History repeats itself and heaven is not a place on earth. Exponents are Aristotle, Niccolo Machiavelli, Hugo Grotius, Thomas Hobbes and Reinhold Niebuhr. These approaches to human nature run through the Western history of ideas; sometimes in a pure form, but also in a variety of mixes. Not all Christian scholars belong to the ‘realist’ or rather pessimistic tradition, but there seems to be a ‘lumping’ together in that category, depending on how much emphasis is put on original sin etc. On the other hand, one may fi nd ‘non Christians’ in the realist group, like Edmond Burk, just as one may fi nd Christian thinkers in the idealist corner, like John Locke.

Hugo Grotius Religiously, the Dutch scholar and statesman Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) sided with the Arminians against the Calvinists in the question of the cause of free will and predestination. He did not believe that war could be prevented between states, but his aim was to make it less brutal in general and to protect the civilians in particular. He belonged to the realist tradition, but to the more refl ective part of it (On Law of War and Peace, Prolegomena): I saw in the whole Christian world a license of fi ghting at which even barbarous nations might blush. Wars were begun on trifl ing pretexts always turning the other cheek? 19

or none at all, and carried on without any reference of law, Divine or human. In his De Jure Belli ac Pacis (‘On Law of War and Peace’) from 1625, Book 1, chapter 4 discusses the question of citizens’ right of resistance, or as he considers it: war against their ruler. Grotius accepts an extremely limited right of active resistance and does not allow the ruler to be hurt, while leaning at e.g. David and Saul. Although David knew that king Saul wanted him dead and David had a bodyguard, David ﬂ ed and tried to hide instead of standing up and defend himself. Grotius also refers to the ﬁ rst generations of Christians who, although prosecuted, did not resist. Grotius’ general idea was to maintain peace and tranquillity within the state, and not to create disorder. He quotes and agrees with Favo- nius’ statement “civil war is a worse evil than unlawful government” (Book 1 Chapter 4, XIX.2) and thus he is in accordance with Erasmus of Rotterdam and Hobbes. Grotius is extremely restrictive in allowing resistance against a tyrant compared to Calvin and Luther; resistance is only acceptable as a very last resort before being killed i.e. self defence (Book 1, Chapter 4, VII.5–7), and even then Grotius opts for being killed . . . Uprising per se is only acceptable against a usurer who has come to power illegally.

Thomas Hobbes Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), who was accused of being an atheist, is an archetypal realist. His already mentioned alleged statement to the Earl of Essex about society; ‘it is a jungle out there’, as well as his characterising of mankind as Homo homine lupus are evidence of this. (1994, 106): For the laws of nature (as justice, equity, modesty, mercy, and (in sum) doing to others as we would be done to) of themselves, without the terror of some power to cause them to be observed, are contrary to our natural passions, that carry us to partiality, pride, revenge, and the like Hobbes was the father of the idea of a social contract made by men living in a state of nature, and fearing for their lives. So afraid in fact, that they were ready to give up parts of their freedom for the establishment of a commonwealth (1994, 109): The only way to erect such a common power as may be able to defend them from the invasion of foreigners and the injustice of one another, 20 søren dosenrode

[. . .], is to confer all their power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may reduce all their wills, [. . .] unto one will, which is as much as to say, to appoint a man or assembly of men to bear their person, and every one to own and acknowledge himself to be author of whatsoever he that so beareth their person shall act, [. . .] The regent (Hobbes preferred monarchy) is above the law. If he is wise, he will follow the natural law, and try to give good and fair laws, carrying about society, etc. as it will secure stability, wealth and minimise the risk of rebellion, but no one can prevent him from not looking after the society and pursuing egoistic goals. I agree with Colette Kouadio’s summary that: Il faut bien voir qu’aux yeux de Hobbes le droit de résistance est pure- ment et simplement exclu. Le souverain, même s’il use de la dernière violence, ne peut rien faire contre l’intérêt du peuple puisqu’il le sort de la pire des situations qui soit: l’état de nature. Toute révolte risque de faire réapparaître cet état de nature. Or, si “à l’état de nature l’homme est un loup pour l’homme, à l’état social l’homme est un dieu pour l’homme”. Certes si le pouvoir était à ce point arbitraire qu’il mettrait en péril la vie de ses sujets, ceux-ci peuvent se défendre (c’est en effet pour se préserver qu’ils ont admis le contrat) mais cela ne signiﬁ e pas qu’il y ait droit à la résistance. Le pouvoir est absolu parce que c’est le garant de sa stabilité. Cela ne signiﬁ e pas qu’il soit nécessairement arbitraire ou despotique.12 Thus even in Hobbes’ universe, man has a limited right to resist the regent, namely the one of self defence.13

John Locke The idealist John Locke (1632–1704), who sympathised with the Arme- nians (Gough in Locke 1956, ix), was basically a Whig but followed

12 “It is necessary to realise that, for Hobbes, the right to resist is absolutely and totally excluded. The sovereign, even if he should use absolute force, cannot do anything against the interests of the people, because it is him who lifts them out of the worst situation of all: the state of nature. All revolt carries the risk of returning to the natural state. Moreover, when “man is man’s wolf in the natural state, man is man’s God in the social state”. Of course, if the power was so arbitrary that it would endanger the life of its subjects, they could defend themselves (it is to sustain themselves, that they have entered the contract), but that does not mean that a right to resistance exists. The power is absolute, because it guarantees stability. That does not mean that it is necessarily arbitrary or despotic.” (My translation). 13 Thomas S. Schrock gives an in-depth analysis of ‘The Right to Punish and Resist Punishment’ in Hobbes’s Leviathan (Schrock 1991). always turning the other cheek? 21

Augustine, as well as protestant thinkers of the reformation, when writing his ‘The Second Treatise of Government’ in 1690. In chapter 18, ‘On Tyranny’, he deals with the question of resistance. He begins by deﬁ ning tyranny as [. . .] the exercise of power beyond right, which nobody can have a right to. And this is making use of the power any one has in his hand, not for the good of those who are under it, but for his own private separate advantage (Locke 1956, 100). To Locke, the regent is subject to the law, contrary to Hobbes. Thus his answer to the question whether resistance is acceptable is stringent (1956, 102): To this I answer, that force is to be opposed to nothing but to unjust and unlawful force; whoever makes any opposition in any other case draws on himself a just condemnation both from God and man, [. . .] Such was the theoretical basis up to the middle of the 18th century. Only a very limited right to resist the sovereign was accepted, and that was equally the case whether the scholar belonged to the idealist or realist tradition. The last half of the 18th century saw two great revolutions: the American and the French.

The Great Revolutions

It comes as no surprise that the revolutionaries in North America and France drew on the idealist world view, as the realist one was very reluctant towards radical changes.

American Revolution An important argument for a revolution in America was delivered by Thomas Paine (1737–1809), a broke Englishman whom Benjamin Franklin got to know and sent to Philadelphia. His great contribution was the pamphlet ‘Common Sense’ from 1776 (Paine 1976). He begins the pamphlet by making the important distinction between society and government (Section I): SOME writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively 22 søren dosenrode

by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The fi rst is a patron, the last a punisher. Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without government, our calamity is heightened by refl ecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; [. . .] As one does need a government, then its source of legitimacy and sovereignty stems from the majority of the people. He goes on arguing that the British constitution has cemented tyranny, and that America suffers economically from the connection (section III): I have heard it asserted by some, that as America hath fl ourished under her former connexion with Great-Britain, that the same connexion is necessary towards her future happiness, and will always have the same effect. Nothing can be more fallacious than this kind of argument. We may as well assert that because a child has thrived upon milk, that it is never to have meat, or that the fi rst twenty years of our lives is to become a precedent for the next twenty. But even this is admitting more than is true, for I answer roundly, that America would have fl ourished as much, and probably much more, had no European power had any thing to do with her. The commerce, by which she hath enriched herself are the necessaries of life, and will always have a market while eating is the custom of Europe. Consequently, he suggests an independent America under a president and a continental congress. Besides the exploitation argument, one should remember that the American Revolution was an uprising of citizens outside the mainland, and was basically legitimised through the claim of being deprived of democratic rights (‘No taxation without representation’). In other words, the sovereign did not obey the laws of the country, and an uprising was legitimate in a Lockeian sense.

French Revolution The French Revolution was of a different kind. It took place in the mother country itself, not in a colony. Its aim was to transform the existing system of government and to reform the whole society. In the preamble of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, as approved by the National Assembly of France, August 26, 1789 the reason for the change is given: always turning the other cheek? 23

The representatives of the French people, organized as a National Assem- bly, believing that the ignorance, neglect, or contempt of the rights of man are the sole cause of public calamities and of the corruption of governments, have determined to set forth in a solemn declaration the natural, unalienable, and sacred rights of man, in order that this declaration, being constantly before all the members of the Social body, shall remind them continually of their rights and duties; in order that the acts of the legislative power, as well as those of the executive power, may be compared at any moment with the objects and purposes of all political institutions and may thus be more respected, and, lastly, in order that the grievances of the citizens, based hereafter upon simple and incontestable principles, shall tend to the maintenance of the constitution and redound to the happiness of all. The concrete background for the French Revolution was a depressed economy, high unemployment, monopolies and a rigid society, which divided the citizens into three categories: the clergy, the nobility and the commoners. The ideological or philosophical background for the revolution was the enlightenment and the belief in the possibilities of the future. Among many sources of inspiration were John Locke and Charles-Louis de Montesquieu (1689–1755). Before the outbreak of the revolution, the French minister of Finance Jacques Necker, had tried to reform the fi nances in a more general and just manner, but was stopped by the regional parliaments. This prompted Abbé Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès (1748–1836) to write the single most infl uential pamphlet on the situation in France titled Qu’est-ce que le tiers état? (What is the third state?). He begins his pamphlet: The plan of this book is fairly simple. We must ask ourselves three questions. 1. What is the Third State? Everything. 2. What has it been until now in the political order? Nothing. 3. What does it want to be? Something. . . . [and ends] The Third Estate embraces then all that which belongs to the nation; and all that which is not the Third Estate, cannot be regarded as being of the nation. In his pamphlet, Sieyès criticises the privileges of the nobility and argues that they are a burden upon the state and that the whole system of privileges prevents progress, and he goes on (Sieyès): In the fi rst place, it is not possible in the number of all the elementary parts of a nation to fi nd a place for the caste of nobles. I know that there 24 søren dosenrode

are individuals in great number whom inﬁ rmities, incapacity, incurable laziness, or the weight of bad habits render strangers to the labours of society. The exception and the abuse are everywhere found beside the rule. But it will be admitted that the less there are of these abuses, the better it will be for the State. The worst possible arrangement of all would be where not alone isolated individuals, but a whole class of citizens should take pride in remaining motionless in the midst of the general movement, and should consume the best part of the product without bearing any part in its production. Such a class is surely estranged to the nation by its indolence. To Sieyès the nation is the commoners, the Third Estate (Sieyès): The Third Estate embraces then all that which belongs to the nation; and all that which is not the Third Estate, cannot be regarded as being of the nation. What is the Third Estate? It is the whole. Sieyès actively participated in the writing of the ‘Declaration of the Rights of Man’ in which article 2 is especially noteworthy in this context, as it clearly expresses a right of resistance (which is slightly ironic considering the regime of terror and later the Napoleonic dictatorship which were to follow): 2. The aim of all political association is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man. These rights are liberty, property, security, and resistance to oppression. With its belief in enlightenment, rationality of man, in short ‘progress’, as well as the right to oppose and resist oppression, the fundamental texts of the revolution clearly place it in the ‘liberal’ tradition. Not surprisingly, the liberal revolutions caused a realist reply. One was the German-Austrian Prince Clemens von Metternich (1773–1859); another, a contemporary, was the British Edmund Burke (1729–1797). Burke’s ‘Reﬂ ections on the Revolution in France’ from 1790 is clearly a work of realism. Paragraph 25 forcefully states what he thinks of British and French who advocate the right of revolution: Whatever may be the success of evasion in explaining away the gross error of fact, which supposes that his Majesty (though he holds it in con- currence with the wishes) owes his crown to the choice of his people, yet nothing can evade their full explicit declaration concerning the principle of a right in the people to choose; which right is directly maintained, and tenaciously adhered to. All the oblique insinuations concerning election bottom in this proposition, and are referable to it. Lest the foundation always turning the other cheek? 25

of the king’s exclusive legal title should pass for a mere rant of adulatory freedom, the political divine proceeds dogmatically to assert, that, by the principles of the Revolution [the Glorious Revolution, 1688, SD], the people of England have acquired three fundamental rights, all which, with him, compose one system, and lie together in one short sentence; namely, that we have acquired a right “To choose our own governors.” “To cashier them for misconduct.” “To frame a government for ourselves.” This new, and hitherto unheard-of, bill of rights, though made in the name of the whole people, belongs to those gentlemen and their faction only. The body of the people of England have no share in it. They utterly disclaim it. They will resist the practical assertion of it with their lives and fortunes. They are bound to do so by the laws of their country, made at the time of that very Revolution which is appealed to in favour of the ﬁ ctitious rights claimed by the Society which abuses its name. Burke’s attitude is building on the concept of the state as not just a circumstantial collection of individuals, but something much more. Burk’s state is, in the words of Fenske (1987, 416, my translation): “[. . .] a community between the past, the present and future generations”. I agree with Fenske (1987, 416–17) when he condenses Burke’s idea in the way that Burke sees the state in a historic continuum. A state may fail in one way or the other and faults must be corrected. Here resistance is allowed or even demanded; but only to reestablish continuity! This was not the aim of the revolutionaries, and thus he condemned them.

Postscript During the 19th century, the thoughts presented above were developed in various directions within the two world views (eg. realists as Karl Ludwig v. Halle (1768–1845); Joseph de Maistre (1753–1821), Friederich Julius Stahl (1802–1861) and idealists as Etienne Cabet (1788–1856), Louis Blanc (1813–1882), John Stuart Mill (1806–1873), Karl Marx (1818–1883)). For some (e.g. v. Halle) resistance was looked at with skepticism, and for other (e.g. Karl Marx) resistance developed into an almost sacred duty. 26 søren dosenrode

Conclusion

The question of resistance was important from the very inception of the Church in the fi rst few centuries A.C. As the Christians did not have any instruments of power at their disposal, the question was whether to resist passively or not at all. The fi rst prosecutions showed us that both options were chosen; martyrs as well as lapsi showed this very clearly. Although Christians should not be of this world but only in it, the surrounding environment necessarily has had an impact on the attitude towards resistance. The spreading of Christianity, culminating in its becoming state religion changed the ‘state of innocence’ understood as a situation without power, into a situation with power (with its tendency to corrupt) and responsibility. The Church entered into an alliance with the state. Still, it remained a common denominator among the classical Christian scholars that utmost care is taken towards resistance. Placed on a ‘continuum’ with ‘non-violence’ at one extreme and ‘use of violence’ at the other, the Catholic Church as well as the Anabaptists decline any use of violent resistance, over the Lutheran reluctant acceptance to the Calvinist institutionalised duty of inferior magistrates to remove a regent, under certain well specifi ed circumstances. For the individual being prosecuted it is better to emigrate, than to stay; and individual injustice is not enough to launch an uprising. Over the centuries, the Catholic Church reluctantly accepted armed resistance as a possibility under extreme circumstances (Catechism of the Catholic Church, articles 2242 & 2243),14 thus bringing itself in line with the Lutheran and Calvinist churches.

14 “2242 The citizen is obliged in conscience not to follow the directives of civil authorities when they are contrary to the demands of the moral order, to the fundamental rights of persons or the teachings of the Gospel. /Refusing obedience/ to civil authorities, when their demands are contrary to those of an upright conscience, ﬁ nds its justiﬁ cation in the distinction between serving God and serving the political community. “Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”, “We must obey God rather than men”: When citizens are under the oppression of a public authority which oversteps its competence, they should still not refuse to give or to do what is objectively demanded of them by the common good; but it is legitimate for them to defend their own rights and those of their fellow citizens against the abuse of this authority within the limits of the natural law and the Law of the Gospel.” “2243 Armed /resistance/ to oppression by political authority is not legitimate, unless all the following conditions are met: 1) there is certain, grave, and prolonged violation of fundamental rights; 2) all other means of redress have been exhausted; 3) such always turning the other cheek? 27

The ‘worldly’ scholars were more infl uenced by, and did themselves infl uence their environment. So e.g. in feudal Europe, a right to resist was accepted, as the feudal system was built on a contractual relationship; if the king did not fulfi l his obligations, his vassals were allowed to rebel. From the 17th century and onwards, especially the idealistic scholars were infl uenced by the actual development of society; certainly the Enlightenment was important, and so was its offspring, the French Revolution. The latter radically changed the concept of resistance within the idealistic worldview. From laying an emphasis on stability within society, it moves towards ‘justice’. The rights or acceptance of resistance have clearly developed much more within political thought—especially within the idealist worldview—than within the established theological worldview.15 The 20th century was the most violent in the history of the World compared by the number of wars, the duration of them and the number of casualties sustained in these wars. This century was also characterised by progressing secularisation, grooving materialism and polarised ideologies. How did Christians react to this situation? This is the topic of the next chapters.

References

Aristoteles. 1970: Politik. Zürich: Buchclub Ex Libris. Augustine. 2001. Political Writings. Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Augustinus. 2001. Letters, see Political Writings ——. 2002. Om Guds Stad. Århus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag. Bensaïd, Daniel. “Marxism—Theses of resistance”. International Viewpoint, News and analysis from the Fourth International. http://www.internationalviewpoint.org (accessed June 29, 2008). Bruce, F.F. 1991. Ausserbiblische Zeugnisse über Jesus und das frühe Christentum. Eberhard Güting, pub. Giessen / Basel: Brunen Verlag. (Translated from English: Jesus and Christian origins outside the New Testament, 1974). Burke, Edmond. 1790. Reﬂ ections on the Revolution in France—And on the Proceeding in Certain Societies in London Relative to That Event in a Letter Intended to Have Been Sent to a Gentleman in Paris. http://www.bartleby.com/24/3/ (accessed June 29, 2008). Calvin, Jean. Institutes of the Christian Religion. A New Translation by Henry Beveridge, Esq. Volume First. Edinburgh: Printed for the Calvin Translation Society, M.DCCC. XLV–M.DCCC.XLVI. http://www.iclnet.org/pub/resources/text/ipb-e/epl-09/ cvin4-22.txt (accessed June 29, 2008). resistance will not provoke worse disorders; 4) there is well-founded hope of success; and 5) it is impossible reasonably to foresee any better solution.” 15 The so-called ‘liberation theology’ is one of more exceptions to the rule. 28 søren dosenrode

Captain (Bill Uzgalis). Hugo Grotius. http://oregonstate.edu/instruct/phl302/philosophers/ grotius.html (accessed June 29, 2008). Catechism of the catholic church. Second edition. http://www.scborromeo.org/ccc/p3s2c2a4 .htm#2251 (accessed June 29, 2008). Declaration of the Rights of Man—1789. http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/rightsof .htm (accessed June 29, 2008). Fenske, Hans. 1987. “Politisches Denken von der Französischen Revolution bis zur Geg- enwart”. In Fenske, Hans; Dieter Mertens, Wolfgang Reinhard & Klaus Rosen. Geschichte der politischen Ideen. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer Verlag. Gough. See Locke. Grane, Leif. 1973. Kirkens historie—De første otte århundrede. Gyldendal. Harty, J.M. Tyrannicide, in Catholic Encyclopaedia. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/ index.html (accessed June 29, 2008). Hobbes, Thomas. 1994. Leviathan. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company. Holm, Bo Kristian. 2005. Krig—dens legitimitet i religion og politik. ANIS. Home: Wiederstandsrecht. In Lexikon. http://www.netzwelt.de/lexikon/Wiederstandsrecht .html (accessed August 16, 2006). Kouadio, Colette. ‚Hobbes‘. http://sos.philosophie.free.fr/hobbes.php (accessed August 20th, 2008). Latourette, Kenneth Scott. 1965. Christianity Through the Ages. New York: Harper & Row. http://www.religion-online.org/showbook.asp?title=532 (accessed June 29, 2008). Locke, John. 1956. The Second Treatise of Government. Edited by J.W. Gough. Oxford: Bassil Blackwell. Luther, Martin. 1953. Tischreden. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt. ——. Von der Freiheit eines Christenmenschen (De libertate christiana). Maclean, Iain. 2004. “Reformed Christianity”. In Gabriel Palmer-Fernandez (ed.). Encyclopaedia of Religion and War. London: Routledge. Marx, Karl, and Frederich Engels. 1976. Udvalgte skrifter, Vol. 1, København: Forlaget Tiden. Paine, Thomas. 1776. Common Sense. http://www.bartleby.com/133/1.html (accessed June 29, 2008). Schleitheimer Article (The Schleitheim Confession) http://www.anabaptists.org/history/schleith .html (accessed June 29, 2008). Schrock, Thomas S. 1991. “The Right to Punish and Resist Punishment in Hobbes’s Leviathan”. The Western Political Quarterly, 1991, Vol. 44, No. 4. Sieyès, Emmanuel Joseph. What is the Third Estate? http://www.thenagain.info/Classes/ Sources/Sieyes.html. CHAPTER TWO

BETWEEN CONFORMITY AND NONCONFORMITY: THE ISSUE OF NON-VIOLENT RESISTANCE IN EARLY CHRISTIANITY AND ITS RELEVANCE TODAY

Johannes Nissen

Introduction

The term “resistance” can have different meanings. According to James F. Childress, we may deﬁ ne resistance as standing against or opposing other persons, groups or institutions, especially the state—for example the resistance movements in the various countries in World War II (Childress 1986, 539). Childress continues by pointing to two crucial passages in the New Testament: the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount not to resist one who is evil (Matthew 5:39), and the words of Paul that he who resists the authorities resists what God has appointed and those who will resist will incur judgement (Romans 13:2). Childress claims that the practice of most Christians, who have taken these and other New Testament texts seriously, can be described as ‘passive resistance’. However, if the term ‘resistance’ implies efforts to effect or prevent social and political change, their actions might better be viewed as non-compliance or conscientious objection. Instead of passively obeying rulers, Christians have refused to comply with law, orders, or demands that conﬂ ict with God’s will, usually accepting the consequences of non-compliance (which might be martyrdom). Such a non-compliance is consistent with the division of loyalties between God and Caesar (cf. Mark 12:13–17) and also with the statement about obeying God rather than men (Acts 5:29). However, Christians have frequently disagreed about where to draw the line between what belongs to God and what belongs to Caesar. It is not possible to limit God’s sphere to the inner life, since faith always requires some actions such as worshipping God and avoiding idolatry (Childress 1986, 540). 30 johannes nissen

If there is confusion between the terms ‘non-resistance’ and ‘passivism’, a similar point may be made in relation to the terms ‘pacifi sm’ and ‘passivism’. This understanding of pacifi sm is often based on a misinterpretation of Matthew 5:39: Jesus is seen as commanding non- resistance rather than non-violence. Consequently, some pacifi sts have refused to engage in non-violent, direct action or civil disobedience on the ground that such action is coercive. However, the root of the word pacifi sm must be noted. This word is contracted from two Latin words pax and facere (meaning ‘peace’ and ‘to make’). The disciples are called to be ‘peacemakers’ (Matthew 5:9). Any Christian understanding of pacifi sm should start with an active interpretation of the word. Furthermore, the difference between the two words, pacifi sm and non-violence, must not be overlooked because the former designates an active movement and the latter a passive attitude (Bartsch 1969, 185–86). A note on the word ‘peace’ should be added. It is often understood in a static way as the absence of war. There is, however, a need for a more dynamic concept. The document The Challenge of Peace rightly observes: Peace is not merely the absence of war. Nor can it be reduced solely to the maintenance of a balance of power between enemies. Nor is it brought about by dictatorship. Instead, it is rightly and appropriately called ‘an enterprise of justice’ (Isaiah 32:7) (The Challenge of Peace 1983, 11). This article will address the question: Is it legitimate to employ violence in defence of justice? The question will be discussed on the basis of two issues that are closely related: The issue of ‘Christians and the state’, and the issue of ‘violence, non-violence and love of enemies’. The article is divided in two major parts dealing with the two issues. Each part offers both a historical analysis and hermeneutical refl ections. Often, these elements are seen as two separate processes of work. This, however, is not how I see them. I am not arguing that the relation between historical analysis and hermeneutics can be solved by way of direct ‘application’ of the texts. Instead, we need an interaction between biblical text and contemporary experiences. Our way of reading the text is affected by the time in which we live. Even if we try to be as historically accurate as possible, we come to the Bible with some specifi c questions. Due to the scope of this article, the historical analysis is limited to some key passages. This means that I am not giving any detailed analy- the issue of non-violent resistance 31 sis of all relevant passages. Instead, the main emphasis will be on the principal questions, including some hermeneutical perspectives.1

The Christians and the state

Romans 13:1–17 and its ‘Wirkungsgeschichte’ It is appropriate to start with a few methodological reﬂ ections.2 In the past, books and articles were published with titles such as “the NT attitude to the state”, or “the NT doctrine of church and state”. But such titles are not very accurate, since the New Testament does not offer any doctrine of the state or any teaching about the political authorities. It seems to be more adequate to speak of ‘political obedience’, ‘the governing authorities’, or ‘the question of power in early Christianity’ than to speak of the ‘state’. Romans 13:1–7 has often been seen as the biblical view on the church- state issue. As J. O’Neill noticed: These seven verses have caused more unhappiness and misery in the Christian East and West than any other verses in the New Testament by the licence they have been given to tyrants, and the support for tyrants the Church has felt called on to offer as the result of Romans 13 in the canon (O’Neill 1975, 209). It is beyond dispute that Romans 13:1–7 is the locus classicus of Paul’s view of the state. Unfortunately, it has often been wrenched from its historical and literary context and read as requiring uncritical obedience to the state, no matter how unjust and pernicious the regime (Verhey 1984, 120). Any reading of the text today must take into account the fact that it has played a signiﬁ cant role in twentieth century politics (McDonald 1993, 195). Romans 13 is considered the chief biblical ground for the doctrine of the two kingdoms. Since the ‘Wirkungsgeschichte’ (effects of history) of a text is of great importance, a few words should be added on this doctrine related to Romans 13.

1 For a more detailed discussion of both issues see (Nissen 2003, 69–136; 2005, 17–39). 2 For a more detailed discussion see (Nissen 2000, 240–262). 32 johannes nissen

A clear distinction should be made between Luther himself and later Lutheran tradition. In Luther’s argumentation of the doctrine of the two kingdoms, the eschatological dimension plays a dominant role. This element has been lost in later generations. Therefore, the doctrine has led to a church-centeredness and to a dualism. Now it is argued that there is an important difference between God’s rule of power in the world and his rule of grace through the gospel. The purpose of power is to serve as dike against sin, to preserve law and order and prevent human beings from destroying each other by taking the law into their own hands. By means of power, the state should provide justice. Its function was seen as anti-chaotic. Conservative Lutheranism developed a theology of ‘order’ rooted in cosmic design. This interpretation must be challenged by several points. Firstly, one should notice that the emphasis in Romans 13 does not lie on the state as such, but on the Christians and their behaviour towards the state. What Paul is doing is making a moral statement, not a metaphysical one. He is not speaking of the nature of all political reality, nor does he describe an ideal social order, but he is speaking of the present situation of Roman Christians. Secondly, it could be argued that God is not said to create, institute or ordain the powers that be, but only to order them, to put in order, sovereignly to tell them where they belong, and what is their place. Thirdly, in the doctrine of the two kingdoms, the problem is how power and love can be united with each other. Furthermore, power is usually deﬁ ned as something negative, it is often identiﬁ ed with violence. Therefore, violence became a legitimate violence. The sword is carried by the state (Romans 13:4) in order to create peace and justice in a world which is not redeemed. The wrath of God corresponds to the fact that human beings are exploiting each other. There is a tendency to consider love as something operating in the individual sphere and to let powers and violence be active in the structures of society, but is this distinction possible? One might ask why the passage on non-violent resistance from the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:38–42) has been referred only to the personal sphere of life, whereas the instruction concerning submission to the state in Romans 13 has been turned into an abstract principle with eternal value? Both texts should be seen in their historical contexts before identifying their meaning for us today. the issue of non-violent resistance 33

Doing good or evil This brief survey of Romans 13 in a Lutheran context tells us about the effects of the text on its readers. At the same time, it underlines the importance of a historical analysis of the text. The socio-historical context has been explained in many ways. The most reasonable, however, is that which takes its starting point in v. 6. In other words: The topic in Romans 13:1–7 is not ‘the state’ and the main appeal of these verses is not to ‘be subject’ to it. The admonition to ‘be subject’ opens the paragraph (v. 1) and it is repeated in v. 5 but these verses are preliminary to the main appeal, which is to pay whatever kind of taxes one owes, vv. 6–7 (Furnish 1979, 126). If this socio-historical interpretation is correct, Paul sought to detach the Roman Christians from political involvements which put at risk their single-minded concentration on faith priorities (McDonald 1993, 195). The literary context is also important. Romans 13:1–7 is part of a greater unit beginning in Romans 12:1–2. At the outset of the whole passage of Romans 12–13, a reference is made to the ‘mercies of God’. In the ending of the same passage, Paul is referring to the command to love our neighbour (Romans 13:8–10) and to the end of time (13:11–14). Thus Paul is setting the passage within a double bracket. The link between Romans 13:1–7 and its literary context highlights three points which have theological importance. The fi rst point is that Christians must seek to do what is good according to God’s will. This is articulated in the introductory appeal of 12:2; it is also mentioned in 12:9 and again in 12:17–21 and yet again in the midst of 13:1–7: ‘do what is good’ (13:3b). Furthermore, Paul’s conviction about what a government ought to do for its citizens, and his convictions about what a Christian ought to do for his society, are both governed by his concept of what is good (Moulder 1977, 18). The second point is the reference to the conscience in 13:5. Submission must be in harmony with the conscience and it is the implication of the demand to do good. Therefore, it could include more than just obedience. Submission is not the same as blind obedience. The appeal to the conscience in 13:5 corresponds to the appeal to the renewed mind in 12:2. In this verse, Paul speaks of the man who has been ‘transformed by the renewal of your mind’. The renewed reason is a reason dominated by the love of God which is in Jesus Christ, justifying the ungodly and liberating them from sin’s enslaving power, “that 34 johannes nissen you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2). The third point is the exhortation “do not be conformed to this age” (12:2), e.g. do not take over the lifestyle and thinking of this world. There is a certain tension between this call for non-conformity and Romans 13:2 with its appeal to conformity. Nevertheless, Paul’s statement in 12:2 points forward to 13:11 where he expresses the hope in the salvation which is “nearer than we fi rst believed”. This means that the policy urged in Romans 13 is seen from the perspective of the end of time. For the short time involved, Christians are to bear with the authorities, under whom God has placed them. In summary, Romans 13 is an example of a strategy of conformity. Similar strategies can be found in other texts, e.g. 1 Timothy 2:2, which is about intercession for the emperors (Heiligenthal 1983). This strategy is based on the idea that the state promotes what is good. The situation of a confl ict between demands made by the Roman magistrates and the Christian conscience is not taken into consideration in Romans 13, simply because it had not arisen. A confl ict between conformity and non-conformity might arise in other circumstances (Schottroff 1984). In such cases, Paul would have been more critical to the state. His basic conviction is similar to the statement in Acts 5:29: “we ought to obey God rather than men”. Hints at such a confl ict are given in 1 Corinthians 6:1–8; cf. also Ephes 6:10–18.

Other New Testament perspectives Romans 13 is by no means the only text relating to the issue of governing authorities in the New Testament. Here are a few notes on some other texts. 1 Peter 2:13–17 has many items in common with Romans 13, but its orientation is different. Particularly in the beginning and closing verse, the author is displaying a reservation which is absent in Romans 13. Thus, in v. 17, it is said: “Honour all men, love the brotherhood, fear God, honour the emperor”. A clear distinction is made: fear God, honour the emperor. That means: only God should be feared, the governor should be honoured. 1 Peter is also characterized by a balance between loyalty and critical distance (e.g. Heiene 1992). On the one hand, the eschatological situation is emphasized. The readers are “aliens” and “exiles” (2:11–12). On the other hand, they are exhorted to accept the the issue of non-violent resistance 35 authority of every human institution. Bruce Winter has convincingly argued that a paradigm for the role of Christians in society can be found in the exhortation of Jeremiah 29:7: “Seek the welfare of the city” (Winter 1994). Revelation 13 is quite different from Romans 13. In Revelation, there is a passionate protest against the totalitarian type of political rule (especially ch. 13 and 14). The Roman state appears to be the slave of Satan, but the author does not appeal to revolution in the sense of violence. We have an ethics of sufferings, but unlike 1 Peter 2:13–17 it is not combined with submission to the state. For Revelation is the gospel of hope, at the same time it is the basis of a religious criticism of society and power. The book implies a theology of liberation and a theology of martyrdom. Like the rest of the New Testament, God’s justice should be comprehended in the context of the cross. Other texts relating to our issue are sayings of Jesus from the gospels. Recent postcolonial studies underline that Jesus’ life and work were undertaken at a time when Galilee was under imperial occupation. Though the Roman Empire was noticeably different from modern empires, certain features are common to all empires—they subjugate people, deprive them of freedom, inculcate the values of the invaders and seize the cultural heritage and property of the invaded. Roman rule in Palestine engaged in all these activities. As a whole, the gospel narratives do not record any explicit resistance by Jesus against the colonial occupiers (Sugirtharajah 2002, 86). Nevertheless, there are sayings which reﬂ ect a critical attitude.3 So, for instance, in the tradition of Mark 10:35–45, there are some critical remarks on the power issue. In this tradition, the followers of Jesus are seen as an ‘alternative’ community. The ethos of the community is deﬁ ned in the face of worldly power structure: You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant . . .

3 Sugirtharajah points to four sayings of Jesus in which kings and earthly rulers ﬁ gure. “What emerges from these sayings is that they provide an occasion for Jesus to contrast the standard of behaviour expected in the counter-cultural egalitarian society envisioned and advocated by him with the standard of behaviour promoted by those of ‘the world’” (Sugirtharajah 2002, 87). 36 johannes nissen

Jesus’ saying has two aspects (Duchrow 1995, 187). On the one had, it summarises a whole political-economic analysis: Rome and its accomplices in the upper class in Palestine’s centre and periphery represents nothing but oppression and violent exploitation. Saying this clearly is in itself liberating. It creates distance. It deprives the system of any legitimation. It de-ideologises it. On the other hand, the alternative is beginning among you: mutual service. Serving is here understood as typifying a counter-culture in which exploitation and oppressive authority are put aside. By contrast, the famous passage of Mark 12:13–17 has often been taken as a support for the doctrine of the two kingdoms. Based on Jesus’ saying in v. 17 (“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s”) it is often asserted that Jesus accepted the existence of two separate realms, Caesar’s and God’s. However, as argued by Richard Cassidy, Jesus really taught and acted in terms of only one realm: God’s. Far from having any kind of independent existence of its own, Caesar’s realm, the social order of the Roman Empire, was in Jesus’ view a part of the larger order of creation, whose only author was God. Therefore the Roman’s social patterns were to be evaluated against the standard of the social patterns desired by God, and supported or not on that basis (Cassidy 1978, 58). Furthermore, it should be noticed that Jesus was not here offering a deﬁ nitive ruling on relations between his followers and the state but a clever, if ambiguous, answer, given in a situation where he had been put in a tight corner by his opponents (Rowland and Corner 1990, 108). The protest of the Jewish leaders against Roman oppression was hypocritical. This is the main point in Jesus’ answer to the question about paying of taxes to Caesar. In his answer, he reveals not only the hypocrisy and insincerity of the question but also the real motive behind the taxation issue: greed for money. Jesus is saying: It is not God’s money but Caesar’s money. If you refuse to give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar then it can only be because you are a lover of money. According to this view, the real issue at stake was oppression itself, and not the fact that a pagan Roman dared to oppress God’s chosen people. The root cause of oppression was man’s lack of compassion. The policy of Jesus was different from that of Zealots, because their struggle had nothing to do with genuine liberation. They were ﬁ ghting for Jewish nationalism, Jewish superiority and Jewish religious prejudice. the issue of non-violent resistance 37

True liberation means taking up the cause of man as man. To love your enemies is to live in solidarity with all men and to take up the cause of man as man (Nolan 1977, 95–97; cf. Duchrow 1995, 189).

Selective Bible reading and the method of correlation Still other texts dealing with the issues of the state and the power are relevant (see the analysis in Nissen 2003). Here, however, I shall limit myself to some remarks on the method of reading and using the biblical texts. We tend to use the Bible to reinforce what we believe. None of us can fully overcome the problem of selective Bible reading, but we can correct wrong notions by a serious study of the biblical text and by following a method which helps us to hear the text on its own terms. Our tendency to read the texts selectively is related to the whole process of understanding. Scholars speak of the method of correlation or the ‘hermeneutics of correspondence’ (McDonald 1993, 224). Correlation between the horizon of our world and the horizon of the text is a key factor in interpretation. Imperfect correlation is almost bound to be tendentious: as in the ‘modernizing’ of Jesus and the ‘domestication’ of the Bible. A proper correlation depends on ‘distan- tiation’, the differentiation of worlds, so that each of them is treated with integrity, but also involves the participation of the interpreter in the dynamics of the text, and the theological reﬂ ection on issues arising from it. If carelessly correlated to the modern situation, a text might be morally objectionable: for example, if it were used to stir up prejudice, racism or sexism, to justify violence or war or to further greed and power (McDonald 1993, 244). This is what has occurred with Romans 13 when used by some Chris- tians in Hitler’s Germany to support the Nazi regime, or when used by white people in South Africa to support the Apartheid regime. A corrective to a one-sided interpretation of Romans 13 can be found in Revelation. Here, we have a book which today serves as a potent resource supplying the subversive memory of the poor and oppressed. Its stark contrasts and uncompromising critique can appeal to those who ﬁ nd little hope in compromise with the powers-that-be and demand something more than a meek acceptance that ‘the way of the world’ is what God intended (Rowland and Corner 1990, 146). The author of Revelation has adopted the ‘perspective from below’ and has expressed 38 johannes nissen the experience of those who were poor, powerless, and in constant fear of denunciation (Fiorenza 1993, 128). However, like the adherents of apartheid, liberation theology is facing the risk of reading the biblical text naively: one takes from the text only what serves the interest of the reader. Biblical passages are used as ‘proofs’ for pre-established theological attitudes (Rowland and Corner 1990, 68). Analogy is often a word used in connection with the use of the Bible in decision-making. One should, however, avoid arguing that one searches the Scripture for a situation fully analoguous to some modern situation. I would prefer to speak of putting biblical materials and modern situation into dialogue rather than into analogies.

Assimilation, critical distance and critical solidarity Basically, there are three ways of understanding the relationship between church and state (Duchrow 1976):

1. Assimilation: all values and structures of the church are assimilated to the structures in society as such. 2. Alienation: this is a resistance to the structures of society. In this case the church develops values, acts and symbols, which are totally different from society. 3. Involvement (or commitment): the church aims at being independent from society; at the same time, it attempts to inﬂ uence society through its witness, belief, acts and structures.

In the 1970’s, the Lutheran World Federation carried out a study on the doctrine of the two kingdoms in its member churches. Based on this investigation, Ulrich Duchrow developed six models of use (or abuse) of the doctrine (Duchrow 1977). These models can be seen as specifying the three alternatives. The ﬁ rst three models are all variations of the model of assimilation: passive assimilation, active assimilation, and veiled assimilation. These models are characterized as an abuse of the doctrine of the two kingdoms. The biblical basis is Romans 13; however, these interpretations are not supported by a historical analysis of the text. The fourth model is that of passive distance. It corresponds to the model of alienation. Here, the state is conceived of as demonic, and the church is living as a sect in a ghetto. This model has many similarities with the Book of Revelation. the issue of non-violent resistance 39

The remaining two models are considered to be correct uses of the doctrine. The fi fth model is termed the model of critical-constructive participation, i.e. the notion of critical solidarity (Duchrow 1977, 277). The sixth model is characterized as the model of critical-active resistance. In both models, church and state should cooperate in promoting justice—the emphasis on doing what is good in Romans 12–13. If, however, such cooperation is made impossible—because the state has become a totalitarian system, the church has no alternative but resistance. The biblical foundation for this option is Acts 5:29. Both formation and malformation can be the result of the encounter of the churches with the public world. Instead of being agents of just social transformation, churches too often uncritically conform to unjust social and economic patterns within their cultural and national contexts. The result is moral malformation of the membership of the churches, which inevitably has a similar infl uence on the wider society (Best and Robra 1997, 62). Such malformation was notably the case in South Africa during the apartheid regime.4 “The Kairos Document” of 1986 examines three ways of relating to the state. The fi rst two of these are malformations. The fi rst form is called “State Theology” which is defi ned as the theological justifi cation of the status quo . . . It blesses injustice, canon- izes the will of the powerful and reduces the poor to passivity, obedience and apathy (Kairos Document 1986, 17). The second form is termed “Church Theology”. It does not claim apartheid as God’s will, but its criticism of it is said to be “limited, guarded and cautious”. “. . . instead of engaging in an in-depth analysis of signs of our times, it relies upon a few stock ideas derived from Christian tradition and then uncritically applies them to our situation” (Kairos Document 1986, 25). The document calls for a third form which is characterized as “Pro- phetic Theology”. The fi rst task must be “an attempt at social analysis or what Jesus would call ‘reading the signs of the times’ (Mt 16:3)” (Kairos Document 1986, 37). In contrast to the “State Theology”, the “Prophetic Theology” insists that

4 Cf. also chapter 10 on Desmond Tutu in this book. 40 johannes nissen

a Church that takes its responsibilities seriously in the circumstances will sometimes have to confront and disobey the State in order to obey God (Kairos Document 1986, 50). Today—in a post-apartheid situation—prophetic theology is still needed, but its role has been changed. John de Gruchy notes that the struggle is no longer to be understood in terms of resistance and liberation, but in terms of reconstruction and transformation. As in the case of the East German ‘church in socialism’ so the prophetic task of the church in post-Apartheid South Africa must be redeﬁ ned in terms of critical solidarity . . . Being in critical solidarity means giving support to those initiatives which may lead to the establishment not only of a new but also of a just, social order . . . Being in critical solidarity means continued resistance to what is unjust and false, and continued protest on behalf of what is just and true (de Gruchy 1995, 222; italics by the author).

Passivity, violent resistance or non-violent resistance

The second issue is about violence and non-violence. The crucial question is whether it is legitimate to use violence in defence of justice. The New Testament contains a number of texts that seem to suggest that this question must be answered in the negative, but human experience presents us with many situations that appear to require violent action to oppose evil.

Matthew 5:38–48 and the Sermon on the Mount A key passage in this discussion is the fi fth and sixth antitheses in the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5:38–48. This passage has played a signifi cant role in later Christian tradition. The seeming impossibility of Jesus’ teaching has led Christians to propose various interpretations that diminish the normative claim of the text. The most infl uential of these interpretations may be summarized as follows (Hays 1997, 320):

1. These words offer a vision of life in the eschatological kingdom of God; thus the words are not literally to be put in practice under the conditions of present early existence (e.g. Reinhold Niebuhr’s ‘impossible ideal’). the issue of non-violent resistance 41

2. These words prescribe an ‘interim ethic’ for the followers of Jesus on the assumption that the end of history is to occur very soon—so soon that one need not consider the long-term results of attempting to live this perfectionist ethic. 3. These words literally forbid self-defence, but they do not preclude ﬁ ghting in defence of an innocent third party (e.g. Augustine). 4. These words are a ‘counsel of perfection’ (cf. Matthew 5:48). They apply only to those who aspire to belong to a special class of Chris- tians, such as monks or clergy, not to the general run of believers (the traditional Catholic interpretation). 5. These words serve to show how impossible it is to live up to God’s standard of righteousness (see Matthew 5:20); thus, they convict our consciences and show that we are sinners in need of grace (cf. the traditional Lutheran interpretation).

An exegetical consideration of the passage in its broader Matthean context will demonstrate that none of these proposals render a satisfactory account of Matthew’s theological vision. The passage has to be interpreted within the scope of the Sermon on the Mount and therefore it is part of Jesus’ basic training on the life of discipleship. The Beatitudes describe reality in such a way that the usual order of things is seen to be upside down in the eyes of God (Matthew 5:3–12). The disciples are called to be ‘the salt’ and ‘the light’ for the world (Matthew 5:13–16) and thereby embody God’s alternative reality through the character qualities marked by the Beatitudes. The community of Jesus’ followers is to be ‘a city built on a hill’, a model polis that demonstrates the counterintuitive peaceful politics of God’s new order. In sum, the kingdom of God as ﬁ gured forth in Matthew 5 is full of surprises. Matthew offers a vision of a radical countercultural community of discipleship characterized by a ‘higher righteousness’—a community free of anger, lust, falsehood and violence. The transcendence of violence through loving the enemy is the most salient feature of this new model polis; it is noteworthy that the antitheses dealing with these themes stand at the climactic conclusion of the unit (5:38–48). Instead of wielding the power of violence, the community of Jesus’ disciples is to be meek, merciful, pure, devoted to peacemaking, and willing to suffer persecution—and blessed precisely in its faithfulness to this paradoxical vision (Hays 1997, 322). 42 johannes nissen

The transcendence of violence through loving the enemy In the present article, special attention should be paid to the fi fth antithesis. The traditional understanding of “do not resist an evildoer” in Matthew 5:39a has been non-resistance to evil. The fi rst part of the verse is often translated as “resist not evil”. Walter Wink demonstrates that this way of translating the Greek word antistenai has changed the non-violent resistance into docility. Jesus did not tell his oppressed listeners not to resist evil. That would have been absurd. His entire ministry is at odds with such an idea. The Greek word is made up of two parts: anti, “against”, and histemi, a verb which in its noun form (statis) means violent rebellion, armed revolt, sharp dissension (cf. Mark 15:7 and Acts 19:40). Therefore, a proper translation of Matth 5:39a would be: ‘Do not strike back at evil (or one who has done you evil) in kind. Do not give blow for blow. Do not retaliate against violence with violence’. Jesus was no less committed to opposing evil than the anti-Roman resistance fi ghters. The only difference was over the means to be used. The issue was how—not whether—one should fi ght evil (Wink 1998a, 35). There are three general responses to evil: (1) passivity, (2) violent opposition, and (3) the third way of non-violent opposition. In most cases, the option has been between the fi rst two of these responses: fi ght or fl ight. Either we do not resist or we resist violently. But to an oppressed people Jesus is saying: Do not continue to acquiesce in the oppression performed by the authorities, but do not react violently to it either. Rather, fi nd a third way, a way that is neither submission nor assault, fl ight nor fi ght, a way that can secure your human dignity and begin to change the power equation, even now, before the revolution (Wink 1998b, 110). The admonition in 5:39a is followed by three loosely connected sayings of verses 39b–42 that all serve as illustrations of the peacemaking and generous character that the teaching of Jesus seeks to inculcate. The posture of the disciples is not to be one of passivity. The actions positively prescribed here are parabolic gestures of renunciation and service. By doing more than what the oppressors require, the disciples bear witness to another reality (the kingdom of God), a reality in which peacefulness, service, and generosity are valued above self-defence and personal rights. Thus, the prophetic non-resistance of the community may not only confound the enemy, but also pose an opportunity for the enemy to be converted to the truth of God’s kingdom. The admonition the issue of non-violent resistance 43 not to strike back is one of several “focal instances” that fi guratively depict the Matthean vision for the community of discipleship. It is not simply a rule prohibiting a certain action; rather, it is a symbolic pointer to the character of the peaceful city on the hill (Hays 1997, 326). The meaning of the sayings in 5:39b–42 is to take the law and push it to the point of absurdity. The sayings are not rules to be followed legalistically, but examples to spark an infi nite variety of creative responses in new and challenging circumstances. They break the circle of humiliation with humor and even ridicule, exposing the injustice of the system.5 Thus, an analysis of the fi fth antithesis demonstrates that it should be interpreted as non-violent resistance rather than non-resistance or passivity. This understanding is also confi rmed by the close connection of the fi fth antithesis with the sixth antithesis. Non-retaliation must be followed up by a positive action: love of enemies. A similar point is underlined by Paul in Romans 12:21: “Overcome evil with good”. Jesus’ command to love enemies (Matthew 5:43–47) must have appeared shocking in a society where love was largely restricted to the confi nes of the tightly-knit ethnic or religious group, and where hatred of the foreign oppressor was preached with religious fervour. Clan solidarity is a phenomenon common to many cultures. The group dynamics of God’s kingdom are very different: characterized—not by exclusiveness or defensiveness but by openness to others that, indeed, refl ects the openness of God to his children. The community must reach out to those who oppose it, and always seek “to overcome evil with good”, Romans 12:21 (Nissen 1995, 140). The centrality of the enemy love in the Synoptic gospels is beyond question. It is also beyond question that Jesus’ command to love one’s enemy must be seen in the light of his announcement of the inbreak- ing kingdom of God. Enemy love is a surprising, radical inversion of common folk morality which is a distinctive mark not only of the earliest traditions in the New Testament, but also of the succeeding development in the second and third century (Nissen 1995, 141). Romans 12:14–21 is the most important Pauline passage that deals directly with the issue of violence. It has so many similarities to the

5 Cf. Wink, 1998b, 110. Even if non-violent action does not immediately change the heart of the oppressors, it does affect those committed to it. As Martin Luther King, Jr., attested, it gives them new self-respect and calls on strength and courage they did not know they had (Wink 1998a, 40). 44 johannes nissen

Sermon on the Mount that it seems to be inspired by the teaching of Jesus. Though the authorities of the state bears the sword to execute God’s wrath (Romans 13:4), that is not the role of the Christians. They are never to take vengeance (12:19), but to bless their persecutors and minister to their enemies, returning good for evil. The refusal to pay back in kind is one of the most profound and difﬁ cult truths in the Bible. Since our hate is usually a direct response to an evil done to us, our hate often causes us to respond in terms already laid down by the enemy. Unaware of what is happening, we turn into the very thing we oppose. The ultimate weakness of violence observed Martin Luther King, Jr., is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy (quoted in Wink 1998b, 124). The struggle against evil can make us evil. Therefore, the way of non- violence is the only way that is able to overcome evil without creating new forms of evil and making us evil in turn.

Other New Testament texts The issue of violence, non-violence and love of enemies is addressed in many other texts.6 In these texts, we fi nd a consistent witness against violence and calling to the believers to follow the example of Jesus in accepting suffering rather than infl icting it (Hays 1997, 332). Yet, a few New Testament texts are sometimes taken to support the use of violence. One example is Jesus’ use of ‘force’ in cleansing the temple (Mark 11:15–19). However, this ‘violent’ activity must be understood as an act of prophetic symbolism. A second example is the Revelation which is sometimes taken as a warrant for warlike attitude among Christians. But the Christians conquer the power of evil through “the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony” (Rev 12:11), not through recourse to violence; cf. also the fi rst part of this article. A third category is the gospel narratives on the expulsion of the demons. These narratives are sometimes interpreted in the light of Old Testament traditions on the holy war. However, they are not about a

6 For a more full treatment of the issue see my book (Nissen 2003, 69–106). the issue of non-violent resistance 45 literal use of violence. The purpose of the expulsions of demons is to demonstrate the healing of human beings. The crucial thing about these narratives is that Jesus is making peace. In this way, he is transforming the Old Testament motive of war. Still another example would be Ephes 6:10–17 which offers a description of the militia Christi, the service in Christ’s army. So far from having any connection with military service, it is incompatible with it. The struggle of the community is not against human adversaries, but against ‘spiritual forces of darkness’, and its weapons are truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and the word of God. In fact, these metaphors witness against the use of violence and they witness for peace, cf. 6:15: “as shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace”.

Bible, tradition, reason and experience A major hermeneutical issue that New Testament ethics must confront is the question of the authority of the New Testament texts in relation to other possible sources of authority for theology. These other sources are tradition, reason and experience: When we come to the issue of violence and non-violence, we see a clear tension between the unambiguous witness of the New Testament canon and the apparently countervailing forces of tradition, reason and experience. R. Niebuhr for instance, is able to justify the use of violence because he consciously and emphatically gives reason and experience decisive roles in Christian ethics. Against this position, R. Hays claims that the extra biblical sources are not independent, counterbalancing sources of authority. That is to say: tradition, reason, and experience come into play in enabling us to interpret Scripture; they cannot be used simply to overrule or dismiss the witness of the Bible (Hays 1997, 341). As to the role of tradition, the evidence is somewhat ambiguous. Although in the fi rst three centuries, Christians were decidedly pacifi sts, Christian tradition from the time of Constantine to the present has predominantly endorsed war, or at least justifi ed it under certain conditions. In the following centuries, the theory of just war was developed considerably. However, it is not possible to use the just war tradition as a hermeneutical device for illumination of the New Testament, nor have the defenders of the tradition ordinarily even attempted to do 46 johannes nissen so.7 The majority of church tradition therefore must be corrected in light of the New Testament material. At the same time, one should not overlook a signifi cant minority which is against violence, beginning with the New Testament writers themselves, and extending through the writer of the Epistle to Diognetus, Tertullian, Francis of Assisi, the Anabaptists, the Quakers, Dorothy Day, Martin Luther King, Jr. and forward into present time.

Pacifism and the theory of just war There have been three main streams of Christian refl ection on peace, violence and war—that of allowing some just wars which Christian rulers could declare and in which Christian soldiers could fi ght; that of reckoning some wars to be of divine command, crusades; that which has declared all wars and participation in them entirely forbidden to the Christians ( Jones 1998, 215). In this context, the focus is primarily on the disagreement between pacifi sm and the just war tradition.8 Various writers present slightly different lists, but most just-war theo- rists agree that the essential conditions that must be met before going to war can be considered justifi ed are:9

1. The war must have a just cause. 2. It must be waged by a legitimate authority (cf. Romans 13). 3. It must be formally declared. 4. It must be fought with a peaceful intention. 5. It must be a last resort. 6. There must be reasonable hope of success. 7. The means used must possess proportionality to the end sought.

In the pastoral letter entitled The Challenge of Peace: God’s Promise and Our Responses by the National Conference of Catholic Bishops (USA), a distinction is made between ethical norms and their speciﬁ c use (‘politics’). In the beginning of the document it is said: Peacemaking is not an optional commitment. It is a requirement of our faith. We are called to be peacemakers, not by some movement of the moment, but by our Lord (The Challenge of Peace 1983, 6).

7 The one signiﬁ cant exception to this generalization is Paul Ramsay (cf. Hays 1997, 341, 346). 8 On the third category of ‘crusades’ see Elford 2001, 155–177. 9 See also chapter 1 in this book. the issue of non-violent resistance 47

Later on it is said that there is an acceptable diversity in the Christian congregation. Some argue in favour of pacifi sm, others in favour of the just war theory, but both of these are legitimate positions within the Christian context. There is often a confusion between the just war theory and other forms of violence. Some would think of the entirely different idea of the holy war or crusade, which is a total war aimed at the utter subjugation or extermination of an enemy. Others who believe that they are advocates of just war are in reality supporting a political war or a war of national interests, or the war is pursued for the sake of egocentricity. Walter Wink proposes that we terminate all talk of ‘just wars’. Even as the word ‘pacifi sm’ sounds too much like ‘passivity’, ‘just war’ sounds too much like ‘war is justifi able’. Instead, he suggests that we rename the just-war criteria ‘violence-reduction criteria’. That is, after all, what most of us are after. We are not seeking a rationale for legitimating particular wars, but ways of stopping warfare before it starts and decreasing its horrors once it begins. In fact, advocates of non-violence and just war theory agree on several key points (Wink 1998b, 140):

1. Both acknowledge that non-violence is in principle preferable to violence. 2. Both agree that the innocent must be protected as much as possible. 3. Both reject any defence of a war motivated solely by a crusade mentality or national interests or personal egocentricity. 4. Both wish to persuade states to reduce the levels of violence. 5. Both wish to hold war accountable to moral values before, during and after the conﬂ ict.

Churches and reconciliation Over and over again, we are facing situations that appear to require violent action to oppose evil. An often-cited example is Dietrich Bon- hoeffer’s decision to participate in a plot to kill Hitler.10 Similarly, some

10 According to Wink, Bonhoeffer’s involvement in the death plot against Hitler must be seen against the backdrop of the churches’ ignorance of its own non-violent message. He joined the plot to assassinate Hitler in the absence of any non-violent options. But he never attempted to justify his involvement as right. He insisted that his act was sin, and threw himself on the mercy of God (Wink 1998b, 153). Cf. also chapter 6 on Bonhoeffer in this book. 48 johannes nissen proponents of liberation theology have advocated revolutionary violence against oppressors.11 And Christian theology, at least since the time of Augustine’s City of God, has usually countenanced the participation of believers in police forces and armies deemed necessary for the preservation of order and a relative approximation of justice (Hays 1997, 317–18).12 However, violence can never stop violence because its very success leads others to imitate it (Wink 1998b, 154). Non-violence is at the heart of the gospel, and it is the task of the church to spread this leaven into the life of the church. One might say that Christian pacifi sm is not an end in itself but rather the presupposition of the Christian witness. Its foundation is the love of God which is shed upon us through Jesus Christ and which cannot be accepted by participating in a war. The meaning of Christian pacifi sm is therefore not to make it righteous to carry out a principle; it is, rather, to be disciples of our Lord. It is not necessary to insist on a principle (Bartsch 1969, 197). Pacifi sm is gospel, not law. Peacemaking is a fundamental task of discipleship. In an article entitled “Just Peacemaking”, Duane Friesen, a Mennonite, and Glen Stassen, a Baptist, share a vision based on three theological convictions: First, biblical discipleship is grounded in the life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Second, the church is the eschatological ‘sign’ of God’s reign in the world, embodied in a concrete gathering of persons who seek to discern together what just peacemaking means and to model peacemaking practices in our corporate and individual lives. Third, the church must be committed to seek the peace of the city where she dwells ( Jer 29:7). The task of the church is to further God’s reign neither by withdrawal or quietism nor by uncritical support of or reliance on the government—but by engaging in the issues

11 It is noteworthy that ‘just revolution’ can be defi ned in almost similar criteria as the just war theory. See Jones 1998, 220–21. 12 A glance at church history shows that at different periods and in different places, the church developed different ways of being. Ulrich Duchrow and Gerhard Liedke distinguish four types: (1) the Jesus-style peace church: Refusal to participate in violent power at the cost of suffering and building an alternative community; (2) the liturgical- eucharistic-contemplative way of being the church: Symbolic community life in God’s love; (3) the institutional church: Taming the power or being tamed by power? (4) the liberation church: Rejection or transformation of the systems of power in solidarity with the parts of humanity and creation oppressed by violence; Duchrow and Liedke 1987, 155–174. According to the authors, the fi rst and the fourth type are to be preferred since both of them have a solid biblical basis (pp. 172–173). See also note 13. the issue of non-violent resistance 49 of peace and justice activity in the brokenness of the world (Friesen and Stassen 1998, 61). At the end of this contribution, I want to elaborate on each of these points. The fi rst point is about the Christological foundation of peacemaking. The transcendence of violence is closely related to the ministry of Jesus. The crucifi ed Messiah challenges violence in four ways (Volf 1996, 291–95).

1. The cross breaks the cycle of violence. Hanging on the cross, Jesus provided the ultimate example of his command to replace the principle of retaliation with the principle of non-resistance (cf. Matthew 5:38–42). By suffering violence as an innocent victim, he took upon himself the aggression of the persecutors. He refused to be sucked into the automatism of revenge, but sought to overcome evil by doing good—even at the cost of his life. 2. The cross lays bare the mechanism of scapegoat. One of the functions of the gospel accounts is to de-mask this mechanism. Instead of taking the perspective of the persecutors, the gospels take the perspective of the victim. 3. The cross is part of Jesus’ struggle for God’s truth and justice. Jesus’ mission certainly did not consist merely in passively receiving violence. To be signiﬁ cant, non-violence must be part of a larger strategy of combating the system of terror. Active opposition to the kingdom of Satan, the kingdom of deception and oppression, is inseparable from the proclamation of the kingdom of God. It is this opposition that brought Jesus to the cross; and it is this opposition that gave meaning to his non-violence. 4. The cross is a divine embrace of the deceitful and the unjust. The embrace of the evildoer is exempliﬁ ed in Jesus’ forgiveness of the perpetrator on the cross (Luke 23:34).13

The second point is that this non-violent lifestyle is actualized in the practices of a concrete community, in a social group which by its very existence as an alternative community in the world is a sign of God’s reign, although in very earthen vessels (Friessen and Stassen 1998, 63). The Church is called to be a faithful manifestation of the peaceful kingdom in the world (Hauerwas 1984, 97–100). This task may be

13 On the politics of forgiveness see also Jones 1995 and Aagaard 2005, 181–197. 50 johannes nissen exemplifi ed by Bonhoeffer’s contribution to an ecumenical peace ethics at the conference in Fanø (1934). Peter Lodberg points to the fact that, according to Bonhoeffer, the Church as a communion/fellowship must take the path of non-violence to peace. Through the fellowship, individuals are nurtured and supported in their decision to follow the commandment: You shall not kill. Lodberg also asks for the present relevance: What then does this mean today in a global and national situation, where a huge amount of money and much human effort are invested in developing new security doctrines and strategies in a global war against terrorism? Should there be voices speaking up for peace and not security? Should there be voices speaking of reconciliation and forgiveness? Is it possible to break the spiral of violence and retaliation? (Lodberg 2005, 226).14 The third and fi nal point is that the churches are called to seek the well-being (shalom) of the city. The churches must be agents of peacemaking in the world. However, there are recent examples that the churches have failed this task. Instead of being reconcilers, they have become part of the confl ict by opting for the one side. The role of the churches in the Balkans, Rwanda/Burundi and Northern Ire- land indicates that Christians have often given a religious sanction of nationalism. But there are also examples of churches and Christians who have played an active role in reconciliation. Here, I would highlight the importance of the Commission on Truth and Reconciliation in the social transformation of South Africa. At the heart of the commission’s work was the enabling of the victims of gross violations of human rights during the past three decades to tell their stories and, in doing so, to discover resources that may enable them to forgive their oppressors. By hearing from both sides and considering pleas for amnesty, the commission has performed a kind of national exorcism. “Here a whole nation is being liberated into a

14 Ulrich Duchrow and Gerhard Liedke argue that the life story of Dietrich Bonhoef- fer shows that the peace church and the liberation church approaches are not contradic- tory. Through his encounter with the paciﬁ st Jean Lasserre, he was practically a peace churchman at the time he wrote his book The Cost of Discipleship. His call from Fanø for the holding of a council explicitly provides for the Christian Church as a whole to take the weapons out of the hands of its members. Later, after a long theological struggle, he realized that he had to get involved in the resistance against Hitler, which included a limited use of violence (Duchrow and Liedke 1987, 172). See also note 11. the issue of non-violent resistance 51 space in which questions can be asked in a way that should make for peace” (Mudge 1998, 117–18). Central to the work of the commission is the concept of a forgiveness which is not a condoning or forgetting of the past. It is a biblical understanding of forgiveness as a process which includes both the perpetrator and the victim. In the words of Geiko Müller-Fahrenholz (1997, 4): Forgiveness can occur when the perpetrator asks for it and the victim grants it. This is mutuality basic to an understanding of the biblical concept. Both sides are changed by this encounter. Much more than a word or a gesture, forgiveness is a genuine process of encounter, of healing, of the releasing of new options for the future.

References

Aagaard, Anna Marie. 2005. Ånd har krop. Teologiske essays. København: Anis. Bartsch, H.-W. 1969. “The Foundation and Meaning of Christian Paciﬁ sm”. In New Theology, eds. M.E. Marty and D.G. Peerman, No 6., 185–198. London. Best, Thomas F. and Martin Robra, eds. 1997. Ecclesiology and Ethics: Ecumenical Ethical Engagement. Moral Formation and the Nature of the Church, Geneva: WCC. Cassidy, Richard J. 1978. Jesus, Politics, and Society: A Study of Luke’s Gospel. New York: Orbis Books. The Challenge of Peace: God’s Promise and Our Response. 1983. National Catholic Reporter June 17 (1983), 5–28 (special issue). Also available as book: The Challenge to Peace, Washington D.C.: National Conference of Catholic Bishops/United States Catholic Conference. Childress, James F. 1986. “Resistance”, A New Dictionary of Christian Ethics, ed. By J. Macquerrie and J. Childress, 539–541. London: SCM Press. de Gruchy, John W. 1995. Christianity and Democracy: A Theology for a Just World Order, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Duchrow, Ulrich. 1976. “Theorie und Praxis verschiedener Gestalten einer lutherischen ‘Zweireichelehre’ in Geschichte und Gegenwart”, LWF-Papers. Geneva. ——. 1977. “Typen des Gebrauchs und Misbrauchs einer Lehre von zwei Reichen und Regimenten”. In Zwei Reiche und Regimente: Ideologie oder evangelische Orientierung?, ed. U. Duchrow, 273–304. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. ——. 1995. Alternatives to Global Capitalism: Drawn from Biblical History, Designed for Political Action. Utrecht: International Books and Heidelberg: Kairos Europa. Duchrow, Ulrich and Gerhard Liedke. 1987. Shalom: Biblical Perspectives on Creation, Justice and Peace, Geneva: WCC. Elford, R. John. 2001. “Christianity and war”. In Christian Ethics, ed. R. Bill. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 171–182. Fiorenza, Elisabeth Schüssler. 1993. Revelation: Vision of a Just World. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Friessen, Duane K. and Glen H. Stassen. 1998. “Just Peacemaking”. In Transform- ing Violence: Linking Local and Global Peacemaking, eds. J.S. Herr and R. Herr, 53–67 Scottdale: Herald Press. Furnish, Victor P. 1979. The Moral Teaching of Paul. Nashville: Abingdon Press. 52 johannes nissen

Hauerwas, Stanley. 1984. The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics. London: SCM. Hays, Richard B. 1997. The Moral Vision of the New Testament: A Contemporary Introduction in New Testament Ethics, Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Heiene, Gunnar. 1992. “En analyse av 1 Pet 2,13–17 med henblikk på tekstens aktualitet for politisk etikk”, Tidsskrift for Teologi og Kirke 63 (1992), 17–31. Heiligenthal, Roman. 1983. “Strategien konformer Ethik im Neuen Testament am Beispiel von Röm 13.1–3”, New Testament Studies 29 (1983), 55–61. Jones, L.Gregory. 1995. Embodying Forgiveness: A Theological Analysis. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Jones, Richard G. 1998. “Peace, violence and war”. In Christian Ethics: An Introduction, ed. B. Hoose, 210–222. London: Cassell. The Kairos Theologians. 1986. The Kairos Document: Challenge to the Church = A Theological Comment on the Political Crisis in South Africa, introduced by John W. de Gruchy. Grand Rapids MI: Eerdmans. Lodberg, Peter. 2005. “The Church and Peace: The Inspiration from Dietrich Bonhoef- fer”. In Cracks in the Walls: Essays on Spirituality, Ecumenicity and Ethics, eds. Else.Marie Wiberg Pedersen and Johannes Nissen. (FS A.M. Aagaard), 217–228. Frankfurt: Peter Lang. McDonald, J. Ian H. 1993. Biblical Interpretation and Christian Ethics. Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press. Moulder, James. 1977. “Romans 13 and Conscientious Disobedience”, Journal of Theol- ogy for Southern Africa 21 (1977), 13–23. Mudge, Lewis S. 1998. The Church as Moral Community: Ecclesiology and Ethics in Ecumenical Debate. New York: Continuum and Geneva: WCC. Müller-Fahrenholz, Geiko. 1997. The Art of Forgiveness: Theological Reﬂ ections on Healing and Reconciliation. Geneva: WCC. Nissen, Johannes. 1995. “The Distinctive Character of the New Testament Love Command in Relation to Hellenistic Judaism”. In The New Testament and Hellenistic Judaism, eds. Peder Borgen and Søren Giversen, 123–150. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press 1995. ——. 2000. “Conformity, Nonconformity, and Critical Solidarity: The Church-State Issue and the Use of the Bible”, Mission Studies 16, No. 1–2 (2000), 240–262. ——. 2003. Bibel og etik. Konkrete og principielle problemstillinger. Aarhus: Aarhus Univer- sitetsforlag. ——, ed. 2005a. Cracks in the Walls: Essays on Spirituality, Ecumenicity and Ethics (FS A.M. Aagaard), 217–228. Frankfurt: Peter Lang. ——. 2005b. “Krig, fred og retfærdighed. Om etik og bibelbrug”. In Krig—dens legitimitet i religion og politik, ed. Bo Holm, 17–39. Copenhagen: Anis. Nolan, Albert. 1977. Jesus Before Christianity: The Gospel of Liberation. London: Darton, Longman & Todd. O’Neill, John. 1975. Paul’s Letter to the Romans. London: Penguin Books. Rowland, Christopher and Mark Corner. 1990. Liberating Exegesis: The Challenge of Liberation Theology to Biblical Studies. London: SPCK. Schottroff, Luise. 1984. “Gebt dem Kaiser, was dem Kaiser gehört, und Gott was Gott gehört: Theologische Antwort der urchristlichen Gemeinden auf ihre gesellschaftliche und politische Situation”. In Annahme und Widerstand, ed. Jürgen Moltmann, 15–58. Munich: Kaiser Verlag. Sugirtharajah, R.S. 2002. Postcolonial Criticism and Biblical Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Verhey, Allen. 1984. The Great Reversal: Ethics and the New Testament. Grand Rapids MI: Eerdmans. Volf, Miroslav. 1996. Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation. Nashville: Abingdon Press. the issue of non-violent resistance 53

Wink, Walter. 1998a. “Jesus’ Third Way”. In Transforming Violence: Linking Local and Global Peacemaking, eds. Robert Herr and Judy Zimmermann Herr, 34–47. Scottdale: Herald Press. ——. 1998b. The Powers That Be: Theology for a New Millennium. New York: Doubleday. Winter, Bruce W. 1994. Seek the Welfare of the City: Christians as Benefactors and Citizens. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans and Carlisle, UK: The Paternoster Press 1994.

CHAPTER THREE

FRANZ JÄGERSTÄTTER: BETTER THE HANDS IN CHAINS, THAN THE WILL

Erna Putz

Franz Jägerstätter was born on May 20, 1907 in St. Radegund (Upper Austria). He was executed on August 9, 1943 in Brandenburg-Havel. Of profession he was a farmer and served as a sacristan at the local church. In summer 1940, Franz Jägerstätter was drafted into military service for the ﬁ rst time. He was enlisted on June 17. Just a few days later, he was able to return to his farm due to an intervention by the authorities of his home town. From October 1940 until April 1941, he served in the Wehrmacht, but not in combat duty at the front. He was released again, but decided this time not to comply with further conscription. On March 1, 1943, he declared his refusal. He asked several times to be transferred to the military ambulance service. He did not want to kill other people in order to help Hitler’s Germany gain control of the whole world. His deep rejection of armed military service was rooted in his strong faith; he paid for this with his life. He was beheaded on August 9, 1943, at 4pm/Brandenburg/Havel. He was beatiﬁ ed on October 26th, 2007, in Linz, Austria.

Introduction

In 1985, a former prisoner accompanied a group of young people through the former concentration camp of Mauthausen. He was a warm-hearted, charming person with no thoughts of hatred or revenge. By the end of the tour, at the bottom of the socalled ‘death stairs’, where prisoners were thrown to death, we were all devastated. How was this possible, here, in our native country? This caused us to ask the question: what kind of values do we have, if such a thing as this can happen? We did not ask about God, but we asked about humanity. On the very same day, I was asked to speak about the preliminary results of my investigations into Franz Jägerstätter. Anna Hackl (born Langthaler) talked about her family who rescued and concealed two refugees from the concentration camp. From the example of Franz and Franziska Jägerstätter, and from the example of the Langthaler family, 56 erna putz who also risked their lives, we gained a new perspective. Looking at these people raised our spirits. They gave us back our faith in humanity. All of them received their orientation and strength from their Chris- tian faith. This faith was trustworthy because it guided their conscience and it helped them to put justice and love before fear and propaganda. Scripture reading and prayer must be of value because these people were—in such extreme situations—sustained by it. In some parts of the world and in periods during the last century, Christian faith only meant ‘resistance’. Those who resisted paid the price: ‘martyrdom’—because Christian faith and political action could not be separated. In 1943, a Catholic farmer from Upper Austria, Franz Jägerstätter, refused war service in Hitler’s army. He asked not only his contemporaries about the political responsibility of Christians, but also his Church. In 1980, the Archbishop of Vienna, Christoph Schönborn, called Franz Jägerstätter a martyr. He said that Jägerstätter’s writings from the prison, due to their simple truthfulness, served as a mirror for anyone who questions his Christian existence if things come to a head. Christians have always suffered throughout history because they told the truth. The testimony of the martyrs shows that the homeland of a Christian is heaven. During the beatiﬁ cation process of Franz Jägerstätter, Manfred Scheuer, postulator at diocesan level and current bishop of Innsbruck, presented him as a martyr who was clearly killed because of his faith. Sometimes this position is disputed because Franz Jägerstätter was executed because of his conscientious objection, and not because of an article of faith. Bishop Scheuer rejected these objections because they make an undue distinction between faith and ethics: The martyrs of the 20th century augment our view and, by that, they make it possible to interpret the signs of the time; in times of hatred, barbarity and contempt for human beings, they portray the truth of God and the dignity of man. With their diagnosis of society and their ideologies they were not fanatics or deluded, but were much clearer than many of their contemporaries. Their prophetic testimony of the Christian truth was based on a radical and far-sighted analysis, which unmasked political systems that despised man and God, racism, the ideology of war and of the deiﬁ cation of the state and their declared will to destroy Christianity and the Church. To them, trust in God was combined with a radical critique of ideologies and idols. They realised the power of resistance which is in faith (Scheuer 2002). better the hands in chains, than the will 57

In 1997, the diocese of Linz opened proceedings for the beatifi cation of Franz Jägerstätter and transferred them to the Vatican in 2001. The Bishop of Linz and a number of Jägerstätter’s friends expect that the death of Franz Jägerstätter will be recognised as martyrdom for the sake of faith in the foreseeable future. The protestant student chaplain, Paul Gerhard Schoenborn, emphasises in his book “Alphabete der Nachfolge” the political dimension of the martyrdom of those who follow Christ (Schoenborn 1996). The testimony of Franz Jägerstätter does not only move people in the churches or in his immediate home country. In 2003, the play “Eye witness” by Joshua Sobol, which interprets the case of Jägerstätter, was played for the fi rst time in Tel Aviv—and afterwards it was shown more than 150 times. This play by the Israeli author had its origins in a concrete political context: the refusal of Israeli pilots to fl y over Palestine territory and bomb it. ‘Eye witness’ is a parable about possessing the courage to follow one’s own conscience, and about the loneliness which comes with such radical behaviour. The play was not only vividly discussed in Israel but it also started a “new chapter” in the relations between Germans, Austrians and Israelis. This was the fi rst time in the country of Holocaust victims that the victims discussed the “psychology” of the perpetrators, and it was the fi rst time it became known that there were also conscientous objections within the German Army. In the main fi gure Fanz Jägerstät- ter, some Israelis see an allegory which shows their own role as citizens of an occupying power.

Childhood and youth

On May 20, 1907, the unmarried farm maid Rosalia Huber bore a son, Franz, in St. Radegund, Upper Austria. She and the child’s father, a farm labourer, loved each other but were too poor to get married. Rosalia had to leave the baby in the care of her mother, Elisabeth. Elisabeth Huber was, although poor, an affectionate woman with wide interests. For seven years, Franz Huber attended primary school in St. Radegund, where one teacher had to teach about 70 children, ranging in ages from 6 to 13 years together, in one room. Franz was at a disadvantage because, as a poor child, he could not bring butter or meat to the teacher. This was to become more painful in memory later on than this own hunger. 58 erna putz

In 1917, Franz’s situation improved. His mother married the farmer, Heinrich Jägerstätter, who adopted his wife’s child upon marriage, so from February 1917 he became Franz Jägerstätter. Now, on the farm, there was enough to eat. Franz also had access to books for the fi rst time. Little Franz became an enthusiastic reader. Reading, he later told his godson, was very important: “People who don’t read will never be able to stand on their own feet and will all too easily become a football for other people’s opinions.” For the fi rst time, Franz now spent time with his mother on a regular basis. However, they never developed a particularly close relationship. From 1927 to 1930, Franz worked in the iron ore mines in the Steier- mark area. With his earnings he bought a motorcycle, the fi rst in the village. Later, he was glad that it contributed to some happy times for Franziska, too. In 1933, he had a short affair from which resulted in the birth of a baby girl, Hildegard. This was before Franz met Franziska in 1935. Before their marriage, Franz and Franziska offered to raise the little girl. Franz’s mother, however, doubted that he was the father.

A happy family

Franz’ character was formed by the infl uence of his loving and devoted grandmother, by living in poverty and by the infl uence of religious books. A decisive factor in his human and religious development was his marriage to Franziska, born Schwaninger. In her religious family and in her parish youth group, Franziska had experienced faith as something very joyful. She was able to share this experience with Franz. They prayed together and read the Bible. They were not only a devout but also a very happy couple. They had to work very hard on the small farm and had few opportunities for privacy, but still they could express their passionate love for each other. Franz liked to hide little presents that he brought his wife; Franziska hid the cookies she had baked especially for her husband. Franz was the fi rst father in the village who would take his daughters out in the baby carriage. Read- ing his letters, one realises what a close relationship he had with his children, even though they were still very small. In the village, people noticed that Franz had become more devout; after his marriage he often attended Communion. Village opinion later blamed Franziska better the hands in chains, than the will 59 for the deadly consequences of Franz’s strong faith. She herself says, “We helped each other to grow in faith.” Franz sometimes said to his wife, “I would never have imagined that marriage could be so beautiful.”

Unusual situation in St. Radegund

The tiny village of St. Radegrund, numbering 500 inhabitants, was situated by the river Salzach in the Western part of upper Austria. Until the 1930s, it was known for its Passion Plays. When Hitler came to power in 1933, the German border with Austria was closed and, subsequently, the Passion Plays came to an end. The end of the Passion Plays, due to the German closure of the border, may provide part of the explanation as to why there were no Nazis in St. Radegrund when German troops marched into Austria in 1938. This may also explain why none of the inhabitants wanted to become mayor of the village under the new Nazi regime after 1938. Franz Jägerstätter was among those who were asked in March 1938 to accept this offi ce, but it was quite clear to him that any co-operation with the new rulers would be incompatible with his religious faith. Only when threatened by the appointment of an externally appointed commissioner, another farmer expressed willingness to be mayor. The midwife in St. Radegund was a Gestapo spy. She denounced ten opponents. The postwoman did not deliver the letter in the post offi ce but brought it to the mayor. He made sure that it disappeared. Among the opponents named was Jägerstätter. The Gestapo reaction to denuncations included monitor- ing the suspect’s mail. In Jägerstätters case, this would soon have been effective, as his opposition was all too clear from his correspondence. In any other municipality, he would have been prosecuted for ‘sedi- tion’. In 1940, the parish community of St. Radegund stood united behind the parish priest, Fr. Karobath, when he was imprisoned for a “seditious” sermon. In the Diocese of Linz, there was very strong Gestapo pressure on the clergy, with an exceptionally high number of murders and impris- onments. In the Deanery of Ostermiething, to which St. Radegund belongs, 8 out of 12 priests were imprisoned, several of them friends of Jägerstätter. These experiences strengthened Jägerstätter in his rejection of National Socialism. Should he fi ght and kill so that it could conquer 60 erna putz the whole world? In addition, in 1941 he learned in the fate of the mentally ill in Ybbs.

Resistance towards the Nazis from the beginning

In January 1938, two months before Hitler’s forces marched into Aus- tria, Franz had a dream: Suddenly I saw a beautiful train, which was going around a mountain. Grown-ups and children were streaming towards it and could hardly be held back. I would rather not say how few adults did not get on the train. Then suddenly a voice said to me: ‘This train is going to Hell’ . . . In the beginning, this train was rather puzzling to me, but the longer this went on, the more the veil was lifted from this running train. And now I realize that it embodies National Socialism, as it descends upon us with all its many organizations (Putz 1987, 124–25). From the beginning, Franz Jägerstätter refused all cooperation with the Nazi party. He gave no donations to it, and also refused to accept payments such as those for raising children or for hail storm damage.

He was not willing to fight in Hitler’s war

In 1940, the fi rst call to military service came. Franz took the oath on June 17 in Braunau, but because the Mayor of St. Radegund used his infl uence, Franz could return to his family for a few days. Then, from October 1940 until April 1941, he was in the army for training—with no combat duty. When he returned to St. Radegund in April 1941, again thanks to the mayor, Jägerstätter said that he would not accept a renewed call to fi ght and kill so that Hitler could rule the whole world. He knew to do so would be a personal crime and a sin. The war against Russia did nothing to ease his conscience. He wrote: What are we fi ghting in that land, Bolshevism or the Russian people? When our Catholic missionaries went to a new land to convert the people to Christianity, did they use machine guns and bombs to convert them and make them better? . . . When one goes back in history a little bit, one keeps noticing almost the same thing every time: when a ruler made war on another country, he did not invade that country to improve it or to bring gifts, but to take something for himself. When we fi ght the Russian people, we will no doubt bring back things we can use here. If we were only there to fi ght Bolshevism, other things such as iron ore, oil or wheat would not even be a consideration (Putz 1987, 137–38). better the hands in chains, than the will 61

A silent church

Jägerstätter discussed his plans with friends in the priesthood. They tried to talk him out of it and save his life. Yet they could not answer his biblical arguments. The local priest, Fr. Fürthauer, even told him in confession that he would be committing suicide. Jägerstätter was quite despondent after that. Noticing his depression, Franziska asked for a reason for this, and was able to help him fi nd inner peace once more. Franz Jägerstätter even asked the Bishop of Linz for advice, but he was afraid Jägerstätter might be a spy. Bishop Fliesser knew that the Gestapo was very watchful for links between faith and attitude towards war service. In 1940, during simultaneous house searches at every presbytery in his diocese, they had been looking specifi cally for soldiers’ letters. Franz Jägerstätter had prepared questions for his meeting with the bishop, including: What Catholic can dare to say that these raids which Germany has carried out in several countries, and is still carrying out, constitute a just and holy war? (Putz 1987, 177). Who dares to assert that among the German people in this war only one person bears the responsibility, and why then did so many millions of Germans have to give their ‘Yes’ or ‘No’? Can one be reproached today for lacking patriotism? Do we still even have a mother country in this world? For if a country is supposed to be my mother country, it may not just impose duties—one must also have rights—and do we have rights here today? If someone becomes ineducable and might be a burden on the state, what happens to them? Would such a mother country be worth defending at all? One cannot talk about defending Germany anyway, because Germany was never attacked by anyone. Once, I believe, we would have had the right to defend ourselves, and that was four years ago when we were still Austrians. (Putz 1987, 178). Who can be a soldier for Christ and a soldier for National Socialism at the same time, to fi ght for Christ’s victory and that of His Church, and at the same time to fi ght for the victory of National Socialism? (Putz 1987, 178). In 1946, after the war, Bishop Fließer wrote about his conversation with Franz Jägerstätter: In vain I tried to explain to him the general moral principles regarding the degree of responsibility of a private citizen for the actions of authority and tried to remind him of his much higher responsibility for his own private situation, especially for his family. 62 erna putz

After the war, the bishop suppressed publication of the affair in his diocese. Franz had sensed the bishop’s fear, and his objections to war service were not weakened. Regarding his responsibility as the father of a family he notes: Again and again, people try to trouble my conscience over my wife and children. Is an action any better because one is married and has children? Is it better or worse because thousands of other Catholics are doing the same? (Putz 1987, 74). Franz Jägerstätter’s more sensitive conscience was not a burden to him, but rather a grace: If God had not given me the strength and the grace to die for my faith when it is demanded of me, then I would probably do the same as the majority does. God can give everyone as much grace as He wants to. (Putz 1987, 75). Franz Jägerstätter knew that priests would be arrested if they said something other than what the government allowed. Nevertheless, he asked the question: What would be the difference if no church would be open any longer, as long as the church remains silent anyway in the face of all that is going on?” (Putz 1987, 70).

Support from his wife, Franziska Jägerstätter

It was immediately clear to everybody that this refusal to go to war would cost Jägerstätter his life. His mother tried to infl uence him through relatives to get him to change his mind. His wife, Franziska Jägerstät- ter, also tried to dissuade him initially, but when everybody else spoke out against him, when they argued so strongly and he stood alone, she stood by him. She explained her position as follows: “If I hadn’t stood with him, he would have had nobody at all.” In the referendum on the “Anschluss”, held on April 10, 1938, Franz Jägerstätter voted “No”; this resulted in a crisis in the married couple’s relationship. Jägerstätter said that he did not want to vote, for there was hardly a choice if the Germans were already there with their tanks. Franziska Jägerstätter was already aware of the terror as people from every village were taken off to concentration camps. She threatened her husband that she would no longer love him if he did not go to better the hands in chains, than the will 63 the referendum. Franz Jägerstätter was alarmed, and so subsequently was his wife. She learned from this argument never to put pressure on her husband in matters of conscience. In her letters to him during his imprisonment, she never tried to infl uence him but merely said that she had hoped to the end that he could have had decided otherwise. One of the bitterest moments in the life of Franz and Franziska Jägerstätter was their parting at the nearby train station in Tittmoning on February 27, 1943. Jägerstätter could not let go of his wife, so the train tore them apart as it started. Franz took detours on the way to the city of Enns and delayed reporting to the recruiting station there. Letters between Franz and Franziska Jägerstätter from this period show their deep relationship. While still in freedom, expecting to be killed as soon as he expressed his refusal, Jägerstätter wrote to his wife on the fi rst of March 1943: . . . My dearest wife, I want to thank you again most heartily for all your love, faithfulness and sacrifi ces that you have made for me and for the whole family, and for all the suffering you will still face because of me. The hardest thing will be that you must not become angry with those who will perhaps now hurt you, because real love demands it. Always strive towards perfection and it will become easier for you. At least you know whom to go to in your pain. . . . Christ too at the Mount of Olives prayed to his heavenly Father that the cup of suffering might pass him by, but we must never forget in such prayers to say: Lord, not my will be done, but Thine. Keep helping the poor as long as you can, and be a father to the children as well, and don’t be angry with my mother, even though she does not understand us (Putz 1987, 25). This last letter written in freedom shows that, in this case, two people followed a path together that was not understood by anyone else. The village community and her mother-in-law never forgave Franziska Jägerstätter for not trying hard enough to dissuade her husband from his refusal. Franz Jägerstätter was already aware of the hostility to which his wife would be exposed. The sentence, “…don’t be angry with my mother, even though she does not understand us”, shows how strongly Franziska Jägerstätter supported her husband in his decision. On March 3, Franz Jägerstätter wrote from the military prison in Linz, the provincial capital. He reassured the family about the conditions of his imprisonment. Evidently, he had not counted on imprisonment, much less on a trial, because he had not brought with him any toilet articles and he asked his wife to send him these things. On March 5, Jägerstätter was able to have an uncensored letter smuggled out of prison: 64 erna putz

. . . In Enns they used all kinds of tricks to persuade me and still make a soldier out of me. It was not so easy to keep with my decision. It may still become very difﬁ cult, but I trust in God that if a different path would be better He will show it to me. Of course they asked me what my priest had said regarding my decision. If I had not refused to tell them what he had said, he would hardly remain free for long (Putz 1987, 28). According to documents from the Reich’s War Tribunal, the inter- rogators were instructed, in cases of men refusing military service for reason of conscience, to put pressure on them and to try to persuade them to change their minds. For Franziska Jägerstätter, there was a frightening week during which she heard nothing at all from her husband, not even whether he was still alive. On March 7 she wrote: My beloved husband, Yesterday I received your letter, for which I thank you very much. When I wrote you letters two years ago, it was with a heavy heart too because you could not be with us, but at least I then had the joy of anticipating your next furlough. However writing to you in your present situation makes me terribly sad. Of course we know that our dear Lord didn’t spare even his heavenly mother from suffering, and she was pure and free from sin, so we sinful human beings must not complain when God sends us ever increasing suffering. God’s will be done, no matter how it hurts, His will be done, even though I don’t understand it. I still had some small hope that on your way there you might still change your mind, because I feel so sorry for you and I cannot help you at all. I will pray to the mother of God most fervently, that she will bring you home to us if it is God’s will. The three girls are of course always asking about you, especially little Loisi, who asks quite harmlessly: ‘When is Daddy coming home?’ She just takes it for granted that you will come home and bring her some sausage. The bigger ones understand better that you can’t come back so quickly after reporting. Maria likes to pray for her Daddy and Rosi already makes small sacriﬁ ces so the Christ Child will bring her Daddy back . . . Rosi is quite concerned about you already. Everything in the letters you have written so far, she wants to know. We have not yet told the children that you are locked up. The people in St. Radegund also still think you just went to report. I only told the priests. Karobath and Krenn wrote to me. I told them where you are. They are quite concerned about you, that you have taken such a heavy load upon yourself. I sent a letter to Enns on Sunday—perhaps it will still be sent on to you when they have your address. How is it with letters? Can one write to you any time? Are the letters being opened? Today, you probably thought wistfully about it being Sacred Heart Sunday, it was probably very festive in all the churches; our service started at seven o’clock this morning and benediction is at seven o’clock in the evening. They are practising sharpshooting here and better the hands in chains, than the will 65

nobody is allowed out of their houses after nine in the morning. How are you doing spiritually? Are you still being consoled . . . I’m closing with much love from your loving wife, Fani! In these letters, we learn a lot about this family. Franziska Jägerstätter’s husband was torn from her, and there was no hope of being reunited, but she was not paralysed in her pain. The sufferings of Jesus and his mother were her support. She trusted in God, however painful and hard to understand His will might be for her. One last glimmer of hope remained. Franz Jägerstätter might still change his mind on his way to the recruiting station. One notices that Franziska Jägerstätter never puts any pressure on her husband neither in the above letter nor in any of the following. Franziska Jägerstätter had told their friends in the priesthood, Franz Krenn and Josef Karobath, about her husband’s situation. Because of fear of the Gestapo, which had already expelled him from his parish and had forbidden him to preach, Fr. Krenn did not dare to write to Jägerstätter in prison. In 1940, Karobath, parish priest of St. Rade- gund, was imprisoned by the Gestapo for seven weeks because of an anti-Nazi sermon. Afterwards, he was not allowed to enter the district of Braunau. Nevertheless he did risk writing to Jägerstätter in the Tegel prison of Berlin. Franziska Jägerstätter’s greatest worry, however, was the spiritual state of her lonely husband. “Are you still being consoled?” she asked, already sensing her beloved husband’s approaching agony. Then there came a ray of hope for them both: Franz Jägerstätter might be allowed to serve in the Medical Corps and thus save his life. On March 11, 1943, he wrote to his wife: . . . I want to let you know that I am ready to serve in the Medical Corps because one can actually do a lot of good in it and practice Christian love of neighbour in a practical sense, and my conscience no longer struggles against that. Franziska Jägerstätter wrote back: I wholeheartedly wish you luck in this decision, you will be able to do good and I am already looking forward to when we see each other again, if it be God’s will. Franz and Franziska Jägerstätter were two human beings who did not live or die for abstract principles. They tried to live according to their Christian conscience in a new and very difﬁ cult situation. 66 erna putz

Franz Jägerstätters’s request to serve in the Medical Corps was denied however, ﬁ rst by the Military Tribunal in Linz and later in Berlin. After 1945, the documents of the “Reichskriegsgericht”, The Reich’s Military Tribunal, were kept in the Military Archive in Prague and since 1990 they have been open for the public. This archive not only contains the court documents of Franz Jägerstätter but also hundreds of other cases of refusal due to religious reasons. The majority were Jehovah’s Witnesses, but a few Adventists and eight Catholics were among them. About 45 percent of them were ready, under pressure, to revoke their refusals. They were then sentenced to prison terms of one to three years. However, these sentences were suspended until after the war, so they had to join a punishment corps at the front until then. If a soldier then refused to bear a weapon, he was at once re- tried and sentenced to death. For example, on May 18, 1943, Roman Naleppa ( Jehovah’s Witness) was sentenced to one year and sent into a punishment corps at the front. On June 11, he refused to take up a weapon because “he could not shoot human beings”, and on July 21, 1943, he was sentenced to death. The report on Naleppa shows that because of the danger of others following these examples, the death penalty was used as a deterrent. When studying these documents of the War Tribunal, it becomes evident that it was the combination of military service with religious faith that gave the Nazis the most concern. The idea that one must refuse military service because of one’s religious beliefs should not be allowed to spread, and had to be “eradicated, and those who espoused it exterminated”. During his main trial on July 6, 1943 in Berlin, Franz asked once more to be allowed to serve in the Medical Corps. This is on the record but is not used as a reason for a milder punishment.

The great crisis in prison

As with other prisoners in comparable situations, the ﬁ rst few weeks of his imprisonment were the most difﬁ cult for Jägerstätter. A letter dated April 9, 1943, shows that Jägerstätter went through a huge crisis. Seven years had passed since their wedding: When I look back on all the happiness and the graces that have come to us in these seven years, some of them close to a miracle, somebody told me that there is no God or that God does not love us. I do not know any more what is happening to me (Putz 1987, 37). better the hands in chains, than the will 67

The quote from this letter shows that Franz Jägerstätter’s faith in God had been shaken—after all it was that very faith that now endangered his life. However, the experience of the happiness and love that he had had in his marriage to his wife Franziska held him in his faith. Thoughts of ending this painful waiting for death through suicide were also no stranger to Franz Jägerstätter at this difﬁ cult time. Holy Week and Easter however were a source of strength: . . . Especially this week has to give us courage and strength, it makes this fate easier to bear. What is our little suffering compared with what Christ endured that week? Whoever refuses to suffer with Christ won’t rise with Him (Putz 1987, 40). On Easter Sunday, Jägerstätter wrote: Christ is risen, Halleluja! The Church rejoices today. Even though we have to go through difﬁ cult times now, we must be and can be joyful with the church, for what is more joyful than the fact that Christ rose victoriously over death and hell, what can be more consoling for us Christians than to know that we no longer have to fear death (Putz 1987, 42). At the beginning of May, Jägerstätter was moved from Linz to the Tegel Prison in Berlin. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was imprisoned there at the same time, describes the degrading conditions there. Unlike at Linz, Jägerstätter now had a cell to himself. The feasts of the church year, his Third Order of St. Francis prayer book and the Bible gave him strength. From the comments inspired by the Bible that he wrote at that time, we can see that he increasingly found inner peace. One of his last notes says: I would not want to exchange my cell, which is not even clean, for the greatest palace, if it meant I would have to give up even a small part of my faith. (Putz 1987, 65) Fr. Kreutzberg, the prison chaplain, supported Franz in his refusal. The priest told him of the case of the Austrian Order Priest, Franz Reinisch, who, a year earlier, had also refused to serve in the German army for the same reason. “If someone else, a priest, did the same thing, then I am allowed to do it too,” Jägerstätter said to Kreutzberg. Fr. Kreutzberg later told Franziska Jägerstätter that he had never seen a happier human being in prison than Franz Jägerstätter after he had told him about Reinisch. 68 erna putz

Sentenced to death

The trial of Franz Jägerstätter took place at the Reichskriegsgericht, the national court martial, on July 6, 1943. From the sentence: The Accused is sentenced to death for undermining the military forces and is deprived of all military worthiness and civil rights. Grounds: In February 1943, the accused was again called in, by written command, for active service with motorised replacement unit 17 in Enns. At fi rst, he ignored the call as an opponent to the National Socialism and who therefore does not wish to do military service. Upon the urging of family members and the persuasion of his local pastor, he fi nally reported on March 1, 1943 to the permanent company at motorised replacement unit 17 in Enns, but immediately declared his refusal to bear arms in military service because of his religious convictions. Under interrogation by the court offi cer, he maintained that position despite advice and warnings as to the consequences of such a refusal. He declared it would be against his religious conscience if he were to fi ght for the National Socialist state. During questioning by the court offi cer, despite detailed instruction and advice as to the consequences of his conduct, he maintained his negative attitude. He explained that if he fought for the National Socialist state, he would be acting against his religious conscience. He also assumed this negative attitude during questioning by the court investigation offi cer of Division 487 in Linz, and by the representative of the national court martial. However, he declared himself willing to serve as a medical orderly as an act of Christian charity. At the main trial, he repeated his statements and added that as a faithful Catholic he could not perform military service; he could not simultaneously be a National Socialist and a Catholic: that was impossible. If he had obeyed the earlier call papers, he had done so because, at that time, he had regarded it sinful not to obey the commands of the state; now God had made him think that it was not a sin to reject armed service; there were cases in which one should obey God more than man; because of the command ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself ’ he could not fi ght with weapons. He was however prepared to serve as a medical orderly. . . . The accused had already been a soldier for six months, had taken the oath of loyalty to the Führer and Supreme Commander of the Army, and during his period of service was amply informed about the duties of a German soldier. Nevertheless despite being told about the consequences of his conduct, he stubbornly refused for personal reasons to fulfi l his patriotic duty in Germany’s hard struggle for survival. Accordingly, the death sentence is pronounced. The court did not respond to Jägerstätter’s request to be allowed to do medical service. To the end he would have had the opportunity, like other objectors, to withdraw his objection unconditionally, and would better the hands in chains, than the will 69 then have been assigned immediately to a probation unit (punishment company).1 From the moment of receiving the sentence, Franz Jägerstätter’s hands were placed in shackles to prevent any possible suicide. The long, uncertain weeks waiting for death were part of the punishment. Jägerstätter continued his notes in very tiny, but clear writing: “It is better the hands in chains rather than the spirit.” (Putz 1987, 74). Early on August 9, 1943, Franz Jägerstätter was taken from Berlin to Brandenburg/Havel. At midday, he was told that his death sentence had been confi rmed and that it would be carried out at 4 pm. Fr. Jochmann from Brandenburg spent considerable time with him and was very impressed by the calmness and composure of the condemned man. On the evening of that day, he told Austrian nuns about the fate of Franz Jägerstätter and that he was the only saint he had met in his life. On August 9, 1943, at 4 pm, Franz Jägerstätter was beheaded, the fi rst of 16 victims. Fr. Jochmann learned from the civilian crematorium and cemetery superintendent of the spot where Jägerstätter’s urn was buried. The nuns planted fl owers there, and on their fi rst trip to their mother house in Vöcklabruck after the war, they brought the urn containing Franz Jägerstätter’s ashes to his homeland. On August 9, 1946, it was buried by the church wall in St. Radegund.

To cast off responsibility —the real guilt

Franz Jägerstätter appreciated the individual conscience and the responsibility of the individual. One cannot hand over his responsibility to authorities or to the state. Referring to traditional prayers for the gifts of the Holy Spirit, he criticised the irrationality of blind obedience: We could cross out the gifts of wisdom and understanding from the seven petitions for gifts of the Holy Spirit. For if all we need is to blindly obey the Führer, why do we need much wisdom and understanding? (Putz 1987, 161). ‘Authority’ and ‘obedience’ were values upon which Franz Jägerstät- ter reﬂ ected repeatedly. There was not the slightest hint of anarchism

1 On May 7, 1997, the Landgericht Berlin annulled the sentence against Franz Jägerstätter because of its “political motivation of deterrence”. 70 erna putz within him. He made every effort to avoid falling into the mistakes of the adversary, of malice and hatred. He demanded that one should encourage the authority to act justly. He demanded civil courage towards authorities: We should not forget, that we have to obey civil authorities even when it is sometimes difﬁ cult to render loyal obedience to princes and superiors, when often we think that we have been dealt with unjustly, which is frequently the case. But even then we should not merely gripe and grumble because that does not do any good for us. That won’t make it any better or bring us a bed of roses. An appropriate word, spoken at the right time or a sincere request can be more helpful than hours of grumbling and muttering behind the back of the superiors (Putz 1987, 92). The limits of obedience were reached for Jägerstätter with the bellicose campaigns of Germany and when Hitler demanded a pseudo—religious confession of faith from everyone: Christ demands also public confession of faith, just as the Führer Adolf Hitler demands from his compatriots, but can one serve two masters at the same time? The commandment of God teaches us certainly to render obedience to our civil authorities, even when they are not Christian, but only as far as they do not order something that is evil. Then we must obey God rather than men. The German war was so clearly evil for Jägerstätter, and yet those guilty of the entire misery were not enemies to be destroyed. One should rather “make the responsibility lighter” for them: Today you place frequently that you can and may with a clear conscience put the responsibility on someone else. Therefore it is shifted around from one to another. No one takes responsibility for anything. According to this all too human way of seeing the whole horrid abomination of which we have today enough and more than enough—will it be in the end that only one or maybe two have to atone for it? Does it still bear witness to Christian love of the neighbour if I commit an act, which I truly regard as evil and very unjust, and yet I continue to commit the act because otherwise I could suffer either physical or economic harm? What if the responsibility for this, according to some, belongs to someone else? It is indeed true that many leading ﬁ gures, both spiritual and civil, have to take on a very great responsibility. Instead of making the responsibility easier for them, each person would like to load them with his own part of the guilt, which he could bear himself, and thus they are dragged down even deeper in the end! . . . Isn’t God more likely to judge each person according to their own individual understanding rather than according to their social position in life? . . . In my opinion it is more likely that a person has greater guilt when he has full knowledge that the actions in which better the hands in chains, than the will 71

he is involved are evil rather than good, but he collaborates anyway only so that his pampered body will not be exposed to danger or deprivation. Naturally the words sound very sweet to our ears that say someone else is responsible (Putz 1987, 144ff ). In the words “to cast off responsibility and “to act despite knowing better”, Jägerstätter sees “the sweet sounding words” and the individual guilt. It was tempting for him and even Bishop Fließer from Linz tried to infl uence Franz Jägerstätter in similar manner when he told him about his much greater responsibility for his family than for the “actions of the authorities”. Franz Jägerstätter had to consider each day the real possibility of being unwillingly separated from his family and not being able to care for them. It was in this context that both the duty towards his family and the duty of saving his own life became more relative, by considering also that the life of a soldier in the Stalingrad winter was not valued particularly highly. If you have to risk your life, then at least let it be for something you are convinced of: I don’t believe that the Lord God makes it so diffi cult for us to put our lives on the line for our faith at this time, when we take into account that in these diffi cult times of war, thousands of young people are urged to offer their lives under the most terrible conditions. This is not for the sake of their faith, but so that others at home can live a bit longer on stolen goods. In addition, thousands of children’s souls are killed because with each new victory gained by Germany, the consciousness of guilt for us Germans becomes greater and greater. Why then should it be more diffi cult to give one’s life for a King whose fi nal victory is certain and whose kingdom for which we are fi ghting will last forever?

Martyrs like Jägerstätter should never have the feeling that they are alone

Twenty years after his death, Jägerstätter’s ‘case’ inﬂ uenced the declarations of the Vatican Council on one of its most debated issues, i.e. the question of peace and conscientious objection to military service. Archbishop Thomas D. Roberts SJ was at the head of the diocese of Bombay, India, from 1939 to 1958. There can be no doubt that his experience there during the Indian struggle for independence determined his initiatives during the Council regarding war and the non- violent liberation movement. It is thanks to his courageous testimony that the Council worked out a position on conscientious objection to 72 erna putz military service and included it in the document on the ‘Church and the World’. While most Council speakers kept their contributions on the theme of peace stuck in the dilemma of whether one was permitted to meet the injustice of an aggression with the injustice of an atomic counter attack, Roberts brought a new dimension into that debate: the conscience of the individual. The Archbishop demanded that the Christian not only resist the injustice, but do so using methods and procedures for which he can take responsibility as a disciple of Christ. No person with a committed conscience can allow himself to be reduced to becoming a mere cog in the wheel of the technological process.

References

Andics, Helmut, and Axel Corti. 1996. Der Fall Jägerstätter: Kriegsdienstverweigerung im Dritten Reich. Eine Gemeinschaftsproduktion von ORF und ZDF. Begleitheft zu Videokassette. Berlin: Landesbildstelle Berlin. Zentrum für audiovisuelle Medien. Benesch, Kurt. 1993. Die Suche nach Jägerstätter: Ein biographischer Roman. Graz–Wien– Köln. Berger, Johann. 1989. Franz Jägerstätter: Versuch einer Annäherung an sein theologisches und philosophisch-politisches Denken. Aspekte-Beiträge-Berichte. Wien: Institut für Militärische Sicherheitspolitik an der Landesverteidigungsakademie Wien. Bergmann, Georg. 1988. Franz Jägerstätter: Ein Leben vom Gewissen entschieden. 2nd ed. 1988, 1st ed. 1980. Stein am Rhein. Diözese Linz. 2000. Franz Jägerstätter: Gedenken und Gebet. Linz: Novene. Pax Christi Oberösterreich, pub. 2000. Franz Jägerstätter: Zur Erinnerung seines Zeugnisses. Eine Handreichung. (Schriftenreihe der Abteilung Gerechtigkeit–Friede–Schöpfung im Pastoralamt der Diözese Linz, Band 1). 2nd. ed. 2000, 1st ed. 1999. Linz. Putz, Erna. 1987. Gefängnisbriefe und Aufzeichnungen: Franz Jägerstätter verweigert 1943 den Wehrdienst. (In italienischer Sprache bei editrice Berti, Piacenza, 2005). Linz. ——. 1997. Franz Jägerstätter: . . . besser die Hände als der Wille gefesselt. . . . 3rd ed. 1997, 2nd ed. Linz 1987; 1st ed. 1985. (In italienischer Sprache bei editrice Berti, Piacenza, 2000). Grünbach bei Freistadt. ——. 2007. Franz Jägerstätter: Martyr. A shining Example in Dark Times. Linz. ——. 2007. Franz Jägerstätter. Der gesamte Briefwechsel mit Franziska. Aufzeichnungen 1941–1943. Wien–Graz–Klagenfurt. Putz, Erna, and Manfred Scheuer. 2003. Wir haben einander gestärkt: Briefe an Franziska Jägerstätter zum 90. Geburtstag. Linz. Riedl, Alfons, and Josef Schwabeneder. 1997. Franz Jägerstätter: Christlicher Glaube und politisches Gewissen. Thaur. Scheuer, Manfred. 2002. Ge—Denken: Mauthausen/Gusen-Hartheim-St. Radegund. Linz. ——. 2007. Selig die keine Gewalt anwenden: Das Zeugnis des Franz Jägerstätter. Innsbruck– Wien. Schoenborn, Paul Gerhard. 1996. Alphabete der Nachfolge: Märtyrer des politischen Christus. Wuppertal: Hammer. Steensen–Leth, Bodil. 1998. Ikke som en Spottefugl: Roman om en idealist under 2. Verdenskrig. Aschehoug. better the hands in chains, than the will 73

Winklbauer, Martin. 1991. Das Vermächtnis: Ein authentisches Stück nach dem Leben des Franz Jägerstätter. Grafenau. Zahn, Gordon C. 1986. In Solitary Witness: The life and death of Franz Jägerstätter. 3rd ed. Illinois 1986, 2nd ed. 1979, 1st ed. 1964. (Deutsch: Er folgte seinem Gewissen: Das einsame Zeugnis des Franz Jägerstätter). Graz.

Exhibitions

Licht in der Finsternis. Zyklus 12 Federzeichnungen von Ernst Degasperi (Ausstellungs- katalag 1992), Schlickplatz 4/1/5, A—1090 Wien. Fotos und Texte zur Lebensgeschichte Franz und Franziska Jägerstätters. Friedensbi- bliothek Berlin, Jochen Schmidt, Tel. (0049130) 50 99 691/[email protected].

Broadcasts

„Besser die Hände gefesselt als der Wille“. Das Vermächtnis des Kriegsdienstverwei- gerers Franz Jägerstätter. Ein Feature von Klaus Ihlau, Radio Brandenburg 1995, Preis der Internationalen Hörspieltagung in Rust 1995, UNDA—Preis 1996; Klaus Ihlau. Journalist, Tel. und Fax. (0049/30) 424 57 36.

Films

Der Fall Jägerstätter. Dokumentation. 90 Minuten. Regie Axel Corti (ORF 26. 10. 1971) Besser die Hände gefesselt als der Wille. 45 Minuten. Regie Andreas Gruber (ORF 1988) Franz Jägerstätter: Un contadino contro Hitler. 27 Minuten, in italienischer Sprache von Fulvio De Martin Pinter, erhältlich bei Caritas diocesana, via Endrici 27, I—38100 Trento. APPENDIX 1: LEITMOTIFS

In Franz Jägerstätter’s life are two moments of conversion: a) During the very happy marriage with his wife Franziska, his faith was deep- ened by her example. b) During his training in the German army, he learned more about the evil system and decided to refuse any further conscription. He did not want martyrdom for himself, but he felt strengthened by the examples of the early Christians under Roman persecution. For Jägerstätter it was obvious that, by being a soldier, he would support the Nazi system. Franz Jägerstätter appreciated the individual conscience and the responsibility of the individual. One cannot hand over his responsibility to authorities or to the state. He made every effort to avoid falling into the mistakes of the adversary, of malice and hatred. Jägerstätter demanded that one should encourage the authority to act justly, he demanded civil courage towards authorities. The German war was so clearly evil for Jägerstätter, and yet those guilty of the whole misery were not enemies to be destroyed. One should rather ease their job by taking responsibilities oneself. ‘Authority’ and ‘obedience’ were values on which Franz Jägerstät- ter continuously reﬂ ected. Franz Jägerstätter knew that he could not change history, but he wanted to be a symbol that not all cooperated with the Nazis. APPENDIX 2: RECEPTION OF THE LIFE OF FRANZ JÄGERSTÄTTER BY FORMER GERMAN SOLDIERS

Between 1985 and 2004, the annual Jägerstätter anniversary in Oster- miething and St. Radegund was a platform for former German soldiers to reﬂ ect on their experiences during their service in Hitler’s army.

Demand for nonviolent solutions of conflicts

Heiner Heimkes, from Munich, August 9, 1990 in St. Radegund: My name is Heinrich Heimkes. I belong to the group of Munich developed from the ‘Catholic Young Men (Kath. Junge Mannschaft)’. This group was founded by veterans who due to their age didn’t ﬁ t any longer into the ‘Catholic Youth (Kath. Jugend)’. We had come home from war with the catchword ‘No war any more, no army any more!’ It would have been better if we had examined our conscience as thorougly at the moment of our recruitment as Franz Jägerstätter did. We all had no clear conscience, we had all killed in accordance with orders. Franz Jägerstätter on the other hand had decided on ‘not being willing to kill’ thus taking his bitter way towards execution. Therefore I revere him more than many saints. I beg our youth whose turn it is for military service to make better use of their conscience than we did. I don’t doubt that they will as a result reject serving in the army as Franz Jägerstätter did, thus showing the politicians a path to peace without violence.

Thoughts of a Veteran (1942–1945) for the Pilgrimage to St. Radegund

Sepp Kurz, from Munich, August 9, 1988 in Ostermiething: 1. In 1943, the year when Franz Jägerstätter refused to pick up a weapon, the war of aggression in Russsia was continuing for the third year. Half a year after the terrible end of Stalingrad, German soldiers were still present at the eastern front line before Leningrad, Orel and Charkow, between Djenpr and Wolga . . . France, Belgium, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Finland, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Romania, Greece, Yugoslavia and Italy were occupied by German troops. The end of the war was not yet in sight. Then, a single man risked the refusal. 76 erna putz

2. At that time, we—Christians, too—were convinced to fi ght in a “just” war. We spoke of the ‘crusade against Bolshevism’. To be sure, we were not Nazis, but we wanted to be “good Germans”. We lived with the belief that we represented the “vanguard against the Asiatic Bolshevists”. We had a ‘precise’ stereotype of the enemies: the Russians. 3. We considered those who shirked the war as deserters, scrimshankers as cowards, oath breakers, as traitors. 4. We believed our own maxims to be the truth: • “The realm (Reich) is there, where we make sacrifi ces • Wherever you are, stand fi rmly and serve totally. • We are in the midst of a bloody struggle or we guard the frontiers, absolutely determined in order to protect our fatherland.” 5. We didn’t realize that we maintained a front line at the risk of our lives, behind which • hundreds of thousands of people were miserably maltreated in concentration camps; • six million jews were pushed into the gas chambers; • lives ‘considered unworthy of being lived’ were extinguished. 6. Still today veterans boast about • the hardships they suffered • their decorations • their rank • their bravery. They don’t recognize the madness for which they had endured and done all that. 7. On our war memorials, you often fi nd phrases like the following ones: For his fatherland—for his native country—for his people was killed on the fi eld of honour . . . but you never fi nd the following words: In an absurd war, our twenty-years-old son and brother died in lonely despair.

Prayer of a former German Soldier on the grave of Franz Jägerstätter

Hans Pilatus (1988):

Lord When I was a schoolboy I called fellow students of Polish descent “Polacks.” When Germany invaded Poland I followed the call of my bishop and prayed for my Führer, my people, my fatherland. appendix 2 77

While the siren howled, the air alerts I sang the song “Bombs upon England”. While it was becoming clear to me that war is a terrible crime, I considered myself, (being a soldier) in the service of the fatherland, as ﬁ ghting for the liberty and security of my people. When the war was nearing its end and I wanted to get home safely, I, hoping for a decoration, destroyed a tank without thinking of its occupants. While the Americans were already deeply into German territory, I caught a deserter, contributing to or even causing his execution. None of it can I undo. Lord I believed you to be in the tabernacle. Among the countless victims of war, the torn, the burned and the crippled I did not search for you. Lord You can make the blind see. You can make the deaf hear. I want to rise up and point the way to you, Lord, so that those who are blind as I was will see you I want to shout So that those who are deaf as I was will hear you. APPENDIX 3: INTERVENTION TO THE SECOND VATICAN COUNCIL, 1965

Submitted by Archbishop Thomas D. Roberts SJ

The following is the English text of the written intervention submitted by Archbishop Thomas D. Roberts, SJ to the Second Vatican Council during its fourth and fi nal session in 1965. The former Archbishop of Bombay addressed the shortcomings of Schema XIII, the draft of what became the Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World (Gaudium et Spes) as they related to questions of modern war and conscientious objection: Venerable Fathers, Rather than support my comments with arguments from abstract principles, I prefer to set the case in terms of a specifi c example, which illustrates the task before this Council. The case concerns a young Christian layman, an Austrian peasant named Franz Jägerstätter, who was executed in Berlin on 9 august 1943, for his conscientious objection to a war effort, which was later condemned at Nürnberg as a ‘crime against humanity’. He was a poor and simple man, but we all know how often the simple and uneducated have been chosen by the Holy Spirit to bear witness to truths that were not recognised or accepted by mightier or (as the world sees it) wiser men. This young man, a husband and father, was called upon to make such a witness; to declare that the Christian may never serve in a war he believes unjust and to lay down his life, if need be, whenever the law written in his heart by God comes in confl ict with the orders issued by a secular ruler. This man’s witness was a solitary witness. All his fellow Catholics in his little village, the priests to whom he turned for spiritual guidance, even his bishop told him it was his duty to serve as ordered, since it was not for him to say whether his nation’s war was just or unjust. Nevertheless, his conscience insisted that he could not let the civil authority defi ne for him his moral obligation; he was convinced that the war was unjust and that it would be a sin for him to serve in it. To those who reminded him of the hardships his refusal would bring down upon his wife and children, he could only reply that God would surely provide for them if he obeyed the dictates of his conscience. And when the time came, he offered his life willingly in reparation for the sins of the world and went to his death thanking God for the privilege of witnessing to the Faith in this manner. appendix 3 79

I offer this case for the guidance and inspiration of us all. This is what we are talking about when we speak of conscientious objection; and it is by this standard we must measure what we fi nally proclaim. I gravely fear that the present Schema fails in at least two very important ways: First: It provides that the Christian is to give the presumption of justice to lawful secular authority when the injustice is not manifestly clear. The tragic fact is that the injustice of the Nazi cause apparently was not manifestly clear to the millions of Jägerstätter’s fellow Catholics who did accept military service. Nor was it manifest to their spiritual leaders, even those of highest rank, who encouraged and praised their military service. Since, therefore, the war’s injustice did not become suffi ciently manifest until large areas of the world had been laid waste and until the criminals were brought to judgment at Nürnberg, are we to declare now that Jägerstätter and the unknown others who made a similar witness were wrong, that they should have given the presumption of justice to Hitler and his allies? I think not, I certainly hope not. Second: There is a recommendation in the Schema that governments should positively favour the rights of conscience in making their laws. This is lamentably weak and insuffi cient. Jägerstätter always knew that his conscientious objection would mean his death, and he was prepared for that. But during his last few weeks in prison he continued to be troubled by his fear that he might be committing a sin by not following the advice offered by the spiritual leaders of his Church. What we must do here is to give clear testimony that the Church affi rms the right of the individual conscience to refuse unjust military service, and assure those of the Faithful who bear such witness that they will always have her fullest support. Once this has been done, martyrs like Jägerstätter will never again have to feel they take their stand alone. I plead with the Fathers to consider this man and his sacrifi ce in a spirit of gratitude. May his example inspire our deliberations. This does not mean that we should limit our thoughts to this one war. Perhaps the major scandal of Chistianity for too many centuries now has been precisely that almost every national hierarchy in almost every war has allowed itself to become the moral arm of its own government, even in wars later recognized as palpably unjust. Let us break with this tragic past by making a clear and unambiguous affi rmation of the right and the obligation of each Christian to obey the voice of his informed conscience before and during a time of war. I propose, therefore the following: • Let the paragraph on Page 80, Section 101 of the Schema relating to the presumption of justice be omitted. • For the words, ‘it would seem fi tting for legislation to refl ect a positive attitude towards those people who, in conscience, refuse to do military service’ let the following be substituted: ‘the Council commends the example of those nations which for more than half a century have 80 erna putz

successfully provided for the informed conscientious objection of their subjects, even in the hour of utmost peril.’ • The Council supports all efforts, as by the United Nations and the World Court of Justice, giving the full force of law to individuals refusing blind obedience. I am sending a copy of this intervention to the widow of Franz Jägerstät- ter presently residing in St. Radegund, Austria. CHAPTER FOUR

KAJ MUNK AND RESISTANCE

Arne Munk

Munk, Kaj (1898–1944), Danish pastor, prominent social critic, acknowledged innovator of the Danish theatre, successful and unsurpassed dramatist in Scandinavia during the 1930’s and 1940’s. Among his more than 40 plays “Herod the King” and “The Word”, in particular, bear the palm. Within 10 years “The Word” was adapted to the screen twice, and the adaption by the famous Danish ﬁ lmmaker Carl Th. Dreyer enjoys worldwide reputation. The Vatican considers it the third best religious ﬁ lm ever made. In the light of the social and political disorder, disintegration and bankruptcy after World War I, Munk looked up to the absolute masters of Italy and Ger- many as the only proper and reliable remedy. Mussolini’s Ethiopian campaign and Hitler’s persecution of the Jews knocked the bottom out of his uncritical sympathy, and on January 4, 1944 in the then German-occupied Denmark, he was assassinated by the SS because of his dauntless and uncompromising opposition against the invaders.

The Fight Goes On

Paul Gerhard Schoenborn makes some noticeable and mildly edifying reﬂ ections on the general acceptance of martyrs and martyrdom, the so-called ‘wirkungsgeschichte’, a German idiom, or term, which has become absorbed in most academic circles all over the world. The English equivalent would be Effective History. The Christian Martyrs—somewhat unlike their Moslem, predominantly more martial, colleagues—resemble their Lord and Master in regard to the circumstance that their surroundings, in the main, decline their performance and would rather have dispensed with it. Schoenborn is not in a tight corner for an explanation to this seemingly conspicuous phenomenon. To him the consequence of an approval of Franz Jägerstätter’s martyrdom would be that more than hundred thousand Austrians had died for Antichrist and perhaps even worse that the church of Austria, at least to a large extent, had betrayed her Lord and Master, Jesus Christ. 82 arne munk

The acknowledgement of Kaj Munk’s martyrdom would imply the same mark of failure, not only to the secular, but also to the Christian and Ecclesiastical Denmark which had to look nearer home, wear sackcloth and ashes, promise to mend their ways and adopt a totally new way of behaving. Christianity is, among other things, a call for soul-searching, consciousness, conversion, purifi cation and improvement. In the absence of these distinctive marks, there is no absolution and restoration. In Denmark the ‘Bewältigung der Vergangenheit’ (the assessment and overcoming of the past) is making an alarmingly slow progress, although the nation, on the whole, is extremely concerned with improvements of that kind for the rest of the world. Kaj Munk did not fear death. He feared the (eschatological) judgment of himself and his fellow-countrymen. And I say unto you, that many shall come from east and west and shall sit down with Abraham, and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out into outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matth. 8,11–12). . . . We may be chilled to the bone from anxiety that the Danish people, as a result of this carelessness, will end up in front of the closed door of life and of the hard Master of life (Munk 1948d, 354). In the depth of his heart and soul he was convinced that for Denmark, it was a better option to damage its relations with Germany than to the Lord Jesus, because to compromise with injustice—that alone will have the most serious consequences for the people and the country. The choice of words ironically refl ects the offi cial order and instructions to the citizens of Denmark during the German occupation; above all do not damage the relations with Germany. It may have the most serious consequences! Kaj Munk’s anxiety and despair were caused by the clash between the Norwegian church on the one hand and the German oppressors and their Norwegian henchmen on the other, and not least the handling of this struggle in Denmark. The Danish Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs had dispatched a circular to the clergy of the country in which it said, among others things: In a manifest on the 13th of this month the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has drawn attention to the fact that the struggle of the Norwegian church in certain religious publications has been treated in a way that will most kaj munk and resistance 83

likely damage relations with Germany, for which reason the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has suggested that the clergy of the country is informed (by the Church Ministry) under the present, diffi cult circumstances to abstain from any comment, spoken or written, on the struggle of the Norwegian church.1 For Kaj Munk, who whole heartedly aimed at a confrontation with the National Socialist paganism, together with all its national adherents, supporters and sponsors in occupied Denmark, a backing of the Norwegian Church in the name of Christ was a desirable and obvious step. However, his objection did not gain support. Even the shameful and outrageous treatment of the Jews did not incite the Danish Church to man the barricades. Not even the guru within the Danish Folk High School, Jens Th. Arnfred at Askov, the fl agship of this movement, undoubtedly in the good books of the spiritually awakened Danish youth, was inclined to distance himself publicly from this inexcusable and odious persecution of the Jews. A denouncement from him might very well have meant a difference. Justly or unjustly, Kaj Munk felt that he was the last man to hold the fi eld. All attempts of defying the enemy had proved to be harmless surface ripples. Kaj Munk did not underestimate his own importance and the impact of his statements, a fact which was confi rmed through the years. A letter, which Kaj Munk’s curate, Mogens Zeuthen, received from a Jewish friend in Copenhagen, seems to substantiate his self-worth, insofar as the writer of the letter asserts that a great many people would be extremely disappointed if he, in particular, did not sound the alarm. “I must go to Copenhagen,” Kaj Munk exclaims to his wife, “For the last time I must go over there and preach, and tell them the truth to their faces. NOBODY ELSE DOES IT!” (Nielsen Brovst 1984, 213). The truth! (A cardinal Christian virtue)2 The last time! The martyrdom,

1 A letter from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the Church Ministry 13.2.1943. Archives of the Church Ministry 4T 227.1. 2 A keyword in Kaj Munk’s spiritual resistance is truth, a concept, with which Jesus identifi ed himself, alongside the way and the life ( Joh 14,6). Kaj Munk detested lie and falsehood like poison. Above all, the devil was “the father of lie” ( Joh 8,44). Kaj Munk was exceedingly allergic to lying. According to Headmaster L.M. Hunø, lies to Munk were directly connected with physical discomfort. (Hunø 1946, 51ff.). In a way, Birgit Michelsen subordinates his martyrdom to his veracity, his love of truth, whereby his martyrdom, after all, becomes a sole consequence of his commitment to truth. Consequently, she reasons, martyrdom and suffering were not a wish or an endeavour; on the contrary, he wanted to live. However, as a Christian he had to 84 arne munk for Kaj Munk a cornerstone in Christian confession, for him the legitimate applicant to the Christian creed was just round the corner. The hymn: “I am awaiting you, Lord Jesus to judgment . . .”3 was almost an ever-present item at the Service in the church of Vedersoe. In November 1943 he set out for Copenhagen in order to rouse the Danish Church, which in his opinion remained dormant. Now it was high time to take the occupying power and its subservient ally to task. The rapidly aggravating situation for the Jews and the anaemic, futile Episcopal response to the monstrosity urged him immensely. The pastoral letter from the bishops on September 29, 1943 was somehow a coup, committed by the Copenhagen Bishop Fuglsang Damgaard who was tired of his colleagues’ watered down objections and manipulations ( Jacobsen 1991, 147ff.). The letter remained an ineffi cient gesture, mainly because it abstained from measures and sanctions. Kaj Munk (in his December sermon in the Copenhagen cathedral) called for an ambitious objective to infl ame the people to insurrection, because a Christian people, who remain undisturbed and unaffected when its ideals and high aspirations are trampled under foot, let the cancer of decay take residence in their minds and they shall be visited by the wrath of God (Munk 148d, 353). Kaj Munk’s offensive was agreed upon to be launched at The Church of the Holy Spirit in the very centre of Copenhagen, but the day before the vicar at the church got cold feet. Kaj Munk arrived at the bishop’s palace, where he was received by Calina Fuglsang-Damgaard, the bishop’s wife. She informed him that she had a piece of bad news for him. “The Germans have banned your service tomorrow.” The bishop joined them and confi rmed this. Instantaneously Kaj Munk exclaimed: “We must go ahead with this service tomorrow”. The bishop warned against rash action and objected: “We must consider it carefully.” Kaj Munk exclaimed: “Never consider! That is to succumb to deliberations, increasing irresolution and fi nally cowardice. The bishop’s wife interrupted: “The Reverend Helweg must be sent for. It is his church and his responsibility, whatever happens.”

speak the truth; the truth that we were silent about. That was why he had to suffer.” (Michelsen 2007, 18). 3 “Jeg venter dig, Herre Jesus, til dom”. Den danske salmebog (The Danish Hymn- book), Copenhagen, 2003, nr. 269. In memory of Kaj Munk there is a plaque of this hymn in his parochial church of Vedersø. kaj munk and resistance 85

Helweg turned up half an hour before curfew and remarked: “The case is too small to risk a struggle of the church over.” Kaj Munk pon- dered; the persecution and extermination of the Jews was too insignifi - cant a matter to risk an ecclesiastical confrontation with an excessively repugnant version of modern paganism? He was stunned, but continued to calmly address their conscience and celestial responsibility: “Only in the event that you, or the Bishop, or the Germans shall close the church for me tomorrow and prevent me from ascending the pulpit, I shall. . . .” The Bishop assured him: “I am not closing any church for you.” Helweg: “It is my responsibility; when it has to be, then it has to be. Very well, I will do it.” (Nielsen Brovst 1984, 223). The Danish church—according to a Dutch pastor—thus disgraced herself and her Lord, but she was going to degrade herself further. A proposal by Kaj Munk to adopt Helweg’s service at ten o’clock and leave the afternoon service to Helweg was turned down by the vicar himself: “People coming to listen to you shall not be exposed to me.” In the end it was agreed upon that Helweg, in short, was to inform the churchgoers that the service had been prohibited. This was exactly what Helweg did not do. The next day, he celebrated the service at full length. Within approximately a month, the opportunity of the revival of the cancelled struggle of the church presented itself in the form of Kaj Munk’s death and funeral. With an impressive virtuosity, the bishops exhibited extreme caution with the sole intention of not invoking the oppressors’ anger and retaliation upon the blameless population ( Jacobsen 1991, 168ff.). Kaj Munk’s unredeemed vision of an “ecclesia militans” in action accompanied him to his grave. According to human standards, he was a failure. He died without the encouragement of experiencing the illumination of his efforts. After a short post-mortem period of glorifi cation his star was wan- ing. Denmark, under the accusation and judgment of Christ and his servant Kaj Munk, was in no mood for self-knowledge, soul-searching and penitence. Vehemently and vindictively it formed an almost united front against him and his reputation. There were no limits to how much of a good-for nothing, bad lot he had been. A solemn vow, expressed by nearly all parties in the Danish Parliament during the liberation ecstasy; that it should be a social and governmental task to preserve his vicarage and secure his memory for generations to come (“a lasting and honourable memory” was the direct wording of this self-imposed obligation) was scrapped with a stroke of the pen, as 86 arne munk if it was in Hitlerian terms: “Nur ein Stück Papier!” (“Only a scrap of paper”). Initiatives to the erection of a Martyr church in Copenhagen in honour of him and his sacrifi ce were shot down by the social democratic Minister for Ecclesiastical Affairs, Bodil Koch, and her professor husband Hal Koch, who immediately after the war had launched a distorted and misleading smear campaign against the defenceless defunct. Characteristically in the case of Kaj Munk, his name and his exploits were excluded by the liberal historian Svend Skovmand, incidentally a close friend of the Kochs, in his “History of Denmark” for the pupils in the primary and lower secondary school. Foreign Kaj Munk scholars with a reasonable knowledge of Denmark and the Danes have been most confused about the recurrent attempts of a rehabilitation and purifi cation of Kaj Munk; as if he was the most obvious object for such undertaking among the Danes. A Canadian once confi ded to me that he did not know of any delusion that could be compared to this. The Dutch editor-in-chief Johann Winkler titled his book on Kaj Munk, which was published in 1950; “Kaj Munk—Dominee / Dichter / Martelaar” (Winkler 1950). It took Danish University Theology (The- odor Jørgensen) 50 years to reach the same conclusion, and one cannot avoid the suspicion that Jørgensen did it because of the depositing of Kaj Munk alongside the martyrs Kolbe, Bonhoeffer, Hammerskiöld, Luther King, Romero, Popieluzko in the martyr chapel of the cathedral of Strengnäs in Sweden. His inclusion long ago to the church window of The Lutheran Church of the Holy Spirit in Buffalo, New York was by no means a singular reaction. In Germany, Paul Gerhard Schoenborn has taken an active and laudable share (a considerable number of lectures and publications) in consolidating Kaj Munk’s reputation as a martyr. Another German, Christian Eisenberg, has also been active in this respect (Eisenberg 1994). Lately, the Norwegian Jan Pedersen has paid tribute to the martyr Munk with the book, “The Martyr Kaj Munk lives,” (Pedersen 2004). Worth mentioning is also the American woman writer, Beth Gut- cheon, who in a novel “Leeway Cottage”, calls attention to the fi ghting Norway at the expense of the surrendering Denmark and acidly remarks about Denmark: Denmark’s reward, in turn, for having rolled right over when the Wehr- macht came goose-stepping over the border was to be bragged of as a “model protectorate”—the proof that Hitler was really to get along with if only you tried (Gutcheon 2005, 108). kaj munk and resistance 87

She is contemplating the Danish wartime Prime Minister with scorn and she quotes Kaj Munk for the remark; “That as long as the Danes have a good tuck-in they do not care a damn for anything else.” My younger sister who lives in America received her book with the dedication: “For Inger whose father I revere with huge respect for his example and sacrifi ce.”4 In order not to distort and misinterpret the Danish aversion towards Kaj Munk, it must be emphasized that ordinary, moderately refl ective people visit his grave at Vedersø in numbers of 100,000 annually. Furthermore, when no person in Denmark surpasses Kaj Munk in monuments and plaque memorial tablets, it is chiefl y due to these people, who instinctively and uncorruptedly sense that he deserves their admiration. Who killed Kaj Munk? The SS of course, who else? The Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, Arne Sørensen holds a different opinion. He thinks that the perpetrators can be found elsewhere: The exchanges of views which I had during the war with Kaj Munk nearly always turned on a simple point, the spiritual brilliance and the aesthetic muddling of the fi ght against the occupying power. I consider it in no way an exaggeration to maintain that he was obsessed, on the whole, by this perspective. He loathed eloquent people, people with elegant command of the language in word and writing, abusing our greatest national and Christian values as solemn entertainment. Time and time again, he reacted against his own work, realizing that it was misused as national narcotic. When he recited, for instance, his play “Niels Ebbesen”, a call for resistance to a large and attentive audience, he became downhearted. He was well aware that the audience, captured by his words, would have been deeply insulted and horrifi ed, if, after the recital, he had taken them to the moor behind the village hall for the purpose of receiving a charge of weapons from a British aeroplane. In my opinion the people that killed Kaj Munk were these people (Sørensen 1946). Arne Sørensen had an eye on another section of Kaj Munk’s compatriots (Sørensen 1946): Kaj Munk might have admired the dictators however resolutely, but he was no Nazi and never had the intention of becoming anything of the kind. In that case there would have been abundant opportunity to place himself at the disposal of Fritz Clausen (Danish Nazi leader) or to have organized his own Nazi party long before April 9. For a person that looks through the eyes of Death, most human fates shrink to dry powder and

4 The author of this chapter is a son of Kaj Munk. 88 arne munk

only impressive and conspicuous actions survive. From this point of view, Hitler and Mussolini were diffi cult to overlook. However, in light of the resurrection, Hitler and Mussolini were doomed to eternal damnation, because they had revolted against God. Regarding this issue, Kaj Munk is clear in his message. When the fi ddlers in a broad sense, probably, sincerely believe that Kaj Munk was a Nazi, they were offended and made a note of it, but when Kaj Munk in the next moment predicted that both Hitler and Mussolini were insignifi cant ants that would be mashed by the foot of God, they never noticed it, because they ascribed no reality to that foot. Concerning the question, who was the actual killer of Kaj Munk, one of my university colleagues ironically remarked: In the fi rst place, he was undoubtedly slain by the Germans, but since then the leading and trend-setting people of his own country have done it over and over again.

Ethical and Religious Agenda

It can be no secret, considering the prelude to this paper, that Kaj Munk’s frame of reference was theological-ethical and not political- pragmatic.5 As soon as you bear this in mind, you reach quite another conclusion, studying his childishly denounced Ollerup speech, delivered at the renowned sports folk high school on the isle of Fionia a few months after the ignominiously unresisting surrender to the Germans. In my opinion, the Ollerup speech is one of the most signiﬁ cant manifestations in these years. It deals with the homeland and the ministers of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God. It was a shocking and paralyzing tragedy, the abolition of his beloved homeland, one of God’s most precious gifts to the Danes alongside with other inalienable close relations, given into the charge of the Danes who were thus responsible for its well-being and survival, face to face with God. One of the secrets of God was this homeland, and as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God it is required that they shall be found faithful; and in this connection it is of no importance

5 “Munk always expresses his resistance to collaboration and dictatorship in Christian terms.” (Mathiasen, 81ff.). kaj munk and resistance 89

if I should be judged of you, or of man’s judgment: yes I judge not mine own self. For I know nothing by myself; yet am I not hereby justifi ed; but he that judgeth me is the Lord. Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts . . . (1 Kor. 4,5f.). In a wider sense, Kaj Munk could subscribe to these words of the apostle Paul. This in no way indicates that he gave in to jingoism or chauvin- ism. Any religiously founded precedence of Denmark to other nations such as Grundtvig’s coronation of Denmark as “God’s little Israel in the North” disgusted him. Patriotism was no specifi c privilege. God granted this gift to all nations under the same sublime conditions. However, this shocking and paralyzing tragedy did not take him by surprise. It was a natural consequence for a country whose main goal was the socialistic welfare state, an exclusively worldly project, devoid of spiritual and eternal values. There was a vast difference between a social state, indebted to Christian values and a Pagan or secular welfare state. How could one seriously strive for a welfare state, when millions upon millions were starving to death all over the world? A catchphrase during the cold war, “Better red than dead”, precisely illustrates the mentality behind the Social Democratic welfare state in Denmark. Survival is more important than justice and decency. This leaves no room for sacrifi ce and martyrdom, in a way, the highest acts of human acknowledgement and cognition. In opposition to the Lord Jesus, the Danish social system shouted “done” when the devil presented the welfare state for them incorporated in Hitler’s prosper- ous “Neuropa”. That Hitler and later Stalin might have deprived them of their welfare state, eventually mutilated it or at best restricted themselves to lay down narrow limits for the administration of this giant on clay-feet never really occurred to them. They did not really combine the lack of national sovereignty with the loss of right of self-determination and freedom of action. One indulged in daydreaming and wishful thinking that the nation would get off scot free as it managed to do during World War I. The occupation of Denmark was only a provisional arrangement. In the long run Denmark would take its seat as an equal partner in Hitler’s “Neuropa.” In the thirties of the 20th century, Danish politicians were very much concerned not to fall out of favour with Germany. The Germans might claim the southern part of Denmark, which they 90 arne munk conquered in 1864 and after World War I were forced to return to the previous owner. Correctly, a Danish offi cer remarked: “Why on earth should Hitler care for a piece of land when he was on the lookout for the whole nation?” On April 9, Kaj Munk was in no other spiritual position than to interpret the events against his Christian background. The question, “What is suffering?”, was, so to speak, indirectly imposed upon him by the Radical Liberals—a supporting party for the governing Social Democratic Party—which had congratulated the government for the fact that the country was spared from sufferings; “Sufferings,” Kaj Munk reasoned, are among other things limbs torn off, towns in ruins, killed and maimed friends and children (sheer physical conditions), but I know of a greater pain, the elimination of the homeland, to live in a country where you shall teach your children to say ‘Yes’, while their burning innermost feelings say ‘No’ (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 56). About a month later, he wrote to his beloved schoolteacher Martinus Wested: I am so full of grief, indignation and anxiety that I can barely hold on to a pen. Most of all I am tormented by the circumstance that a great many Danes have placed themselves in the yoke of Germany, in addition, some of them with enthusiasm. They have become traitors to me, regardless of the fact that we may have been old friends. I am afraid of the German kindness. I would have much preferred my country in ruins and the extermination of myself and of my children. That would have been a tribute to the truth; this kind of life is nothing but camoufl age. The life we live is suspended animation, we walk in our sleep; we are hypnotized. And what do we know about tomorrow . . .? (Nielsen Brovst 1984, 137). To discredit suffering was in the eyes of Kaj Munk equal to renouncing Good Friday, the mystery of atonement and salvation, because there can be no Easter Morning without Good Friday as he perpetually and ardently emphasized. Quite sophistically, Kaj Munk visualizes the presence of the Radi- cal Liberal Party in the garden of Gethsemane, shunning sacrifi cial suffering like poison, shaking their heads in credulity over a situation which threatens to get out of control, energetically persisting on a negotiated settlement. “If the Radical Liberal Party had had its way,” Kaj Munk remarked dispassionately, “what would then have become of salvation?” kaj munk and resistance 91

The fatal shortcoming of democracy and parliamentarism, at least in the Danish version, is the belief (the superstition) that you can harvest without sowing. Incompatible with Christian faith is lack of conscience and repentance. When the Copenhagen newspapers reached his outlying domicile in West Jutland, he rubbed his eyes in incredulity. I had expected that they appeared in small, simple versions, provided with black borders, but no. I could not help asking myself: are we not signing our own death warrant? (Nielsen Brovst). No less incompatible with Christian faith were lies, unreliability, seduction and misleading. Did not Prime Minister Stauning—hardly a year before—with his throaty voice proclaim that dictatorship was not to cross the Danish border without the loss of many lives? Well, the dead bodies were easy to count—and Stauning’s was not among them. Incompatible with the demands of Christ is ignoring the beam in your own eye for the mote in your brother’s eye. Germany’s guilt and salvation were a matter between Germany and the good Lord, not a matter for an offi cious Denmark that should have plenty to do putting its own house in order. Incompatible with his Christian faith was, above all, to hate the enemy. “Hate the Germans? Out of question! Impossible by virtue of our nature and for the sake of Christianity.” (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 53) Quite frankly, what reason should Denmark have to vent its small- minded hatred on a nation to which it had offered its service without essential reservations and whose atrocities in slave and extermination camps it confi dentially supported and sponsored. Had Stauning not in the parliament, of his own free will, expressed his “understanding and sympathy” for the occupying power, one among many of his invita- tions to cooperation? Besides, it is also a Christian experience that nothing hurts like the truth. The decisive factor is how you respond to it. The rough treatment that Kaj Munk’s Ollerup speech has been subjected to is a riddle especially to foreigners familiar with Danish affairs. A Spanish professor once said to me: I consider it a genuine, Christian document, a challenge and an admonition to the sinful and self-righteous, the chronically infl amed conscience for whom there is no absolution, purifi cation, restoration, liberty and peace of mind. 92 arne munk

Admittedly everyone, Kaj Munk included, constantly ran the risk of dropping out of the state of grace. In a theological and ethical context, the grossly disputed Hitler passage of the Ollerup speech shrinks to a metaphor in which Hitler’s determination in a hopeless situation (his imprisonment after the abortive Munich coup) is juxtaposed with Stauning’s defeatism in a similar situation. Such a determination is, above all, of a religious nature and a religious force, whereby Stauning had proved non religious, without reach of the dynamic and visions and uncompromising endurance of religion. The decline in the case of Denmark was, after all, more fatal than in the case of Germany, because “has anybody suffered a greater harm than we. “We got Hitler and kept Stauning.” (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 52). We got National Socialism and kept a decadent, corrupt, compromising, unimaginative Social Democratic Party whose leaders encouraged Danish citizens to inform against Danish freedom fi ghters so that these might be brought to court and punished. A Christian Stauning might not have been able to prevent the Ger- man invasion and occupation, but he had been capable of saving his conscience, honour and integrity, “things far more valuable than buildings, crops, health and life” which the young student Munk maintained versus the liberal critic Oscar Geismar in the one-act play “The Vicar and The Student” (Munk 1984). Dishonour is no Christian virtue. Without realizing the religious dimension in Kaj Munk’s attitude towards the destiny of Denmark during these years, the deeper understanding and valuation of his exploit becomes a talk at cross purposes, a blind alley, a dead end. You are barking up the wrong tree, if you surmise that Germany was the real and veritable enemy. Germany assumed a strikingly subordinate position in his sermons and the German dictator Hitler was almost absent. External enemies play an inferior role. For we wrestle not against fl esh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness (Eph. 6,12).6 The Germans are not rejected. They are not lost. In paradise you might fi nd German generals as well as British ones. The scope is Augustinian,

6 Illustratively the German count Gert, stabbed by the Danish champion of liberty, Niels Ebbesen exclaims before expiring: “Nobody can kill me. I am eternal—eternal like darkness—the darkness into which I sink.” (Munk 1949c, 256). kaj munk and resistance 93 a controversy between ‘civitas dei’ and ‘civitas diaboli’. The enemies are not primarily the enemies of Denmark, of Western civilisation and culture, of democracy, of Kaj Munk, but the enemies of God and Christ. The enemies are not political and social, denominational, sectar- ian. They are religious. They are not always evil and mean. They are apostates, renegades, unbelievers, tempted, mislead, non-converted and obdurate, sinners. They have evaded, defi ed, counteracted or offended against their call, their vocation, their prescribed destiny, God’s plans, purposes and intentions with them. Kaj Munk was bound to draw the conclusion that parliamentarism and democracy, not being faithful to its own ideal premises and conditions, had failed. Did Christ and the Bible not tell him that not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven; but he that doeth the will of my father, which is in Heaven (Matth. 7,21). His own defi nition of truth was “to mean something and be faithful to it.” Double standards are offensive to Christianity. His highly esteemed theological teacher, Eduard Geismar, who once attended a religious meeting in Germany, told him that the atmosphere at the meeting gradually condensed to spiritual exuberance without control, where the participants were convinced that they merely had to get down on their knees to bring about the Spirit, rushing and roaring upon them, catching them up to Heaven. Then suddenly an Englishman shouted in bad German across the euphoric gathering: “Wir müssen Gottes Wille tun!” (Munk 1949a, 103). (We must (fi rst of all) comply with the will of God). It was impossible for Kaj Munk to interpret the events on April 9 as other than a defeat and an act of treason. In his fi gurative, picturesque language it was situation where “the red fl ag curtsied with the swastika”, where Stauning sacrifi ced his Marxism to National Socialism. No one with the entire capacity of his mental faculties would allege that April 9 was a victory or a triumph for the system.

A Foreseeable Development

Was the outcome not foreseeable? Did Kaj Munk not in his ﬁ rst sermon, at the age of 21, consent to the religious maxim: “Everybody, who has lost the Spirit of God, has to die; because in the Spirit of God there is life?” 94 arne munk

This sermon is a solid introduction to Kaj Munk’s theological universe and the continuity, ﬁ rmness and stability of his outlook on life. Kaj Munk remained basically unchanged as long as he lived. Already at that time, he had the premonition, a part of his prophetic disposition that there were hard times ahead for his country, which was a legacy from God, our Father. The coming time would be decisive for its existence and survival lay ahead, if it shall be wiped out and sink into oblivion in a clash between its external enemies and its internal subversives (far more dangerous) on one side and the congregation of Christ on the other (Munk 1948d, 24).

Mind you the true congregation of Christ!

This congregation is a community superior to dogmatic dissensions and quarrels, essentially submitted to the authority of Christ, willing instruments of His will. Nobody can namely exist, unless he chooses Christ as his king, peoples as well as individuals. A lasting society cannot build on, exclusively, technical progress, riches, laws and reforms. As isolated phenomena vanity and worthlessness. The church must assert her sovereignty, no longer be a tool for capitalism or a suitor to socialism which appears to please her for the moment, and you might add materialism, relativism, biologism, (social) Darwinism, feminism etc. In the mind’s eye of Kaj Munk Jesus is on his way to a modern capital of our world. People rolling in money hasten by in splendid limousines. From the upper classes he has never expected much. He turns his attention to the weak and dispirited, but they exist no more. Everywhere, he discovers arrogance and defi ance . . . The freedom and brotherhood, which he proclaimed, degenerated into a capitalistic tyranny of arrogance and a proletarian dictatorship of a class-defi ned majority; his call for “not to take thought for tomorrow” became state-subsidized idleness; his instruction to render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, led to so-called Christian nations choosing atheists and unbelievers as their leaders; his passion for pity ended up in sickening humanism. . . . What Jesus discovers is the great desertion. Offi cially, society pays homage to his teaching; in reality they do not care a hang. With a sigh, he murmurs: “If thou hast known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong on to thy peace” (Luk. 19,42), but the boisterous cheers to new technical conquests are drowning his voice. Man conquers the universe with aeroplanes, diesel kaj munk and resistance 95 engines and loudspeakers, and he says: “For what is a man profi ted, if he shall gain the whole world and loose his own soul?” (Matt. 16,26). Nobody believes him. The technical inventions are the vain victories of human intellect, which very well might lead to the eternal defeat of the human soul.7 Jesus enters the city, stops at the temple, his own church. What does he see? He sees rivalry, distrust, stigmatizing of heretics, carping, powerlessness and doubt. He recognizes that this society is rotten, its Tower of Babel a ramshackle ruin. For the days shall come upon thee, that thy enemies shall cast a trend about thee and compass thee round, and keep thee in on every side. And shall lay thee even with the ground and thy children with thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not he time of thy visitation (Luk. 19,43f.). Time of visitation is a key word in Jewish-Christian usage. To ignore such a visitation is fatal, fatal if wrath or benevolence and mercy of the supreme Visitor are unheeded and disregarded. But even if our native country moves towards its self-destruction—it does not entitle us to sit black; we ought to know our time of visitation. It is to day. Tomorrow it might be too late (Munk 1948d, 24). Readiness and preparedness were of vital importance. Death should not take him by surprise. This sermon of the young Munk testifi es that society did not refl ect Christian values and norms and if it imagined it did, it was in a distorted version. He was, by no means, optimistic as to the impact of Christianity in the world. He believed in ‘ecclesia militans’ and not in ‘ecclesia triumphans’. After worldly standard and consequence, Moses and Jesus were the most miserable and tragic fi g- ures. Moses tried, in vain, to create a realm of order and justice, Jesus, in vain, a realm of love and compassion. In spite of all their failure and miscarried efforts they, by virtue of their sole existence, warrant that the designation mankind is an ennobling designation. Their names, Kaj Munk points out, sparkle like stars over mankind even today, insofar as they are contrast to, for instance, Charles Darwin. Already as a boy, Kaj Munk confessed that he sided with the los- ers and that he would sooner stay with John the Baptist in jail than

7 An emphatic illustration of this phenomenon is the technicalities in connection with human reproduction. 96 arne munk with Herod in his royal palace. Christ was his man, whether he was a criterion of success or not.

The Internal Enemies and The First Commandment

Who were the internal enemies, mentioned in his fi rst sermon, the subversives that endangered the future of the nation to a higher degree than any external enemy? They were a motley crowd and not all of them equally conspicuous. Many of them were disguised as respectable and trustworthy citizens. First of all there was a hedonistic, libertarian movement, of which the most prominent fi gure was Poul Henningsen, an illegitimate child who suffered from an untreated slegfredson complex (in others words, he was born out of wedlock). He enjoyed a formidable admiration, especially in the larger cities of the country and a good many of his extremely uncritical adherents hailed him as a divine being. He declared war upon almost any social institution, banned church, nation, mother- hood and family life and attacked Social Democratic petit bourgeois ‘prejudices’ mercilessly. Bomholt (later Minister of Culture Affairs) and Steincke (Minister of Justice) are still dedicated to the great value of matrimony, conventional morality, large families and equal fi lth (Henningsen 1933, 10–11). When he fancied that the occupying Germany was gunning for him, owing to his anti-Nazi observations in the thirties, he turned tail and went off to neutral Sweden. The Kaj Munk biographer, former Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, Arne Sørensen scornfully remarked that Poul Henningsen and his communist fellow author, Otto Gelsted bravely fought Nazism from their gorgeous ‘sandwich-table’ in Stockholm (Sørensen 1946). In fact, there was no reason for their fl ight. They were not in the slightest wanted by the Gestapo. Kaj Munk was, moreover, on the guard against the pacifi st movement, forwarded among others by the popular author Jeppe Aakjær and his belligerent wife and the father of Hal Koch, Hans Koch. In a sermon from 1943, titled “Christ and Denmark”, Kaj Munk brings discredit on the intellectual aristocracy of the country: Where is the struggle of our people for the faith which it has professed in the past? Where is the will to victory for the ideals, which it altogether kaj munk and resistance 97

wants to prevail?—Have no faith in the politicians when they praise us fulsomely . . . Their job as politicians is, according to existing rules, dependent that they praise those that vote for them. Do not trust them. They are a party to the case! And do not trust the folk high school people. Alas, where is the ardent faith in this pitch-black night? And who is livid with rage? Has Grundtvig (Christian revivalist and founder of the folk high school movement) begotten this school in extremely old age when he was more senile than he ever was? . . . Do not trust in vicars . . . they are reared in humanism, they have forgotten or it has never been conveyed to them what Christianity really is. They have been sucking lo-o-ove from the feeding bottle. In a world of real manhood they all too often advocate effeminacy. They keep out of politics. They preach peace at all costs to the edifi cation of the devil who glories in that evil is left to spread in peace. . . . Do not trust the majority which readily dance to somebody’s pipe.The majority makes itself cosy, lapping up the eulogy of its advocates, praising its marvellous self-discipline, exceptional solidarity and high culture. . . .8 Building castles in Spain was the Danish ‘world supremacy’, founded on disarmament. Our splendid civilization would knock any warrior down. . . . Nobody could harm us. Grenades and bombs would glance off from our splendid civilization. Our ambition it should be to build mankind mankind’s eternal empire here on earth. And what happened, by the way, when this unsurpassed civilization was tested? How did it manage? Did our government not headlong pass laws, which, substantially, are no laws? Has our press not miraculously come to heel, everywhere putting a good face on it? Our law-courts, whose incorruptibility used to be a pattern for the world, do they refl ect justice more than these laws? And art? I dare say it saves its skin by beating about the bush. And our University, has the Eagle, its landmark cast down his eyes or does he still defi antly turn his glance towards the heavenly light in honour of himself and his Scandinavian sisters? Oh, thou splendid civilization of Europe, thou idol, created to our own liking, in our own image. There we lay and worshipped ourselves (Munk 1948d, 335–41). But what preyed on his mind in particular was the downfall of the Danish folk high school, once the breeding ground for Christianity and patriotism, now infi ltrated by Marxism and freethinking liberalism. One of the most dramatic and legendary events in Kaj Munk’s wartime experiences was when he entered the lion’s den at Askov, the stronghold of the folk high school. President of one of the largest Youth organizations, leftist Professor of Ecclesiastical History, Hal Koch, thick

8 Recurring, offi cial pats on the back during the war. 98 arne munk as thieves with the school board, had consented to his lecturing, hoping that he would lose face and leave the place as a defeated man. Kaj Munk mounted the rostrum: “Since the day the Ministry of Stauning-Munch in a cowardly and dishonourable way abandoned Denmark to the murderous bandits of Germany . . .” Then he stopped and after a long pause, in which he searchingly watched the audience, he proceeded: “I beg your pardon. I have not got the permission to speak in that way.” (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 204).9 Professor Hal Koch was infuriated and regretted on the very spot that he had let the pupils in, although he, on paper as a disciple of Grundtvig, was a sworn supporter of free speech. “Had I been familiar with the contents of the lecture, then it should have been a closed meeting,” he asseverated. Now it was tradition at Askov after the lecture to resume the discussion in the headmaster Arnfred’s living room in the presence of a limited circle. When Kaj Munk for a long time, rather indifferently had listened to the waffl ing peacemakers to the benefi t of the Germans and to the detriment of a disgracefully harassed world, he rose agitatedly, insisting on uncompromising, armed resistance towards the enemy, and he pressed Arnfred’s mahogany chair so violently against the fl oor that it was damaged. In commemoration of this historic moment, Arnfred abstained from repairing the chair. To the dismay and loathing of Kaj Munk, Hal Koch stuck by his—to a more profound recognition—subversive activities. In an article “A Cloak for the Radical Liberalism”, prohibited by censorship,10 he rejects Hal Koch as a suitable leader of Danish youth. In the May edition of the periodical of his youth organization, Hal Koch hurried to the aid of his beleaguered government.

9 In Denmark freedom of speech was a thing of the past, a fact, by and large, accepted by its grand and warm advocate at the Danish folk high school. 10 Already from May 26, 1941, just about a year after the German invasion the Danish vassal government subjected Kaj Munk to censorship. In a conﬁ dential note from the press bureau of the Foreign Secretary it is impressed upon the editors of the country that a poem “Now Denmark demands that we show strength”, printed in the newspaper the “Jyllandsposten”, under no circumstances must be brought by other papers. Without a copy of this note, forwarded by the post-war Minister of Ecclesi- astical Affairs, Arne Sørensen, to Kaj Munk the latter would have been ignorant of its existence. Kaj Munk became more and more a thorn in the ﬂ esh of the Danish government and his dismissal was a top priority, but impracticable due to public feeling and expected disapproval. kaj munk and resistance 99

It is the task of the present government to save the situation. . . . It has to act in accordance with it best ability and conviction. Frequently it must adopt measures which are an insult to liberty, frequently it has to make statements contrary to truth. Incredible! A leader of the Danish youth, giving his government free rein to act illegally, criminally; even commit perjury, as long as he maintains the privilege of protesting. Here Machiavelli is, verily, left behind. The government is supposed to save the situation by apparently any means. In the case this government fancies to set fi re to the Supreme Court and put the blame on “Dansk Samling” (anti-governmental party) it will be justifi ed in doing so, as long as it saves the situation (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 247–48). Ye gods! Imagine a Christian professor in charge of such an objective? How did it relate to the prayer of the Lord’s Prayer “thy Kingdom come? Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven.” To the obligation of the sanctifi cation of the earth, a central notion in the largest religious communities, was it not—according to Kaj Munk—the mission of The Catholic Church to be the serving master of all mankind with the ambition that this earth which now seems to fall burning and dizzy through the desolate space, should come to a halt, get its burns nursed and anew be lifted up to Heaven for which it after all is destined? In the spring of 1943, the government and the Germans concocted a general election on the condition that things should remain unchanged, a badly disguised bluff election in which the Danes should be enticed not to vote for the (the more or less shady) government, but for democracy.11 Unworthily, the vast majority toed the line. Distastefully and calculatingly, the government had taken the people hostage. If, one day, somebody would call it to account, it would wash its hands of it and pass the buck on to the people. It was, after all, the decision of the people, a fi nal decision not to be appealed to a higher court and so the monotonous excuse has been ever since. In democracy the people are considered infallible. Kaj Munk, however, knew of a higher court. Hal Koch was delighted. The people had acquitted the government.

11 A matter, which seemed far away. To the surprise of nobody the government under dictatorial supervision, not voted for, continued; and democracy, voted for, stayed away. 100 arne munk

Caught by Napping

Long ago, Kaj Munk had seen the writing on the wall. Danish society did not possess the resources to stem the gigantic tidal wave of tyranny. Its social ambitions were fi nanced by a—counter to dawning international standard, right of self-determination—“undemocratic” sale of the Danish West Indies to the USA12 and the sub-let of the Danish substratum to the Americans for a period of 80 years, or fi nanced by the profi teers, the so-called goulash-barons during World War I, gorging on the misery of the warring parties of bleeding Europe and so forth. With a mixture of creepy fascination and anxiety, Kaj Munk watched the power-swelling, indomitable regimes, which seemed destined to draw down the curtain for his country. The will to defend oneself as well as the power of defence deterio- rated swiftly. In the play “Taking the Law into One’s Hands” on the Prime Minis- ter, Stauning, the defence of the country became a political commodity. Under no circumstances was it on the cards that one’s leading issues should be a matter of confi dence. Stauning was reprimanding his idealistic Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs who abhors the government’s brutal abortion laws. Young man, you do not know much of the mechanism of a democratic state. It is of less importance what I personally intend to do . . . This law is a demand of our friends, the radical liberals. They have got the fi xed idea that they will not reproduce themselves, in their case, undeniably, the best intention they ever had; but then they are obsessed with the idea that also others ought to refrain from it; it is saddening, but I have to indulge their whims; because I need some money for my unemployed and perhaps to one or two warships; I am really worried for our lads when the war pops in on Monday and our defence is neglected. Moreover, the radical liberals are good for 40,000 votes without which we shall go to the dogs at the coming election (Munk 1937, 34). However, Danish democracy was also in the pocket of the European dictators in a more tangible way—long before the ninth of April. German warships were supplied in Danish harbours. Italy and Ger- many were capable of vetoing the repertoire of the National Theatre.

12 In this connection it is remarkable that the population of South Schleswig, under German dominion for sixty years was granted the opportunity of voting itself back to the kingdom of Denmark, whereas the inhabitants of West Indies were sold like cattle. kaj munk and resistance 101

The intellectual liberty was a cock-and-bull story long before Hitler’s troops invaded Denmark (Bay-Petersen 2003; Munk 1939b). It was obvious that Danish Cabinet responsibility was incapable of securing that Danes could remain master in their own house. In a mood of bitterness, Kaj Munk touched up Shakespeare’s Hamlet, in which the South-Jutlandic Fortinbras, the symbol of a half century’s Danish opposition to Germany’s occupation of the border district and the unfl inching determination to withstand German suzerainty, performs his Mussolini march to Copenhagen which in the spring 1934—in accordance with Kaj Munk’s well-known prophetic instinct—surrenders without a fi ght. The play “The Operation” follows the same track. When the French Head of the State Marchanel in “The Bird Phoe- nix” (1926) portrays his people rather non-sentimentally it is, actually, Kaj Munk’s characterization of his compatriots. The course of events and a long life of experiences have taught me that Sojterig and Rubesia cannot possibly exist side by side. The population of Rubesia is rotten. It has no backbone and far too much culture to assert itself in perpetual wars over centuries with an enemy so ferocious and rutting as the barbarian to the south (notice south). I despise my people. But I love my country. It must never perish (Munk 1939a, 39). The social democratic critic, Svend Erichsen, was extremely vexed with the fact that Kaj Munk disliked his people to the same extent as Goethe did his, an attitude, which must be considered a crime in the native country of Grundtvig and the folk high school where folklore and national mind have been studied passionately and exalted unreservedly. The observation is probably correct, although with the modifi cation that the scepticism and reservation he might have displayed towards the collective Denmark were balanced by just as vivid an affection to his fellow countrymen a one-to-one basis, especially to those who played second fi ddle. This is corroborated, among other things, by his narration “John from the Dunes” (a Jutlandic smallholder with a large family) (Munk 1948b, 159–64). In connection to Grundtvig, it has been postulated that just as much as Grundtvig dissociated himself from the ordinary man, just as much did Kierkegaard enjoy his company and just as much did Kierkegaard dissociate himself from the collective Denmark, and just as much did Grundtvig cultivate it. 102 arne munk

Partnership

In church history as well in the Bible striking parallels to Kaj Munk’s religious, ethical stand against his ideological surroundings. As a character he was congenial with the prophet. He was in opposition to conventions and the actual standards of society, the offi cial institutions and the offi cial religious climate. In contrast to the sages, the politicians of Ancient Israel he was not guided by the etsah, the advice, the ethically neutral reason, general practice, negotiations, alliances, diplomacy and actual politics, but by the spontaneous, informal dabar of God to his servants, the prophets, ‘the word of God’ which was not an institutional message, but a condition in which the receiver was a medium for the divine will, the negligence towards which would imply retaliatory measures, divine wrath, judgement and punishment, unlike the sphere of the sages, the politicians where the outcome was good times and bad, success or failure. A prophet is, more over, an elect, called person with a destiny, not selected and nominated as a consequence of his inborn or acquired characteristics and qualities. His objective, his obsession is the religious, moral refi nement of his people, not its comfort and satisfaction. Social and juridical ambitions and aspirations were a principal question of justice and not an issue of obtainable equilibration. The relationship between God and man was founded on the basis of a covenant, not just of an alliance of more or less interests. External enemies were primarily a divine tool to the upbringing of his people, to the invigoration of their consciousness of sin and sense of guilt and need of salvation. In the play “Before Cannae” a direct confrontation between Hannibal and Fabius (Hitler versus Churchill), Fabius argues: “But every time we (the Romans) grow sluggish, Jupiter gives us a fright, such as you with your pikestaff, to wake us up again.” (Keigwin 1964, 270).

Self-sacrifice Onto Death

At least from the year 1919, Kaj Munk, at the age of 21, was fully convinced that a sincere disciple of Christ could not consider the sheer preservation of a life as a purpose in itself. In his play “The Opera- tion”, Bishop Sehnil proclaims: “Christianity is self-sacriﬁ ce onto death.” (Munk 1949e, 220). kaj munk and resistance 103

Christianity is ‘kenosis’, a devotion to Christ and an imitation of him, a defi nitive emptying of oneself. Martyrdom is the optimal ‘kenosis’. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God thought it not robbery to be equal with God: But made himself of no reputation (“kenosis”, emptied himself ), and took upon him the form of a servant, and was in the likeness of men; And being found in fashion of a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient onto death, even the death of the cross (Phil. 2,6–8). In the fi rst place, this implies an act of obedience, and obedience of faith was a matter of course to Kaj Munk. You may hear people, as often as not, praising Kaj Munk for his courage, his intrepidity and fearless- ness, his contempt of death, but he himself would have considered it a self-evident expression of obedience to Christ with a heart pounding with fear, but for Kaj Munk it was more than that. Martyrdom was not just an act of confession and a catching testimony as it was in the early church, but also an act of recognition. Nothing communicates a greater and more profound knowledge of the depths of existence than martyrdom. Besides an ethical enrichment, it is also an intellectual one. In addition, his was a performance of faith, a standard for the strength, intensity and viability of your faith, an indication of whether you stand the test or not, the puritanical executioners’ block, ordeals by fi re, the indispensable means to attain your end, to articulate the invaluable and elevated “consummatum est”, the highest pinnacle for a human being to reach. The carrying capacity and wearing qualities of faith are a predominant motive in his famous play “The Word”. Mikkel Borgen: If a father can’t PRAY for his loved son (in the case for the cure of his lunatic son)—even in the hour of bitterest need—well, then there is no place for miracles in this world (Keigwin 1964, 94). Like his Saviour, he predicted, at an early hour, prophetically his own passion, account of his sufferings. In the poem “Master with The Heavy Crown of Thorns” (1921), martyrdom is refl ected as an act of imitation. According to the poem, Christianity implies not only ‘sacramentum’ (healing, salvation, atonement) but also ‘exemplum’. Christ inexorably demands that you, for the sake of his name and his kingdom, readily join him unto death, in spite of bindings and obligations to a rich family life and profound human relations and ties, benefi cial and edifying 104 arne munk activities, not just in the category of earthly bliss, but moreover a resounding metaphysical manifestation of “the beautiful earth”, God’s creation, a paradoxical gift which you have to abandon, although you, justly, are spellbound by it. Only thereby life, in the true sense of the word, can be gained. The conditions here do not allow a closer analysis of the martyr complex in Kaj Munk’s thinking.

Prophetic Dimension and Sacrament

The most absorbing aspect is the prophetic dimension in his martyrdom. In the play “He Sits at The Melting Pot”, in the appearance of Bishop Beugel, he predicts his own end. In the dispute with the National Social- ist Professor Dorn, the evangelical Bishop Beugel, who because of his defence of the Jews is interred in a concentration camp, remarks: Threats—oho? Threats of concentration camps! Pah! But do you know how I am spending the time? I water my strawberries, entirely by myself. Two and a half pots, which amounts to 25 bucketfuls three times a day, if the early part of the summer is dry. You do not frighten me by ordering me to wheel a barrow. And if you intend to do things worse to me . . . (Munk 1949c, 37). Undoubtedly he alludes to his martyrdom. Five years later, Kaj Munk found himself in a similar situation, the injustice against the Jews, just as committed to truth as Bishop Beugel, risking an internment and perhaps things worse than that. Dishonesty was triumphing. Only a handful of men raised their voices in protest. The persecuted Jews pinned their hopes on him. The curate Mogens Zeuthen received at letter from a Jewish friend as mentioned above, who stressed that if Kaj Munk did not speak his mind, a lot would be disappointed, an indication of the sporadic and limited protestations and a conﬁ rmation of the weight which people at that time attributed to the words of Kaj Munk. At this time, Vedersoe church was regarded as the proper cathedral of the country by a large number of people. On December 5, Kaj Munk was heading for the capital as his favou- rite apostle Paul, the ﬁ nal destination for their missionary work, the natural closing of their Christian endeavours. He ascended the pulpit: “When there in this country is implemented a persecution against a group of our fellow citizens . . .”. kaj munk and resistance 105

Materially, he could have pointed at many other perpetrations of Antichrist, justifying a martyrdom as he suggests, but anti-Semitism was one of the most disgusting pagan excesses, because it turned against one of the most fundamental features of the identity of Christ, his apostles and of Christianity, their Jewish origin and background. Was it not a Jew who had taught Kaj Munk the prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us?” (Munk 1949c, 37).13 Here Hitler, the Antichrist incarnate, according to the editor Jacob Kronika, revealed his, above all, hideous face.

Martyrs, Knight’s Templar, Crusaders and Christian Soldiers

As to the unarmed Christ as an example of imitation some are inclined to deprive the Knights Templar of the glory of martyrdom. In the remarkable one-act play “The Death of Ewald” (Danish poet of the 18th century) (Munk 1949c, 305–12), in many ways Kaj Munk’s spiritual will, the drunken, down-at-heel wimp of a poet, although in his decline not without calibre, confesses: —most of all, God, I have loved Your proud son, the warrior from Golgotha who fought sin and death unarmed—to the beneﬁ t of all

13 See (Munk 1949c, 37). As demonstrated a distinctive mark in Kaj Munk’s life was a conformation with Christ and his apostles (cf. Rom. 8,29; Phil. 3,10.21). People have been debating whether this was coincidental or intentional. Why not predetermined or inspired? As Christ and Paul were bound to go to the capital, Jerusalem, so was Kaj Munk destined to go to Copenhagen, the capital of his country. His last play “Alver- dens Urostifterne” (“The Universal Troublemakers”) 1943, (Munk 1947), based on the Acts of the Apostles. During an interview Sigurd Enggaard Poulsen asked me: “Was there any similarity between Paul and your father? As we know your father identifi ed himself with Paul.” I replied: “Paul was a consistent character, whether he persecuted the Christians or he put his back into the victory of Christianity. He was equally consistent before or after his conversion. For my father it was vital that the incentive for Paul was not his own decision, but that he, as he himself puts it, is “bound in the spirit”. “And now, behold, I go, bound in the spirit onto Jerusalem not knowing the things that shall befall me there.” (Act. 20,22) As it is evident from the last picture of the play Paul’s decision to go to Jerusalem was not his own idea or invention. He sets out on his journey in faith and confi dence to God. To him it was obvious that nothing in this world can have another issue than that which has been ordained by God. My father shared these contents of consciousness with the apostle. The point is not personal courage or fi rmness, or death urge or by whatever ideas the uninitiated are haunted. It is the will of Christ and the readiness of his followers. That is the essence of being in God’s hands. 106 arne munk

mankind. We were to conquer only by means of evil; he alone by virtue (Munk 1949c, 310). We encounter the same reservation and scruples, concerning killing and forcible resistance in the name of Christ in the play “Niels Ebbesen” in which the principal character, at long last, determined to liquidate the tyrant, is offered the Eucharist, but hesitates to accept it with the objection that Christ was no man of violence. Finally, he accepts it, persuaded by the monk, Father Lawrence, who assures him that he, in spite of his murderous intentions, would not be receiving the sacrament unworthily. Then forgive me, Brother Lawrence, forgive all my sins, the ones I have committed, and the ones I am going to. And then give it to me, the holy sacrament, but without words (Munk 1949c, 248). In the fi nal scene after the assassination of the tyrant, Niels Ebbesen, in compliance with his wavering nature and fi ckleness, seems to be in two minds about the legitimacy of his deed. His blood was red as that of mine. . . . I killed him without a fi ght . . . There is blood on my honest sword. A stain on my shield and of that of Den- mark (Munk 1949c, 259). These two viewpoints seem at odds with one another. On the one hand, killing is justifi ed, if it pursues the code of chivalry, but as an assassination abominable. Niels’s scruples are, evidently and notably, not religious, but Lawrence interprets it in that way and he assures Niels Ebbesen that there is joy in Heaven because of one devil less on earth. The tyrant was already doomed. Niels Ebbesen did nothing but execute the judgment. It cannot be excluded that these deliberations originate from the strongly disputed liquidations of informers, which in the case of Denmark proportionally outnumbered the rest of the German-occupied Europe, mostly because of the government’s encouragement to inform against opponents of the Germans as an act of national obligation. Theologically, it is sensational to forgive sins, not yet committed. I suppose that any confessor would suggest that I refrained from my sinful enterprise as a condition for absolution. Father Lawrence would, no doubt, agree to that, but there are exceptions, symptomatic for the structure of Kaj Munk’s thinking. ‘The simple and pure of heart’ seems to enjoy a dispensation, an implied licence to kill. According to kaj munk and resistance 107

Lawrence, the motives for killing are crucial and decisive. Still, killing is illegitimate. Otherwise, there was no reason for the allocation of the Eucharist that even neutralizes sins not yet committed but deliberately sustained. The ﬁ nal scene of the play “The Victory” (about Mussolini) might contribute to an elucidation of the problem. Also here, a monk knows the answer: The aspiration of man is savaged by the Sin; nevertheless it is sacred to aspire; you are to move, although all roads on earth lead nowhere. Only through the bitter puriﬁ cation of death, the souls will reach the mercy that grants the erring people rest and victory to the defeated (Munk 1948a, 300). However, it must be stressed that Kaj Munk contested the plausibility of this solution for the intention of the play. Sacramental presence of Christ, in one form or another, is vital for the dramatic mystic, Kaj Munk. This presence is a transforming and modelling power, an incomparable source to inspire actions and exploits. Besides, in “Niels Ebbesen”, “The Death of Ewald”, it also occurs in “The Melting Pot”, and in “Charity” (a play about an unbelieving pastor).

Christianity and Resistance

It is important for the Roman Catholic Theologian Karl Rahner to distinguish between “the ready, voluntary submission to death in faith” (Rahner 1959, 95) and death as a possible consequence of a martial effort, the goal of which is victory and not death and sacriﬁ ce. The soldier and the martyr cannot therefore be consolidated. Helle Mathi- asen might very well deliberately have provided her article on Kaj Munk in the book “Resisters, Rescuers and Refugees” with the title “The Spiritual Resistance of Kaj Munk” (Mathiasen 1997), but, in Kaj Munk’s production, there is in no way a counterbalanced differentiation between the martyr, the Knights Templar and the ‘Christian soldier’. In a sermon, he underlines: We Christians shall not be all alike. Let there be Christians to whom God has given the call to demonstrate the disgust of Christianity for war, by renouncing all its nature and doings, on their way to martyrdom (Munk 1948d, 259ff.). 108 arne munk

“But still”, he passionately stultifi es himself, we have witnessed a little country (Finland ed.) attacked by a roaring and mighty and merciless enemy. The men of this country faced the enemy, defending their wives and children, singing hymns to God, praising Him as a solid fortress. All sacrifi ces and sufferings they have taken upon themselves to protect the dearest gift, granted to them by God . . . I ask the Lord Jesus: Do you condemn them? And the Holy Spirit answers in my heart: I would have condemned them, if they like slaves for cowardice and despair had sacrifi ced others in order to save themselves . . . The Christian soldier is the man who in the name of humanity suffers in order to protect others from sufferings (Munk 1948d, 259ff.). As a representative of the Knights Templar, Kaj Munk points at Absa- lon, a medieval Danish bishop and ‘crusader’. In the one-act play, “The King”, the bishop announces: And for that reason the climax of my life is to stand in front of the Lord’s altar and in the next moment to his honour throw myself into the turmoil of war. The crucifi x that I lift and the sword—both of them—have the shape of the cross (Munk 1949c, 265). When Kaj Munk goes all out in the answer to Elsebet Kieler from the organization “Frit Danmarks Studentergruppe” (Students for an independent Denmark) at a time, where she was in a serious loss about the means to achieve her goal, one is tempted to surmise that this is a consequence of the situation coming to a head, because of despicable Danish ambivalence. It is the will of Christ to help widows and fatherless and this might be done by shooting robbers that assault them. It is far from Christians to leave it to others to engage in defence and thereby incur agony and misery and for my own part sit down and vanish in Nirvana. That is opium and depravity. Make up your mind, become a Christian and kill in the name of Jesus (Møller 2000, 317). In the play “The Victory”, the chancellor (Mussolini) says to his son Carlo: And the more fi lth a man can endure for the sake of his ideal, the greater I suppose he is? And you, cannot you take on the pains of fi lth for your native country? (Munk 1936, 43). Though it is unlikely that the demands of Christ are identical with those of a nation. When Kaj Munk, on various occasions, asserted that nobody can deprive us of the right to be placed in front of a wall with guns pointing kaj munk and resistance 109 at us, he might very well have responded to the sincerest bottom of his heart to a higher degree than when he shouted: Ad armas! As late as November 7, 1942 in “The Christian Academic Associa- tion”, Kaj Munk ended his moving address to the students with an appealing exclamation: “Danish students, do not ever forget that there is a privilege of which the mighty never can deprive us, the right to martyrdom (Nielsen Brovst 1993, 217ff.). Furthermore, considering how often Kaj Munk referred to Acts 5,40ff. one might get the impression that Christ as Ebed Jahve (The Suffering Servant) ought to be the ideal for his followers. As to spiritual resistance, not least to martyrdom, Kaj Munk had a strong perception of being on the same wavelength as deep-rooted Christian tradition and in total harmony with the imitatio Christi. When it comes to physical or even armed resistance the matter is more complex as it, hopefully, appears from our investigation. Whereas martyrdom and spiritual resistance are evidence of prophetical clear- sightedness, the prompting to physical and armed resistance rests on a dialectical process, for which the art form of the drama was a useful melting pot. Principally, killing is not allowed, but nevertheless there is forgiveness for this serious violation of God’s ‘magna carta’, the Noachidian Laws (Gen 9,5f.) and the divine Kingdom of peace, (cf. Es. 11). Particularly, the plays “Niels Ebbesen” and “The Death of Ewald” do not immediately condone violence and killing. Apparently, not everybody can be entrusted with such an assignment. Basically, certain conditions must be taken into consideration.

1) Special mental qualities for the executioner in question 2) a speciﬁ c vocation 3) an intimate relation to the risen, living and tangibly present Christ 4) a literal perception of the Sermon on the Mount 5) accept of God’s unrestricted sovereignty and liberty in relation to creation and His world order 6) consciousness of the fact that truth is endangered, when it becomes man’s possession

Rather undogmatically Kaj Munk maintained: To be a Christian implies a relationship to Christ, in which life is transferred from his life to my life 110 arne munk and (as son of his Heavenly Father) Jesus was not indebted to rules and principles, he was so much of a living man that he characterized himself as LIFE; he did not deduce his preaching from a book, nor from History or nature; he perceived it within his mind, day after day, hour by hour (Munk 1948d, 256). On a train ride to Copenhagen, Kaj Munk ran into a pastor who incredulously commented on the suicide of a colleague, “How do you think God reacts to such a misdeed?” Kaj Munk replied: “He most likely does not consult the articles. He settles it on a case-by-case basis.” (Munk 1989, 29). Regarding to the sovereignty of God, he inculcated an old school- mate, Ragnhild Bjarke, in reply to a letter, that a child very well could be lost as a result of parents keeping it away from Christianity. “God has never undertaken to succumb to our logic. If not he would not be God, but a human being.” (Bjarke 1946, 107–28). In the play “En Almanakhistorie”, Maren exclaimed, devastatingly affected by an induced abortion: “Oh, my little child, my little unborn child, where is it now? Are you hard on it, God, in order to punish me, You, who punish the children for the sins of the fathers to the third and fourth generation. . . .” (cf. Ex 20,5) (Munk 2005, 214). Where an excessive and passionate call for killing of the enemy can be traced, it generally refl ects a polemic situation, in which cocksure, self-glorifying peace-fanatics pharisaically, aggressively almost exclude homicide in self-defence, which, on the whole, disgustingly, did not prevent them from reaping the benefi ts of a peace, brought about by warring nations. A man, once, asked Kaj Munk: “What do you think these peacemakers will do on the Liberation day of Denmark?” Bitter-sweetly he replied: “They would, naturally, on the very spot, ask our liberators to get out of the way and never ever make life a burden to the Germans. To receive peace as a result of war must be an abomination to them. Perhaps they will even mourn that day and lower the fl ag to half mast.” The extreme implacability of the peace enthusiasts was a perpetual food for thought. He most vividly depicts his desertion from the anti- militarist vicar and theatre critic Oscar Geismar in his memoirs. After dissenting opinions on the reasonableness of the heroic, bloody defence of the Belgian nation during World War I, the atmosphere was spoilt and when he “a few hours after his clandestine and rapid retreat found him self on board the ferry to the island of Zealand, he felt secure, kaj munk and resistance 111 looking back on “my Dunkerque”. “I went to Døjringe, to my cousin Ida and cooled down. All night we discussed God and mankind, war and the militant peace enthusiasts. . . .” (Munk 1942, 255). On the other hand, humble, sincere and self-sacrifi cing Quakers, never taking up arms, compelled his respect and admiration. This dialectical approach to physical resistance has not been alien to Kaj Munk scholars and among solutions to the dilemma, one has proposed a graduation or an approximation to the ideal, or metaphori- cally referred to a pyramidal order of precedence, in which spiritual resistance and martyrdom constitute the top. The problem has also been viewed in Plotinian terms as an emanation, degrees of perfection and imperfection.

Receive or Seek

In the early church, there was a contention between the more or less established church and the Montanist14 whether martyrdom should be received or sought. In many ways, it is a sheer Academic discussion, inasmuch as earthly regimes, in principle, are antagonistic to the Kingdom of God and when they are not hostile to religion, it is because the actual religion is not faithful to its own dogmatic and ethical standards, premises and preconditions. Using Math. 22,17ff. as a justiﬁ cation of a division of power between God and the Emperor breaks down on the explicit fact that the exclusive purpose of the Pharisees was to set a trap for Him. Christ was in no way compromising with the rulers and politicians of his time. Christians do not ever have to get in the way of their pagan surroundings before they resort to extreme violence. The peaceful theological refusal to accept the Roman emperor as their god sufﬁ ced more than plentifully to trigger off bloody persecutions within the early church. Numerous examples of similar measures can be detected in and collected from the history of the church. On February 7, 1945 communist partisans forced their way into a Herzegovinian monastery, consisting of 30 Franciscan friars. Cursing

14 Christian Movement in the second half of the fi rst century unsatisfactory with the indulgence and adaptability of the “offi cial” church. 112 arne munk and swearing the intruders shouted: “God is dead. There is no God. No pope. No church. You are of no use. Out to work!” In a furious rage, one of them seized the crucifi x and fl ung it to the ground: “You have got the choice between life and death.” The monks kneeled, clasping the crucifi x to their breasts and pronouncing the confession of the founder of the order of Francis: “You are my God and my All.” Infuriated, the Communist partisans dragged the monks outside, killed them and poured petrol over them. Before dying, they prayed and sang like their fellow-sufferers of the Early Church. Modern paganism in one of its many abstruse versions thereafter set out to the town Mostar in which in addition seven other monks—help- lessly tied and bound—were thrown into the Neretua River (Zovko 2006). These Christians were killed simply because of their presence. That was their provocation. Others have been similarly killed, solely owing to their existence. When I established a grove for more than 500,000 aborted human beings in Denmark together with some friends in accordance with our civil rights, this was banned as an ill-timed provocation and the Danish authorities tried to get rid of it with all juridical manipulations. Vandalism was a recurrent problem. I was amazed. How could people to such a degree go blinded? To such a degree twist and turn the whole matter? Was not the killing of thousands upon thousands of innocent children a provocation far beyond our modest demonstration?

Conclusion

What I have been saying until now may be regarded as refl ections, deliberations, suggestions and indications, now calling for some sort of a conclusion. If I were to classify this paper, I should denominate it A Theologi- cal Treatise, more than a political response. Jesus Christ is the alleged principal character. He is the yardstick of Kaj Munk’s evaluation of the ethical standard of his society as he experienced it in the fi rst half of the previous century. How important the issue of Christology is, how urgent a thorough elucidation of and an investigation into Kaj Munk’s perception of the essence and core of Christianity is for the justifi cation and acceptance of his alleged martyrdom goes almost without saying. In the vital and kaj munk and resistance 113 overriding search for truth, which is an obligation to all sincere believers, we are obliged to reach out for such a clarifi cation. In all matters of faith, we might be victims of a delusion. Kaj Munk himself might have been a victim of a delusion, believing that he pursued goals that he, in fact, did not pursue. He might, furthermore, have been wrong in his interpretation of his sacrifi ce as martyrdom. His apparently clear-cut distinction of what damaged his nation’s relationship to Germany and to the Lord Jesus Christ may rest on a misjudgement. The reason for an acknowledgement of martyrdom is not that a person considers himself a martyr, or that his surroundings support this assumption to a certain extent. Not even that the church conveys this distinction upon him. Besides the issue of Christology and even Pneumatology (Kaj Munk prophetically considered himself, momentarily and sporadically, under the infl uence of the Holy Spirit) Kaj Munk’s notion of the nature of the Kingdom of God, the will of God and the nature of worldly regimes is of equal and related importance, the Kingdom of God which according to the Lord’s Prayer should be fulfi lled in earth as it is in Heaven. Christian Eisenberg, a German Doctor of Divinity vigorously emphasizes that Kaj Munk sich vor allem gegen die Tendenz wendet die Forderung der Bergpredigt als utopisch anzusehen. Nach Munk will Jesus nicht Objekt des Glaubens oder Gegenstand individueller Frömmigkeit sein, sondern er will den Willen seines Vaters verkünden und seine Nachfolge berufen. . . . Auch wenn die Gemeinde durch die Bergpredigt immer wieder blossgestellt wird—für Munk gelten die Worte in einem unmittelbaren Sinn . . . Jesu Worte wollen nichts weniger als Gottes Rechtsordnung verkünden und zum Kampf für das Reich der Liebe auf dieser Welt des Hasses rufen (Eisenberg 1980). The assignment is that this ‘Rechtsordnung Gottes’ in Heaven, unlimited and unrestricted, should be also enforced on earth. To the best of Kaj Munk’s ability, he did not detect this enforcement in the politics and practice of the fi rst half of the 20th century of his country and neighbouring countries. Were there any signs that Den- mark, by chance, had made Jesus king as he had proposed as a young theological student? And how were the prospects for a false alarm for his foreboding at the same time: “Everybody who has lost the Spirit of God has to die; because in the Spirit of God there is life?” The validity of Kaj Munk’s struggle and martyrdom, when all is said and done, is a matter between him and his Saviour, a confrontation he both feared and confi ded in. 114 arne munk

If I should be judged of you, or of man’s judgment . . . until the Lord comes, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and will make mankind manifest the counsels of the hearts. . . . (1 Cor. 4,5) As maintained by a Dutch pastor: A Central idea in Kaj Munk’s dramatic production is the clash between this ‘Rechtsordnung Gottes’ and the ‘Eigengesetzlichkeit des Staates’, in my opinion an important remark to Hegels’s fatal idolization of the state as the concretization of ‘bonum optimum’.15 The general attitude in this country is that Kaj Munk was a poor theologian. A great many, especially Dutchmen, do not share this view, but also a German repudiates this superﬁ cial judgement. One of the most peculiar experiences I ever had was when Christian Eisenberg gave a lecture on Kaj Munk and Bonhoeffer at the Theo- logical Faculty in Copenhagen in front of a sizeable audience. To the surprise and incredulity of the audience he assured that Kaj Munk easily met the requirements.

The Kingdom is Entrusted to Us

In as much as martyrdom can be considered a sacrament, a gift of the Holy Spirit to the church, a tool to the spreading and growth of the Kingdom of God, it is, necessarily, in its exclusiveness and radicalism a stumbling-block, a process of selection, elimination, expulsion, an admonition that Christianity on your own terms is a problematic, if not an unacceptable affair, anyhow in a broader sense.16 Was not Jägerstätter’s message, if you go straight to the point, a demonstration that aggression, conquest and military expansion are incompatible with the Kingdom of God and by taking part in such activities, you have in reality excluded yourself from a Christian community, and not just a formal question of the right of an individual to become a conscientious objector, refusing to join the armed forces on moral grounds?

15 During an improvised visit to my house. 16 “Persecutions do not diminish the church, indeed, they cause it to develop”, “The martyrs are a gift of God, an aid to our weakness, an example of virtue and support to our faith”, “Precious in the eyes of the Lord, is the death of his faithful” (Ps. 115,15) and no kind of cruelty can destroy a religion that is founded upon the mystery of the Cross of Christ.” (Pope Leo the Great [died 461]). kaj munk and resistance 115

Would not Romero’s fi ght against the exploitation of the ‘campesino’ imply the same self-elected, although not realized exclusion of the Kingdom of God, no matter which conclusion Romero for his own part arrived at? And Kaj Munk’s call to his fellow Christians in the Cathedral of Copenhagen to an insurrection against the anti-Semitic curse and plague was not that, in fact, an announcement that such a conduct by the perpetrators, in reality, excluded them from the Kingdom of God, no matter how little they themselves were inclined to consider their behaviour a crime? This is especially pertinent when you take the radicalism of Kaj Munk’s view on martyrdom into account. Although Karl Rahner emphasizes the immense values of martyrdom and its exceptional position as a sacrament it is of importance to him to articulate that martyrdom does not pertain to Fundamental Theology, but must be content with a corner in the Christian Creed. To Kaj Munk, martyrdom becomes, seemingly, more and more a cornerstone within the Christian Creed. On occasion, he might refer to martyrdom as an aristocratic element, a matter to which ordinary Christian people were not committed, but in the Cathedral in Copen- hagen, he almost inculcated martyrdom as a Christian duty, as a token of true loyalty to Christ. The incontestable decline and insignifi cance of the church, compared to the infl uence and power of the ideologies of his age, the “new religions” stem from the fact that the church has lost its second most precious jewel, the mental disposition of martyrdom. The most precious jewel is Christ himself. Christ and the sacrifi cial affection and loyalty to him are the complementary axis of Christianity. Kaj Munk could not escape the impression that to Paul and the fi rst Christians, Christ was the full, alive and kicking reality. A storm of disasters had been the price of their loyalty to Him. Although Christ must have foreseen these consequences he had, nevertheless, the courage to infl ict these sufferings upon them. Nowadays you may come across people who profess: I am not afraid of running a risk, but doing so it may have consequences for others and so I do not do it for the sake of these others. Christ was a warrior, he was in the front row, but he did not shrink back from dragging his men into situations where death, agony, mutilation was the hero’s reward, and they followed Him without hesitation. Proud. Rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name (Munk 1948d, 351). as it says in Acts chapter 5. 116 arne munk

Kaj Munk, in fact, addresses one and each in the cathedral with a general claim: Oh, my Christian friends that is our destiny. Not for my own beneﬁ t. Not to get hold of a seat in the stalls of Heaven, but because we belong to Christ, no matter how half-hearted and sleepy we are. We are Christians. That means that the Kingdom is entrusted to us.17

References

Bay-Petersen, Hans. 2003. En selskabelig invitation (A Social Invitation). Multivers. Bjarke, Ragnhild. 1946. “Jacobskampen”. Bogen om Kaj Munk: Skrevet af hans Venner. 107–28. København: Westermann. Eisenberg, Christian. 1980. “Die politische Predigt Kaj Munks”. Europäische Hochschul- schriften. Frankfurt: Peter D. Lang. ——. 1994. “Kaj Munk, Danish Martyr”. Lutheran Quarterly. Volume VIII Number 4, Winter 1994. Gutcheon, Beth. 2005. Leeway Cottage. William Morrow. Henningsen, Poul. 1933. Kulturkritik II (Cultural Criticism II). Copenhagen. Hunø, L.M. 1946. “Drengen, Vennen”. Bogen om Kaj Munk: Skrevet af hans Venner. 51–62. København: Westermann. Jacobsen, Erik Thostrup. 1991. Som om intet var hændt (As if Nothing Had Happened): Den danske kirke under besættelsen (The Danish Church During the Occupation), Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag. Keigwin, R.P. 1964. Five Plays by Kaj Munk: Translated from the Danish by R.P. Keigwin. New York: The American-Scandinavian Foundation, København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag Arnold Busck. Mathiasen, Helle. 1997. “The Spiritual Resistance of Kaj Munk”. In Resisters, Rescuers and Refugees. Kansas City.

17 A deifi cation of a historically conditioned constitution (like any other human activity) as e.g. Desmond Tutu seems liable to propose, would be an offence against the First Commandment of the Decalogue. Violations of Human Rights are not just confi ned to specifi c conceptions of the state. Pope John Paul in his last book “Memory and Identity” calls attention to the fact that democratically elected parliaments by law have fi xed the extermination of innocent unborn human beings, although they on paper stand up for progress for society and humanity. “It is legitimate and imperative to ask oneself, if this perpetration does not originate from the ideology of evil which, possibly, more creeping and latent try to play off Human Rights against the family and humanity itself.” (p. 37) Christianity had outlived about 2000 years under different conceptions of state with varied receptiveness for its preaching and message. “A tree is known by its fruits” (Matt. 12,33). More essential than the label are the contents. If the formula “vox populi, vox dei” lays down an identity between a mandatory referendum and the will of God Kaj Munk would have had his strong reservations. A democratic, parliamentary social order was no less a product of the original sin than any other form of government. Considering the weight Kaj Munk attached to the dependence on the immediate authority of Christ and on his message any earthly constitutional factor in the relationship between Christ and his followers was of minor importance. kaj munk and resistance 117

Michelsen, Birgit. 2007. “Brev hjem fra Birgit”. Munkiana. 35, 18. Lemvig. Munk, Kaj. 1936. Sejren: et Skuespil om Verden i Dag. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag— Arnold Busck. ——. 1937. Selvtægt (Taking the Law into One’s Hands). Unpublished manuscript, not complete. 39 handwritten pages. The Kaj Munk Research Center catalog 20.12.01. Aalborg University. ——. 1939a. Fugl Fønix (The Bird Phoenix). København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1939b. “Ved Fejghed opnaas intet” (“Nothing is Achieved by Cowardice”), Jylland - posten January 29. ——. 1942. Foraaret saa sagte kommer. København: Westermann. ——. 1947. Alverdens-Urostifterne: Efterladt ufuldendt Skuespil om Paulus. Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1948a. Mindeudgave: Cant og andre Skuespil. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1948b. Mindeudgave: En Digters Vej og andre Artikler. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun-Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1948c. Mindeudgave: Kærlighed og andre Skuespil. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1948d. Mindeudgave: Prædikener. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun-Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1949a. Mindeudgave: Dagen er inde og andre Artikler. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1949b. Mindeudgave: Digte. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun-Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1949c. Mindeudgave: Egelykke og andre Skuespil. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1949d. Mindeudgave: Foraaret saa sagte kommer. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1949e. Mindeudgave: Pilatus og andre Skuespil. Niels Nøjgaard and Knud Bruun- Rasmussen, eds. København: Nyt Nordisk Forlag—Arnold Busck. ——. 1984. Præsten og Studenten. Lise Munk, pub. Holstebro: Johansens Bogtrykkeri. ——. 1989. Gud og Paragrafferne: Kaj Munks dagbog 1. januar til 7. februar 1936. Lise Munk pub. Holstebro: Johansens Bogtryk. ——. 2005. Ordet II. En almankhistorie: Skuespil i syv akter. Bindslev. Møller, Per Stig. 2000. Munk. København: Gyldendal—Nordisk Forlag A/S. Nielsen Brovst, Bjarne. 1984. Kaj Munk—Liv og død (Kaj Munk—Life and Death), Århus: Centrum. ——. 1993. Kaj Munk—Krigen og mordet (Kaj Munk—The War and the Murder), Århus: Centrum 1993 Pedersen, Jan. 2004. Martyren Kaj Munk lever. Oslo: Lunde. Rahner, Karl. 1958. Zur Theologie des Todes. Freiburg. Sørensen, Arne. 1946. Kaj Munk—som vi kendte ham, (Kaj Munk as we knew him). Part of book. Niels Jagd Ottosen, ed. København: E. Zinglersens Forlag. Winkler, Johan. 1950. Kaj Munk—Domiee / Dichter / Martelaar. ’S-Gravenhage: D.A. Daamen’s Uitgeversmaatschappij N.V. Zovko, Jozo, o.f.m. 2006. Novena to the Siroki Brijec Martyrs. Bosnia-Herzegovina.

CHAPTER FIVE

HENNING VON TRESCKOW: A CHRISTIAN MOTIVE FOR KILLING HITLER?∗

Annette Mertens

Henning von Tresckow (1901–1944) was born in Magdeburg, Prussia. His family was conservative, Protestant, and ‘Prussian to the core’. After his school years in Goslar, Tresckow volunteered for military service in World War I. In 1926, he returned to the Army after having studied law and political science and worked for a banking house in Berlin. Hitler’s rise to power accelerated Tresckow’s military career: His highest rank was that of a major general ( July 1st, 1944). In World War II, he served mainly on the Eastern Front and became witness of the mass murder of Jews and the civilian Soviet population. This made him join the resistance circle around Count von Stauffenberg. Tresckow participated in the conspiracy of July 20th, 1944, and the plans for the coup d’état. Tresckow, who was married and father of four children, was in Poland when he heard about the failure of the assassination attempt. He committed suicide to escape from the Gestapo.

Henning von Tresckow— symbol of ‘the other Germany’

The assassination must be attempted, at any cost. Even should that fail, the attempt to seize power in the capital must be undertaken. We must prove to the world and to future generations that the men of the Ger- man Resistance movement dared to take the decisive step and to hazard their lives upon it. Compared with this object, nothing else matters (Schlabrendorff 1947, 103). Henning von Tresckow committed suicide after he had been told that the assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler on July 20th, 1944, had failed. Tresckow had been one of the close conspirators around Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg who wanted to kill the dictator and take power from the National Socialists by a coup d’état. The attempt failed and ended in

* The author wishes to thank Felix Forster and Nadine Schulz for their help in translating the text into English. 120 annette mertens disaster for the conspirators. Tresckow had been aware of that risk and had accepted it from the beginning. By the words quoted above, which he is supposed to have said in June 1944, he had nevertheless given meaning to the undertaking. His words testify to his farsightedness and his sense of the historical importance of the conspiracy, and they are proof of Tresckow’s willingness to offer his services to a common cause, i.e. Germany’s image in the world, regardless of his own person. This attitude has made Tresckow one of the most prominent fi gures of the German resistance movement and a symbol of ‘the other Germany’, of the ‘conscience in revolt.’ 60 years after the war, Tresckow is still at the centre of attention not only of German historians, but also of a wider public. On the occasion of his 100th birthday in 2001, a commemorative book with texts and documents was published and printed in its third edition already in 2005 (Grabner and Röder 2005). In 2006, The Protestant Church in Germany published a voluminous catalogue of “Protestant Martyrs in the 20th Century”, which also contains an article about Henning von Tresckow, who is said to have lost his life in his struggle against National Socialism due to his Christian belief (Brakelmann 2006). In spite of the admiration bestowed on Tresckow, his character is no longer undisputed: the last four years have seen a heated debate about him, developed in the Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte (Hürter 2004; Ringshausen 2005; Römer 2005; Graml 2006; Hürter and Römer 2006). The central question was in how far the conspirators themselves were involved in the crimes of the National Socialist regime or at least knew about them. Before July 20th, 1944, Tresckow and other leading members of the Wehrmacht, the German Armed Forces, had witnessed the war on the Eastern Front and had been its very leaders. On the basis of military documents, it can be proved that a fairly long time before the assassination attempt, they were informed about the crimes that units of the Wehrmacht and the SS committed against the Soviet civilian population, especially against Jews and so-called partisans. This raises the question; which motivations were most decisive for the conspirators’ resistance—the National Socialist crimes or rather Germany’s threatening military defeat? The heat of the debate—not only among professional historians (Lahme 2006)—testifi es to the importance of the dispute: the core of the matter is not the analysis or interpretation of some particular historical documents, it is rather the aspect that the reputation of an identity and symbolic fi gure is at stake. henning von tresckow 121

Henning von Tresckow’s biography “Prussian to the core!”1—Tresckow’s life

Henning von Tresckow was born in Magdeburg on January 10th, 1901, and grew up in Wartenberg in the Neumark (eastern Brandenburg, today belonging to Poland).2 His family and the environment in which he grew up were marked “Prussian” through and through: many of his ancestors had been generals in the Prussian Armed Forces, and his mother’s father had been Prussian Minister of Education and Cultural Affairs.3 Tresckow adopted the conservative traditions and values of his family: for him, that meant above all “the obligation of truth, of internal and external discipline, of discharge of duties to the utmost.”4 To Tresckow, further components of these values were the love of nature and last but not least the Protestant confession. After his childhood on the Wartenberg estate and his school years in Goslar, Tresckow volunteered for military service in World War I and, in June 1918, became second lieutenant at the age of only 17. In 1920, he interrupted his military career to study law and political science in Kiel, and from 1923 to 1926, he worked for a banking house in Berlin. In 1924, he undertook a trip abroad lasting several months and leading him as far aﬁ eld as North and South America. However, these foreign experiences could only convince him all the more of Prussia’s merits: “Nothing could change inside of me the mind of a Prussian . . . I am what I was, I stay who I am,” he noted just before his return trip (Tresckow, E. v. 2005, 28). In 1926, Tresckow married Erika von Falkenhayn, a daughter of Erich von Falkenhayn, Minister of War and Chief of Staff in World War I, and had had four children with her by 1939. In the same year of 1926, Tresckow returned to the Army: in February, he reentered his former infantry regiment No. 9 in Potsdam. Potsdam, the capital of Prussia, shaped his life in the following years.

1 Boeselager 1990, 12. 2 For Tresckow’s biography see Scheurig 1973; Aretin 1984; Grabner 2005a. 3 Robert von Zedlitz-Trützschler (1837–1914, 1891–1892 Prussian minister of education and cultural affairs). 4 Tresckow in his speech at the conﬁ rmation of his sons Mark and Rüdiger, April 11th, 1943, (Grabner and Röder 2005, 49–53, quotation: 52). 122 annette mertens

Tresckow was too much infl uenced by Prussian conservatism to approve of the democracy of the Weimar Republic. So, at the beginning, Hitler’s way of thinking, accompanied by his publicly declared will to rearm Germany, held a certain attraction for him. He felt the “Day of Potsdam” on March 21st, 1933, when he marched past Hin- denburg, Hitler and Göring with his battalion, as an especially happy day in his life. Hitler’s politics of rearmament, and especially the war, accelerated Tresckow’s career in the Army. In May 1934, he was promoted to the rank of captain and began his education as a general staff offi cer at the war academy in Berlin-Moabit. In 1936, he took up offi ce in the general staff (which until 1938 was part of the Ministry of War) where he worked on the planning of the military build-up against Czechoslovakia. After his promotion to the rank of major, he was appointed company commander in East Prussia in 1939. In the campaign against Poland, Tresckow was at the head of the 228th infantry division as 1st general staff offi cer (Ia). At the end of October, 1939, he was appointed assistant to the 1st general staff offi cer of Army Group A, Senior General Gerd von Rundstedt, and participated in this function in the preparations for the campaign against France. After the successful ending of that campaign, Tresckow was appointed 1st general staff offi cer of Army Group B (from June 1941 on called “Army Group Center”) in December 1940 and kept this post until the summer of 1943. The military aim of this Army Group was to capture the city of Moscow. After the Soviet counter-attack, however, the main area of its operations was shifted to the southern part of the Eastern Front. After having spent the summer of 1943 in Berlin, Tresckow was given the command of a regiment (442nd grenadiers’ regiment) in the southern part of the Eastern Front. Only some weeks later, he was appointed chief of staff of the 2nd army operating on the south wing of the Army Group Center. On July 1st, 1944, he was promoted to the rank of major general.

“The leading conspirator”5— Tresckow in the resistance movement against Hitler

In spite of his enthusiasm for National Socialism at the beginning and his successful career in the Armed Forces, Tresckow did not ignore

5 Burleigh 2000, 704. henning von tresckow 123 the shady sides of Hitler’s regime. The murders after the supposed “Röhm revolt” in the summer of 1934 and the open violence against the Jewish population in the “Night of the Broken Glass” (Kristallnacht) in November 1938 shocked him and pushed him more and more into the opposition. From the fi rst day on, he thought that Hitler’s way of leading the war was a megalomaniac undertaking; it was only for a short time that the success of the campaign against France gave him cause for optimism. “I wish”, said Tresckow to one of his offi cers in December 1941, I could show a fi lm to the German people: Germany at the end of the war. Then people would recognize, totally terrifi ed, where we are going to. Then people would certainly share my opinion that the Supreme Commander must be relieved and disappear today rather than tomorrow (Scheurig 1973, 119). During his time in the general staff, Tresckow had got to know Erwin von Witzleben (1881–1944) (Mueller 1998a), the commander of Military District III Berlin, and knew from that time on that there was a military opposition against Hitler. Shocked by the dismissal of the Minister of War, Werner von Blomberg, and of the Supreme Commander of the Army, Werner von Fritsch, at the beginning of 1938, Tresckow had intended to tender his resignation from the Armed Forces. Witzleben, who himself later participated in the conspiracy of July 20th and several other actions of resistance, recognized a kindred spirit during his conversation with Tresckow and was able to convince him not to leave the Armed Forces. When rumours about an imminent war started in the summer of 1939, Tresckow tried to have a talk with lawyer Fabian von Schla- brendorff,6 who was known as an opponent of Hitler and who was in contact with some other members of the opposition (Schlabrendorff 1947, esp. chap. 1). Schlabrendorff was a cousin of Tresckow’s, but they had never met before. In their conversation in the summer of 1939, they talked about their plans to overthrow Hitler in a frank way for the fi rst time:

6 Fabian von Schlabrendorff (1907–1980): Lawyer (PhD) and barrister, 1941–1944 close cooperator to Tresckow and participator in several assassination and revolt attempts, after July 20th, 1944, imprisonment and torture by the Gestapo; his trial at the People’s Court could not be ﬁ nished due to the sudden death of its president Roland Freisler during a bomb attack; detention in several concentration camps, in April 1945 liberation by the Americans, after the war worked as a lawyer again, 1967–1975 judge at the Federal Constitutional Court. 124 annette mertens

Tresckow and I had a long and satisfactory discussion. It ended with the conclusion that both duty and honor demanded that we do our best to bring about the downfall of Hitler at the earliest possible moment, in order to save Germany and Europe from barbarism (Schlabrendorff 1947, 22). At the beginning of 1941, Tresckow, who meanwhile had become 1st general staff offi cer of the Army Group Center, proceeded to appoint Schlabrendorff as his aide. He became his closest ally in the opposition against Hitler and took direct part in the different attempts of assassination and revolt. The memoirs written by Schlabrendorff after the war are therefore one of the main sources for evidence of Tresckow’s resistance activities. Besides Schlabrendorff, Tresckow, in his function of 1st general staff offi cer of the Army Group Center, managed to rally other people with the same kind of interest by a calculated staff policy. Among them were Rudolf von Gersdorff (1905–1980) (Gersdorff 1977), who was appointed to 3rd general staff offi cer (Ic) in the headquarters of the Army Group Center, as well as Heinrich von Lehndorff (1909–1944), Hans von Hardenberg (1891–1958) (Agde 2004), and Berndt von Kleist who was to become an important fi gure for the contacts to resistance circles in Berlin. In his personnel policy, Tresckow could count on his relations to Rudolf Schmundt (1896–1944),7 a former regiment mate and friend of his who had been Hitler’s chief military aide-de-camp since 1938. In their majority, Tresckow’s allies comprised the lower offi cers’ ranks. Among the generals, it was more diffi cult to fi nd kindred spirits willing to participate in the planning of the revolt (Schieder 1985). Field Marshal General Günther von Kluge, chief commander of Army Group Center since 1941, remained an uncertain candidate in spite of Tresckow’s persistent attempts to convince him, even after having confessed in a theatrical way in March 1943: “Children, you’ve got me!” (Gersdorff 1977, 133)8 The generals Gerd von Rundstedt (1875–1953),9 Erich von Manstein (1887–1973),10 and Franz Halder (1884–1972)11 could not fi nally make up their minds to join the opposition either.

7 Schmundt was fatally injured during the attack on Hitler on July 20th, 1944. 8 For Kluge’s role see also Steinbach 2001, 318–343; Steinbach 1995; Mueller 1998b. 9 1941 chief commander of the Army Group South, 1942–1944 chief commander West. (Hürter 2006, 656–57). 10 1941 chief commander of the 11th army, 1942 chief commander of Army Group Don, later South. (Hürter 2006, 646–47). 11 1938–1942 chief of staff of the army. (Hartmann 1995; Ueberschär 1998). Halder henning von tresckow 125

The circle of resistance fi ghters round Henning von Tresckow was therefore limited to offi cers predominantly of younger age and situated below the leading military class. Their experiences in the war on the Eastern Front and behind the lines, the military setbacks of the German Armed Forces and the crimes that units of the SS and the Armed Forces committed against the Soviet civilian population, above all the mass murder of Jews and civilians in the course of the fi ght against ‘partisans’, confi rmed them in their plan to overthrow Hitler. In June 1941, the so-called ‘Commissar Order’ was published which assigned the Armed Forces on the Eastern Front not to treat Soviet ‘commissars’ like prisoners of war but to execute them immediately. This order was something like a blank cheque to murder Soviet civilians. Tresckow was shocked. “If we do not succeed [. . .] to get through the repeal of these orders”, he is supposed to have said to Gersdorff, the German people will be blamed for a guilt the world will not forget in hundreds of years. Not only Hitler, Himmler, Göring and their comrades will be blamed, but also you and me, your wife and my wife, your children and my children, the old lady entering the shop over there, the man passing on his bicycle, and the little child playing with a ball over there (Gersdorff 1977, 87; Scheurig 1973, 101). Another crucial experience was the massacre of Borissov in White Rus- sia where Latvian SS units murdered about 7,000 Jews in the summer of 1941 (Gersdorff 1977, 97–99). It was under the impression of this crime that Tresckow sent his aide Schlabrendorff to Berlin to fi nd out whether there were other groups of resistance fi ghters with whom one could get in touch. Schlabrendorff succeeded to establish relations with the chief of staff Ludwig Beck (1880–1944),12 Carl Goerdeler (1884–1945)13 as well as Ulrich von Hassell (1881–1944).14 However, his sounding out is supposed to have assured Tresckow “in tears” before the campaign against Russia “that he did not see a possibility of a coup d’état in the present situation of leadership.” (Scheurig 1973, 97–98). 12 1933 chief of the department of the Armed Forces (in 1935 renamed chief of staff in the Supreme Command of the Army), 1938 voluntary resignation, participation in the conspiracy of July 20th, 1944, execution in Berlin on the day of the assassination attempt. In case of a successful coup d’état, Beck had been envisaged to be the new head of state. 13 Lawyer and administration expert, 1930–1937 Lord Mayor of Leipzig, 1931 national commissioner for the control of prices, contacts to several resistance circles, plans for a political revolt and the building up of a new, national-conservative Germany; imprisonment and death sentence conferred in 1944, execution in 1945. 14 Diplomat, 1932–1938 Ambassador to Rome, in 1938 put on hold; go-between 126 annette mertens was mainly without result, it was only in the late autumn of 1942 that Tresckow and Goerdeler met each other face to face.15 For months, Tresckow experimented on different explosives and detonators for bombs brought to him by his collaborators (Gersdorff 1977, 119) and waited for an opportunity to assassinate Hitler. This chance came for the fi rst time in March 1943 when Hitler visited the headquarters of the Army Group Center (Schlabrendorff 1947, 49–62). Disguised as bottles of cognac, Tresckow sneaked two live bombs into Hitler’s airplane, but due to the cold, the detonators did not work. On the next day, Schlabrendorff could exchange the supposed bottles of cognac with real ones so that the attempted attack was not discovered. Another attempt followed that same month: on March 21st, Hitler held a speech ‘in commemoration of heroes’, and after that was supposed to visit an exhibition of captured Soviet weapons arranged by Gersdorff. Gersdorff was willing to blow up himself with Hitler in a suicide mission, but Hitler literally ran through the exhibition and spent so little time there that Gersdorff’s garnets, supplied with time fuses, did not explode in time (Gersdorff 1977, 128–33). After these two failed assassination attempts, Tresckow was transferred to Berlin in the summer of 1943 so that the headquarters of the Army Group Center could no longer serve as centre of the conspiracy. Tresckow used his time in Berlin to intensify his relations to Claus Schenk von Stauffenberg16 whom he had met for the fi rst time in White Russia in the summer of 1941 and who stayed in Berlin several times during the summer of 1943 after having been badly wounded in Tunisia. During that time, Stauffenberg and Tresckow prepared the coup d’état they wanted to carry out after a successful assassination attempt on Hitler. For that purpose, they fell back on operation plan “Valkyrie” and modifi ed its orders in a way that suited their aims. First, “Valkyrie” had been the code name for the regulation of the Armed Forces’ falling back on reserves in the Reich during the campaign against Russia. In July 1943, the plan was modifi ed and adapted to the combatting

Kreisau Circle and other resistance circles round Beck and Goerdeler; after July 20th, 1944, sentenced to death and execution (Hassell 1948). 15 Hans Mommsen doubts “whether there was more than a superfi cial exchange of thoughts about questions concerning constitution and society between Tresckow and Goerdeler.” (Mommsen 2000, 124). Bodo Scheurig, however, talks about an “inner elective affi nity” between them (Scheurig 1973, 131). In Hassell’s diaries of the years of 1938–1944, Tresckow is not mentioned at all. 16 Among the recent literature about Stauffenberg, see above all Hoffmann 1995—fi rst published in German in 1992; Ueberschär 2004. henning von tresckow 127 of inner disturbances. With the support of Tresckow’s wife Erika and secretaries Margarete von Oven and Ehrengard von Schulenburg who typed up the orders,17 Tresckow and Stauffenberg modifi ed the orders in a way that was supposed to create a possibility to take power from the National Socialists after Hitler’s assassination. In October 1943, the planning came to a standstill when Tresckow took over another regiment on the Eastern Front. Months passed without another opportunity to assassinate Hitler. The situation changed only when Stauffenberg was appointed temporarily chief of staff of the army reserve and therefore got access to Hitler’s direct surroundings. On July 20th, 1944, Stauffen- berg dared the assassination attempt, placing a briefcase with a bomb next to Hitler’s table in his quarters Wolfsschanze in East Prussia. Several persons were killed or injured by the attack, but Hitler himself was only mildly injured. The news of his survival also put an end to the plans of the coup d’état that had just begun. In the days and weeks after July 20th, many of the conspirators who had cooperated with Stauffenberg and Tresckow were arrested, tortured and executed. Stauffenberg himself was shot by order of court martial in the night of July 20th. At the time of the assassination attempt, Tresckow was in Poland with his staff. He was informed about the failure of the attempt already in the afternoon of July 20th, and after Hitler’s radio speech at night there was no more doubt that the news was correct. Tresckow had to fear that the Gestapo would determine his trail and he escaped from his impending arrest by committing suicide. He was afraid of not being able to resist Gestapo torture without revealing the other conspirators, and he wanted to prevent this in any way (Schlabrendorff 1947, 119). “Everybody will now turn upon us and cover us with abuse”, he predicted to Fabian von Schlabrendorff a short time before his death, but my conviction remains unshaken—we have done the right thing. Hitler is not only the archenemy of Germany, he is the archenemy of the whole world. In a few hours’ time I shall be before God, answering for my actions and for my omissions, and I shall uphold with a clear conscience all that I have done in the fi ght against Hitler. God promised to Abraham to spare Sodom should there be found ten just men in the city (Gen 18, 16–32). He will, I trust, spare Germany for our sake, and not destroy her. [. . .] A man’s moral value begins only when he is prepared to sacrifi ce his life for his convictions (Schlabrendorff 1947, 120).

17 For the role of the ‘women of July 20th, 1944’, see Ueberschär 2004, 100–110— especially 107. 128 annette mertens

On the morning of July 21st, 1944, Tresckow went to the frontline and blew himself up with a hand grenade. He wanted to disguise his suicide as a partisans’ attack but his persecutors found out the real circumstances of his death and ordered Tresckow’s body, which ﬁ rst had been transferred to Wartenberg, to be burned. His wife Erika was arrested and kept in prison by the Gestapo for seven weeks, and his daughters sent to a children’s home.

Hero, accomplice, martyr—opinions about Henning von Tresckow

“A great man!”18—Tresckow in the opinion of his companions Henning von Tresckow was an unusual man, lavishly equipped by nature with gifts of body and mind, of a deep soul, a fi rm way of thinking and a will of iron. A man created for fulfi lling great things—for those who knew him better, a hope for the fatherland. A noble body, with bright, intelligent and at the same time kind eyes, his outward appearances refl ected his inner being. Very enthusiastic about things, of an ardent patriotism, he possessed the ambition of performance, not of position. His keen intellect, his exact opinions about persons and things, together with his huge power of work enabled him to achieve extraordinary per- formances. Nobody who met him could escape from the overwhelming infl uence of his personality. Strict with himself, mild with others, he won everybody’s hearts, his comrades’ and subordinates’ love as well as his superiors’ respect (Eulenburg-Wickert 2005, 54). You could think it was a medieval chronicler’s characterization of some king or emperor when you read this judgement about Tresckow by the commander of his regiment in World War I, the Count of Eulenburg. This characterization is taken from a letter to Tresckow’s widow Erika from 1948. The Count of Eulenburg was not alone in his opinion. Nearly all descriptions of Tresckow in his companions’ memoirs contain traits of deep admiration: Nobody who knew Henning von Tresckow could escape from the infl u- ence of his extraordinarily strong personality. Like nobody else, he united great military abilities with an extraordinary political sense [. . . ]. We younger soldiers respected and admired him as an older comrade who

18 Boeselager 1990, 12. henning von tresckow 129

also had a heart and mind for the worries of everyone’s home—and how seldom was that! (Breitenbuch 2005, 60).19 Every day, I looked forward to meeting him. With only a few sentences, he was able to explain the events of the world. [. . .] Modest, hard-working and very intelligent, friendly to everybody. [. . .] I thank God to have met that man (Boeselager 2005). Tresckow had three qualities often found separately but seldom together: he was upright, able, and hard-working. His noble spirit, his acute understanding, and his capacity for intensive work compelled the admiration of those who knew him (Schlabrendorff 1947, 29). I have got to know a lot of outstanding persons in my life, but until today I have not met anybody who could compare himself with Henning von Tresckow’s intellectual substance and force of character (Gersdorff 1977, 94). Critical opinions about Tresckow can only be found in the Gestapo’s interrogations of the conspirators after July 20th, 1944. For example, Schlabrendorff said about his former superior: It was common practice to complain about Tresckow as he was thought to be very ambitious and too toady to his superiors. Personally, I felt that he was a careerist ( Jacobsen 1984, 477–80, quotation: 478, 368).20 Such critical statements, made under the pressure of the Gestapo’s torture, fell into oblivion after the war. Tresckow’s image was rather marked by the bright colours with which his companions had portrayed him. His suicide in a hopeless situation made him look even more like a tragic hero. Some of the quoted memoirs of Tresckow’s companions regarding Tresckow himself were already published in the ﬁ rst postwar years. It is typical of the reception of resistance in Germany that it was initially the resistance ﬁ ghters themselves who wanted to enlighten people by the publication of their memoirs. Besides Schlabrendorff and others, Ulrich von Hassell’s diaries may be quoted here as well.21

19 Breitenbuch was Günther von Kluge’s aide since the spring of 1942. 20 Quoted from a letter by the Chief of Security Police and Security Service, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, to Reichsleiter Martin Bormann, November 2nd, 1944. 21 The diaries were ﬁ rst published in German in 1946 by Hassell’s widow Ilse. Another report of memoirs was published by H.-B. Gisevius. To the bitter end (1948). 130 annette mertens

Immediately after the war, acknowledgement of the resistance was not in great demand in Germany. On the one hand this was due to the information policy of the Allies who made the activities of ‘the other Germany’22 a taboo subject,23 and on the other hand due to the Germans’ own attitude. They were not very interested in acknowledging the resistance either, because it might have demonstrated alternative ways of behaviour in contrast to the passivity of most of the German people under the Nazi government. The extreme right even attempted to accuse the conspirators of July 20th of high treason (Steinbach 1994, 89–90). It is signifi cant that one of the fi rst books about the resistance, emigrant Hans Rothfels’ report about “The German Opposition to Hitler”, was fi rst published in English in America in 1948 (Rothfels 1948).24 These early works about resistance already focussed on the military opposition against Hitler and the conspiracy of July 20th. Due to its exceptional radicalism and its relatively good chances of success, the revolt attempt of the group round Stauffenberg and Tresckow became a symbol of resistance in general. After years of silence, the conspiracy was used more and more as a political instrument in the 1950’s and 1960’s, during the Cold War: The Christian Democrat Federal Government projected its own traditions onto the conservative and church resistance which it interpreted as a struggle for a free democratic political system (Brockhausen 2005, 211–15). By this, the conspirators of July 20th had been given the function of creating identities. In his speech on the 10th anniversary of July 20th, 1944, Federal President Theodor Heuss avowed publicly in front of students of Berlin’s Free University the conspirators’ “inner motivations” and talked about the “legacy given to our nation’s life by their proud dying” (Heuss 1960, 533, 545).25 In the same year of 1954, Annedore Leber, the widow of the socialist Julius Leber who had been murdered by the National Socialists in

22 Vom anderen Deutschland is the subtitle of the German edition of Hassell’s diaries. 23 For the reception of July 20th, 1944, see Ueberschär 1994; Steinbach 1994. See also H. Rothfels (1948, 160–61), for the harsh criticisms of the assassination attempt of July 20th, 1944, in American newspapers. See also L. Kettenacker (1994). 24 See the preface of the German edition. Among the early works about resistance, there was also R. Pechel’s. Deutscher Widerstand. (1947). 25 Joachim Fest called an article about Tresckow still in 2001 “Das tragische Ver- mächtnis” (“The tragic legacy.”) (Fest 2005). See also Steinbach 2001, 349. henning von tresckow 131

1945, published a commemorative book about the resistance ﬁ ghters and chose the title “Conscience in Revolt.” (Leber 1957). Tresckow, Stauffenberg and the other conspirators were treated more and more like heroes: they incorporated ‘decent’ people’s conscience, considered in a sense of freedom and Christianity, and exemplary functions were attributed to their course of action. The treatment of resistance had developed an educational purpose.

Resistance in history

The academic research about the history of resistance began in Ger- many only in the 1960’s and was mainly increased after the conference of German historians (Historikertag) in 1978.26 In 1973, the “Research Community July 20th” (Forschungsgemeinschaft 20. Juli ) was founded (Are- tin 2004, 103–10). The new studies focussed on the motivations of the resistance fi ghters. Historians now looked at their personal development as a whole and got away from the former teleological perspective which had reduced the biographies of Hitler’s opponents to their activities in the resistance movement. It became clear now that many of them had followed twisted roads before they joined the resistance movement. The former monolithic concept of resistance was replaced by a rather ‘dynamic’ concept (Ueberschär 1994, 104). Due to the importance historians attached to the conspiracy of July 20th, 1944, there was an exceptionally high number of biographical works about individual members of that conspiracy (Ueberschär 1994, 104, note 57). Besides that, further memoirs of conspirators were published, such as Gersdorff’s report called Soldier in the downfall in 1977 or Philipp von Boeselager’s memoirs published as late as 1990 and taking up the tradition of hero worship of the fi rst post-war years. The only biography we have so far about Henning von Tresckow was already published in 1973 by historian Bodo Scheurig, who also worked on several other members, besides Tresckow, of the military opposition against Hitler (Scheurig 1964; 1968; 1969). His biography about Tresckow was last published in 2004 in a new (but nearly unchanged) edition and has fundamentally infl uenced Tresckow’s historical image due to the lack of more recent biographical works (Achmann and Bühl

26 The standard work by P. Hoffmann. History of the German resistance, is a result of this more academic debate (Hoffmann 1996). 132 annette mertens

1999, 185–202; Aretin 1984; Aretin 2005). Unfortunately, Scheurig refers nearly exclusively to the opinions of Tresckow’s admirers. He does not withhold Tresckow’s initial enthusiasm about National Social- ism, but all in all he presents—full of sympathy for his protagonist—a Henning von Tresckow decent to the core, strong in character, a man of principle, loved by everybody. Surrounding that hero there is supposed to have been no lack of persuaded opponents to Hitler in the German Armed Forces. However, certain excessively positive character- izations make the reader hesitate: when even SS-group leader Arthur Nebe, who was executed in March 1945 for his participation in the conspiracy against Hitler, but who was also responsible, as commander of a task force in Russia, for the murder of more than 45,000 Jews, is still characterized as a “stanch Anti-Nazi” in the retrospective,27 it becomes evident that Scheurig sometimes lacks the necessary distance to the subject of his study. A look at Scheurig’s sources can explain this fact: For the chapters about Tresckow’s youth and private life, he draws mainly upon what Tresckow’s widow Erika told him,28 and for the description of Tresckow’s activities in the Armed Forces upon Fabian von Schlabrendorff’s memoirs. Their opinions are adopted for the most part unquestioned. The personal relations between Tresckow and his wife and aide, however, do not guarantee the reliability or objectivity of their statements. Regard- ing her husband’s youth and early adult years, Erika von Tresckow was only able to tell what she had learned from himself or his family’s accounts. Apart from that, Erika von Tresckow’s perspective is that of a widow talking about the man she loved and who lost his life in his struggle against a criminal regime—her tendency to worship him like a hero is consequently highly understandable. The same goes for Fabian von Schlabrendorff who risked his life several times after he had devoted himself to the common cause with Tresckow, and who had been tortured very cruelly and had survived

27 B. Scheurig Tresckow (1973, 103). Even in the latest edition of his biography (2004), Scheurig did not modify this characterization (p. 117). It goes back to F. v. Schlabrendorff. They almost killed Hitler (1947, 37). Also Gersdorff, in his report published in 1977, wrote “that Nebe was a decided opponent of the National Socialist regime, an internationally well-known criminalist and a decent man.” (Gersdorff 1977, 85). For Nebe see P. Black. “Arthur Nebe.” (Black 2000). 28 Erika von Tresckow’s memoirs were published in 2001. The nearly literal correspondence of whole passages in Erika von Tresckow’s and Scheurig’s texts prove to what extent Scheurig drew upon the report of Tresckow’s widow. henning von tresckow 133 the Third Reich only due to some lucky coincidences. His report was written under the immediate infl uence of persecution and is marked not least by the author’s will to make sense out of what he had experienced. Besides that, his memoirs are limited to the description of Tresckow’s activities in the resistance. The everyday military life and anything Tresckow did and saw, other than planning the conspiracy, is faded out in Schlabrendorff’s report as well as in more recent memoirs of other members of the opposition.29 The same goes for the other witnesses’ accounts about Tresckow: they are either written by persons who had a very close relationship to him,30 or by persons who held very positive memories of him and who were not least interested in demonstrating their attachment to a respected resistance fi ghter.31 Records indicate several quotations of Tresckow’s, fraught with signifi cance, that are quoted again and again—some of them also in this article. It cannot be proved any more, however, if Tresckow really said these words or if they were attributed to him in the memory of his companions (Steinbach 1994, 89). Nevertheless, historians must draw upon that sort of tradition because Tresckow has hardly left any notes of his own.32 For very understandable reasons, he did not write down anything about the motivations of his oppositional attitude and his plans for the revolt, not even in private letters or diaries. Due to his early death, there are no restrospective statements by him either, but only those of the other conspirators in their interrogations by the

29 E.g. R. Chr. v. Gersdorff. Soldat im Untergang (1977), and Ph. v. Boeselager. Wi- derstand in der Heeresgruppe Mitte (1990). Apart from that, Peter Steinbach remarked that Schlabrendorff’s report was modifi ed from edition to edition: P. Steinbach. Widerstand im Widerstreit: (2001, 350). The judgement of its trusthworthiness is all the more diffi cult due to this. 30 See e.g. S. Grabner and H. Röder. “Gespräch mit Uta von Aretin” (Conversa- tion with Uta von Aretin, Tresckow’s youngest daughter). (Grabner and Röder 2005, 65–78). 31 See the following articles in S. Grabner/H. Röder. Tresckow (Grabner and Röder 2005): Graf zu Eulenburg. “Brief an Erika von Tresckow vom 22. Januar 1948” (letter to Erika von Tresckow, January 22nd, 1948): 54; Xaver Heim. “Brief an Uta von Aretin vom 30. Juli 1987” (letter to Uta von Aretin, July 30th, 1987): 55–56. (Heim had been in service as a communication engineer in Tresckow’s unit in World War II); E. v. Breitenbuch. “Generalmajor von Tresckow”: 57–60. 32 In Sigrid Grabner’s and Henrik Röder’s commemorative book (2005) only some short diary extracts from 1920 and Tresckow’s speech on his sons’ confi rmation day could be printed—faute de mieux. So the subtitle “texts and documents” cannot really keep its promises. For the methodical problems see P. Steinbach. Widerstand im Wider- streit. (2001, 349). 134 annette mertens

Gestapo, in which Tresckow is said to have been the leading conspirator ( Jacobsen 1984, 368, 399–401). So Tresckow’s bright image had remained mainly unchanged for decades. Beginning in the 1980’s, and more commonly in the 1990’s, younger historians dared to shake the monument, and reactions were even more vehement than previously. For the fi rst time, Tresckow’s motivations for his participation in the resistance were analysed criti- cally, and new works focussed on his everyday life as a high-ranking offi cer during the war on the Eastern Front instead of his part in the different assassination attempts and conspiracies against Hitler. These historians came to conclusions which dared to add some darker sides to the image of the glorious hero.33 In the middle of the 1990’s, an exhibition of the Institute for Social Science in Hamburg (Hamburger Institut für Sozialforschung) caused an embittered historical and political debate among the German public: the thesis represented in the exhibition called “War of Extermina- tion” was that the German Armed Forces had fought a substantially criminal war in the east and that the supposed difference between the criminal SS-troups and the ‘decent’ Armed Forces that had ‘only’ been at war, was incorrect. The public outcry was even stronger as it could be shown that its authors had sometimes dealt with the photos supposed to prove their theory in a very uncritical way. The exhibition was accompanied by an intensifi ed historical research about the war in the east (Hartmann, Hürter, and Jureit, 2005), and for the fi rst time, historians used contemporary military documents instead of the participants’ memoirs to analyse the conspirators’ activities before July 20th, 1944. On the basis of reports sent to Rudolf von Gersdorff by members of Task Force B (whose commander was Arthur Nebe), Christian Gerlach was able to prove that Gersdorff and Tresckow had been informed about the murders committed by that Task Force since the beginning of summer of 1941 (Gerlach 2000, 129). According to Gerlach, the fi ghting of the so-called partisans was increasing under Tresckow’s command instead of diminishing (Gerlach 2000, 134–37).

33 First of all the conspirators’ relations to the Jews were brought into question by Chr. Dipper. “Der deutsche Widerstand und die Juden” (1983). Dipper stated that the persecution of the Jewish population had only been a subordinate motivation for the resistance against Hitler. It was nevertheless Stauffenberg and Tresckow whom he believed most to have let themselves be guided in their resistance acts by the crimes committed against the Jews (360), but due to the lack of documents, he could deal only in passing with them. henning von tresckow 135

Without denying Tresckow’s and others’ achievements in resistance as such, Gerlach prompted the question: “Restistance—to what?” (Gerlach 2000, 139). Gerlach later extended his research and was able to prove that Tresckow’s protests against the ‘commissar order’ had been less decided than it had been reported by his companions, and he observed something like ‘selective moral standards’ among Hitler’s opponents (Gerlach 2000, 67–68): the mass murder of Jews troubled them more than the murder of supposed partisans (among whom, though, were also women and children) whom Tresckow is supposed to have fought by the creation of ‘dead zones’. The resistance ﬁ ghters’ main motivation however was, according to Gerlach, to try to preserve German interests—whatever they were thought to be—and win (or at least not lose) the war, possibly ‘better’ than Hitler and his followers (Gerlach 2000, 139). Gerlach had violated a taboo with his critical questions and earned vehement protests: Tresckow’s defenders vowed that it was exclusively the murder of the Jews which had made Tresckow plan the revolt. At the time when he had sent Schlabrendorff to Berlin for exploratory talks (September 1941), the army is said to have swept from one victory to the next: For searching contacts with other resistance circles in Berlin in September 1941, there was no other reason than the news of the murder of Jews by Task Force B (Aretin 2005, 126).34 Nevertheless, important parts of Gerlach’s theories were conﬁ rmed later by other highly acclaimed historians like Hans Mommsen: The thoughts of men like Tresckow and Stauffenberg focussed above all on the preservation of the army and on the prevention of a disastrous military defeat (Mommsen 2000, 125). In stating this, Mommsen had no doubts that another motivation of resistance had been “the moral indignation about the regime’s crimes.” (Mommsen 2000, 124). Subsequently, the debate concentrated on the question of whether it was a military motivation or a moral one that had been decisive for Tresckow’s and others’ resistance. A central importance was attached

34 K. O. v. Aretin has married Tresckow’s youngest daughter Uta, i.e. he is Tresckow’s son-in-law but without having met his father-in-law. 136 annette mertens to the chronological order of events and decisions, but the exchange of arguments was more and more superimposed by political considerations: basically, the preservation or destruction of Tresckow’s and the other conspirators’ exemplary functions was at stake. The degree in which the questioning of a traditional historical image can cause protests, even among outstanding historians, is demonstrated by the sharpening of the debate about Henning von Tresckow among the staff of the Institute for Contemporary History in Munich among whose founders was also Hans Rothfels in 1949 (Möller and Wengst 1999). This debate has been discussed thoroughly since 2004 in the Viertel- jahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte. On the basis of documents he had found in the central archives of the Federal Representative for the Documents of the State Security Service of the former GDR (the Stasi ), but also of a critical analysis of Rudolf von Gersdorff’s memoirs, Johannes Hürter, in an article from 2004, presented some theories that questioned the hero worship of Tresckow: according to Hürter, Tresckow’s protest against the criminal orders during the campaign in the east was due to his worries about the troop’s discipline rather than for moral considerations. Apart from that, it may be supposed “that the resignation about Hitler’s military mistake”—i.e. the transfer of the main area of operation to the south instead of an attack against Moscow—“was a catalyst for the development of offi cers who were critical about the regime into resistance fi ghters.” (Hürter 2004, 529, 544; 2006, 524–25, 533, 550, 563). The Borissov massacre in October 1941 is certainly said to have been another ‘beacon’, but Hürter talks about a “delayed start off of moral standards.” (Hürter 2004, 549). In the following Vierteljahrsheft ( January 2005) Gerhard Ringshausen replied to Hürter’s theory and accused his colleague for his inadequate treatment of sources. According to Ringshausen, Tresckow’s initials found on reports about mass crimes did not prove that Tresckow had actually read them. Apart from that, the beginning of Tresckow’s resistance activities dated from as early as 1940 (Ringshausen 2005). In the following issue, Felix Römer in turn took the side of his colleague Hürter and pointed out some contradictions in Ringshausen’s arguments. Above all, he complained about the “topic’s political overload” which made an objective debate even more diffi cult (Römer 2005, 451). In the Vierteljahrsheft of January 2006, Hermann Graml at last began to speak, a very merited historian belonging to the generation who had experienced the war and to the founders of the Institute for Contempo- rary History. Against his younger colleagues Hürter and Römer, Graml henning von tresckow 137 brought out the big guns. According to him, Hürter’s theories “fl oated in the air without fundamentals” and Römer as well as Hürter “trusted too much in the mere wording of military documents” (Graml 2006, 2 and 12). Graml vehemently defended the heroes of July 20th. For him, there is no doubt about the conspirators’ heroism, so that individual opposite observations are out of the question from the beginning: But if you consider Tresckow’s whole personality [. . .] the laws of psychology forbid the assumption that Tresckow and his friends would have accepted the executions of the Task Forces and some parts of the Armed Forces [. . .] with indifference (Graml 2006, 12). According to Graml, it must not be forgotten, that in treating the conspirators against Hitler, we are talking about an elite of intellect and character who did not only represent political interests and convictions, but even more [. . . ] the nation’s conscience (Graml 2006, 5). Graml expressed his main concern at the end of his article: Not without melancholy, it must be stated again and again that the conspirators of July 20th [. . .] still fi nd only a few persons’ full understanding (Graml 2006, 24). In a joint article, Hürter and Römer again answered Graml in the latest number of the Vierteljahrshefte, confi rmed their theories and vowed at the same time that they did not want to deny Tresckow’s achievements in the resistance as a whole (Hürter and Römer 2006)—one might wonder if the debate about the conspirators of July 20th will be continued. Graml’s words clearly show that the opponents in the debate about Tresckow do not fi ght on the same level: on the one side, there are those mostly younger historians who want to re-analyse individual aspects of Tresckow’s biography on the basis of documents, on the other side, there is a historical image, consolidated over decades, which seems not to depend on documents and does not accept any doubts about Tresckow’s heroism. A consensus or at least a compromise does not seem to be possible in this unequal dispute.

The return of the martyrs

Tresckow being worshipped as a hero and the results of academic historical research exist side by side today. Commemorative books are 138 annette mertens published as well as works about the crimes of the German Armed Forces on the Eastern Front. The individual point of view is not only a question of membership of a certain generation: as late as 2004, Tresckow’s granddaughter Felicitas von Aretin, a historian and journalist born in 1962, published a book about “The Grandchildren of July 20th” where she described the difﬁ cult situation of being the granddaughter of a hero of the family who is exposed to criticisms for his supposed atrocities in the Soviet Union (Aretin 2004, 12). The author describes in detail the difﬁ culties of the generations of children and grandchildren of integrating “their fathers’ unpleasant qualities” as well into their image of them (Aretin 2004, 189) and has to admit to herself that she lacks the “inner distance” in working on Tresckow (Aretin 2004, 12). Consequently, her discussion of the recent research about her grandfather consists only in a strict refusal of its results (Aretin 2004, 122). For his admirers and his descendants, Tresckow’s legacy still has a symbolic character; he has lost nothing of that status of a hero attached to him after the war: “For the ancient Greeks, this life would have been material for a great tragedy,” Sigrid Grabner pointed out in the commemorative book for Tresckow’s 100th anniversary in 2001 (Grabner 2005b)—and Felicitas von Aretin concurs in a strikingly parallel way: “The beginning however was the end—like in a greek tragedy.” (Aretin 2004, 8). The image of a tragic hero was consolidated most recently by an institution that had not shown too much interest in Tresckow until then: under the title “Look at their end”—a quotation from St. Paul’s Epistle to the Hebrews (Hebr 13,7)—the Protestant Church in Germany published, in 2006, a catalogue of Protestant Martyrs in the 20th Century. Among 492 martyrs who, above all, lost their lives during the different dictatorships of the last century there is also an article dedicated to Henning von Tresckow. A catalogue of Protestant martyrs may come as a surprise as a certain reserve of the worship of human beings is typical of Protestantism. As late as in the 1960’s, an initiative of the Lutheran Liturgical Confer- ence in Germany to create a commemorative day for the martyrs failed because the member churches of the Protestant Church in Germany were afraid that such a commemorative day might be misunderstood as worship of human beings (Kurschat 2006, 40–41). However, the great number of Protestant victims of religious persecutions in the henning von tresckow 139

20th century, and not at least the increased practice of memory in the Catholic Church since the last decade of the 20th century (Hummel 2004, 82–86), caused the will, also among German Protestants, to support the memory of the confessors (Kurschat 2006, 43). According to the Protestant concept of course, they are not ‘mediators to God,’ but only ‘examples of faith.’ (Hauschild 2006, 61–62). The Protestant catalogue of martyrs is based on a concept of martyrs interpreted in a wider sense;35 explicitly, persons are also included whose lives were not always sainted (Schultze 2006, 30–31). Persons are called martyrs, who suffered death because of their Christian confession, their ecclesiastical functions or because of their religiously motivated resistance against political injustices (Schultze 2006, 28). —this deﬁ nition includes persons persecuted not because of their faith in a narrow sense, but e.g. because of their political resistance due to Christian motivations. Also, persons are included who died as a consequence of imprisonment or torture (Schultze 2006, 29). In drawing up the catalogue, the authors, according to themselves, always wanted “to look at the martyr’s personality and his religious motivations” and not “conclude from his actions to the sign of the Kingdom of Heaven” in the sense of liberation theology (Schultze 2006, 29). How can we attach these criteria to the person of Henning von Tresckow? In contrast to Stauffenberg, Tresckow was not murdered by the National Socialists, but killed himself, and he is said to have done so because he worried that otherwise he might reveal the other conspirators’ names under Gestapo torture. In Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s sense, Tresckow’s death might be interpreted as ‘self-killing’, as a calculated sacriﬁ ce of his own life for other persons, and not as ‘self-murder’ that would have concerned only his own person (Bonhoeffer 1955, 122–28; Christ-Friedrich 2001, 448). Be that as it may, at the moment in question, the Gestapo had not even begun to pursue Tresckow. Could it be possible that fear and hopelessness were the reasons for Tresckow’s suicide, which even his granddaughter Felicitas von Aretin takes into account (Aretin 2004, 189–90)? In this case, his death could hardly be called a martyrdom.

35 Cfr. in contrast the criteria of the Catholic catalogue, in: H. Moll. Zeugen für Christus, vol. 1: XXXI–XXXIII. (Moll 2000). 140 annette mertens

What about his motivations? Tresckow had been baptized Protestant and had a church wedding, he sent his sons to confi rmation as late as in 1943, and he celebrated Christmas according to Christian traditions on the front with his soldiers although this was strictly forbidden. He even read the Gospel himself (Boeselager 1990, 13). He is supposed to have said to his wife in the spring of 1943: I don’t understand how people can call themselves Christians today who are not at the same time enraged opponents of this regime. A truly devoted Christian must be a devoted opponent! (Scheurig 1973, 147).36 In retrospect, Erika von Tresckow wrote that her husband had considered Christianity as “the foundation of our lives,” but she also has to admit that he had to “wrestle for the ultimate certainty of faith” (Tresckow 2005, 43). Tresckow’s companions, who all praise a long list of Tresckow’s positive qualities, remain strikingly silent about his religion or piety—with the one exception of Philipp von Boeselager who wrote about Tresckow from a distance of 45 years: “Christianity was a matter of course.” (Boeselager 1990, 13)—“In the end, his Christian conscience forced him to prepare the assassination attempt on Hitler.” (Boeselager 2005, 62–63). In the few reported declarations of Tresckow himself about the motivations of his resistance, references to Christianity are strikingly scarce as we fi nd them only in the quoted words he is supposed to have said to his wife. These words, however, were said in a conversation when Tresckow wanted to convince her of the correctness of his actions. She was “shocked when she learned about the assassination attempts of the last month,” but he wanted “that [his] wife agreed with [him]” (Scheurig 1973, 146–47). Could it be possible that it was a move of conviction rather than a confession of faith? These doubts are also based on some other quotations from Tresckow: he stated that he had to prove something “to the world and to future generations,” he mentioned the devastating destruction caused by the war, he talked about “duty and honor” that pushed him to resistance, but not about religious motivations. Even in his speech on his sons’ confi rmation day he talked more about “Prussia” than about God, more about “discipline” and the “discharge of duties” than about charity or fear of God. He pointed out of course that “you cannot separate from this Prussian and German mentality the Christian mentality” (Grabner

36 In her memoirs, Erika von Tresckow does not report these words. henning von tresckow 141 and Röder 2005, 49–53, quotation: 52). The order of the words seems not to be chosen by chance: the Christian mentality was ‘a matter of course’ for Tresckow, like Boeselager puts it, but fi rst came Prussia. As far as we know, his religion was marked by a certain outward appearance and formality. This observation marks the difference between Tresckow and other conspirators of July 20th, such as Helmut James von Moltke or Peter Yorck von Wartenburg, who grappled with their Christian faith and with God in an intensive and increasing way over the years and who motivated their resistance explicitly by their faith (Strohm 2006, 102–105).37 Also, in the reports about the conspirators that Ernst Kaltenbrunner, the Chief of Security Police and Security Service, sent to Hitler, there are lots of references to the conspirators’ religious commitments—but never concerning Tresckow.38 It is not for subsequent generations to judge Tresckow’s belief in God. It would be inappropriate as well to doubt his achievements in the resistance, but we have to doubt if the main motivation of his resistance was a Christian one. Martin Greschat, a German Protestant historian, has written about the motivations of resistance fi ghters: Standing up for one’s fellow human beings, the unquestioned commitment for another one’s rights and for humanitarianism in general are unalter- able elements of the Christian conviction. [. . .] Nevertheless, the reverse conclusion is not correct that there was a Christian motivation wherever human beings stood up for right, justice, freedom and humanitarianism. [. . .] There is no doubt that Christian motivations played an important role in the opposition of many people and in their political resistance against the national socialist regime. But even where this conviction was predominant, it was hardly ever the driving force behind all their actions (Greschat 2006, 46–47). Martin Greschat did not explicitly talk about Henning von Tresckow, but it seems that his analysis fi ts Tresckow’s case very well and that he presents a more objective look at history than the traditional historical image.

37 Tresckow is dealt with only in passing in this article. 38 It seems that not least, Tresckow himself contributed to his stylization as a Chris- tian resistance ﬁ ghter, above all by his comparison of Germany and the biblical city of Sodom. These words prove that he knew his bible, but on closer inspection, they do not testify to his Christian devotion but to a certain immodesty: after all, Tresckow himself claims to be one of the ten Righteous for whose sake God may spare Germany. Cfr. Goerdeler’s words in his farewell letter: “May the world accept our martyrdom as penance in behalf of the German people.” Quoted from H. Rothfels. German Opposition to Hitler (1948, 158). 142 annette mertens

References

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CHAPTER SIX

DIETRICH BONHOEFFER: A JOURNEY FROM PACIFISM TO RESISTANCE1

Ulrik B. Nissen

Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) was born in Breslau. In 1912, his family moved to Berlin and, in 1923, Bonhoeffer commenced his studies in theology. After only a year in Tübingen, he returned to Berlin and completed his studies with a dissertation (PhD) in 1927, followed by his habilitation (senior doctorate) in 1930. After a short stay in the US, Bonhoeffer returned to lecture in Berlin in 1931. During this period, he also became involved in the ecumenical movement. It is through this involvement, Bonhoeffer came to know several people who would later play a central role for his engagement in the resistance against the Nazi regime. Already in 1933, Bonhoeffer became aware of the necessary role of the church in this struggle. During the late 30’s, Bonhoeffer became increasingly involved in an active stance against the Nazi regime. In 1943, he participated in concrete attempts on Hitler’s life. April 9th, 1945, he was executed in the concentration camp of Flossenbürg.

The biographical background

In one of the recent works on Bonhoeffer, it is noted that life and work are inseparable in his life (Hauerwas 2004, 34). The monumental biography of Eberhard Bethge on Bonhoeffer is an impressive account of the way in which Bonhoeffer’s theology was profoundly shaped by the circumstances of his life (Bethge 2004). Bonhoeffer’s biography gives us a good background for understanding his emphases in his theology and why he changed course during his lifetime. Bonhoeffer was born February 4th, 1906 in Breslau as the twin brother of Sabine. They were eight brothers and sisters and lived a protected and somewhat old-fashioned lifestyle in the broad-minded

1 The chapter was fi rst presented at the seminar “Resistance and Christianity in the 20th Century—from Kaj Munk and Bonhoeffer to Tutu. First Kaj Munk Seminar, Aalborg University, August 29th, 2006”. I am grateful for the comments given to me here. Especially the comments from Rev. Paul Gerhard Schoenborn, who was also very helpful in a subsequent revision of the chapter. 148 ulrik b. nissen household of their parents. His father—Karl Bonhoeffer—held a withdrawn but authoritative role in the family. His professional background as a psychiatrist formed part of his agnostic attitude to theology and Christian faith. Bonhoeffer’s mother—Paula (born von Hase)—was the housekeeper of the home with a staff of at least fi ve servants to help with various tasks in the daily life of the Bonhoeffer family. She was also the teacher of the children in their early years, which was part of the reason why they could skip several early classes and completed their high school education at a very young age. Paula had a strong infl uence on the children, e.g. in her non-doctrinal attitude in theological and political questions. Her grandfather was the famous church historian Karl August von Hase. In 1912, the family moved to Berlin, entering a new phase in Bonhoeffer’s life where this city would become very infl uential.2 As they moved to Berlin, the children began attending school outside their home. During his childhood in Berlin, Bonhoeffer also experienced the sinister realities of WW I. The death of his brother Walter in 1918, who had been wounded in the war, had a deep impact on the young Bonhoeffer. In 1923, Bonhoeffer completed his high school education and was ready for further studies. Already from childhood, Bonhoeffer seems to have been sure about wanting to study theology and becoming a pastor (Bethge 2004, 61). Even though his brothers and sisters were somewhat puzzled by this decision and his father worried, he remained fi rm. As was customary in his family, his studies were commenced in Tübingen. However, after only a year, he returned to Berlin to continue his studies. Before coming back, he travelled during the summer of 1924 and visited Rome and North Africa. The experiences from these two places became quite important to him, especially Rome (Bethge 2004, 85). From 1924, he studied Lutheran theology in Berlin and became quite infl uenced by the theologies of Adolf von Harnack, Karl Holl, and Reinhold Seeberg. During this period, he also became aware of dialectial theology and Karl Barth. Seeberg became the supervisor on his dissertation—Sanctorum Communio—that was completed in 1927.

2 “Dietrich Bonhoeffer ist in Berlin weder geboren noch gestorben. Aber es ist die Stadt, in der er alle wichtigen Wendungen seines Denkens und Handelns vollzog; in welcher die Formeln entstanden, die aus seinen Werken zu Beginn und am Ende Auf- sehen und Auseinandersetzung hervorgerufen haben. In Berlin hat er alle Privilegien seiner Lebenssphäre genossen, und dort has er für sie schliesslich mit Leib und Leben einstehen müssen.” (Bethge 2004, 46). a journey from pacifism to resistance 149

After a year as vicar in the German congregation in Barcelona, he returned to the theological faculty as scientifi c assistant and completed his habilitation—Akt und Sein—in 1930. After the completion of his habilitation, Bonhoeffer spent a year at Union Theological Seminary in New York. This year proved to be quite important in the theme of this chapter. This is not so much due to the lectures he listened to as it is due to the two new friendships he made while being there. At Union, Bonhoeffer met Frank Fisher and Jean Lasserre. Fisher was African-American and opened a completely new world to Bonhoeffer. The black spirituals played in Harlem, the church services and the life they lived revealed a world to Bonhoeffer previously unknown to him. Fisher showed him the realities of Harlem life and gave Bonhoeffer an impression of a group of people who were suppressed and expressed some of their longing for freedom in their music. This experience left a lasting impression on Bonhoeffer. Later, back in Berlin, Bonhoeffer would again share this experience and play this music for his students. One of the evenings Bonhoeffer said, When I took leave of my black friend, he said to me: “Make our sufferings known in Germany, tell them what is happening to us and show them what we are like.” I wanted to fulfi l this obligation tonight (Nelson 1999, 22–49, 29). Through Fisher, Bonhoeffer gained a very concrete and real impression of suppressed people and felt a true need to do something for them. Through his other friend at Union, Jean Lasserre, Bonhoeffer became deeply inspired in another way. Even if there is some discussion on how Lasserre infl uenced Bonhoeffer in developing a pacifi st view, there is no doubt that he did (Nelson 1985, 71–84; Lasserre 1972, 149–60). A strong friendship grew between the two, which inspired Bonhoeffer very much. In Lasserre, he met a strong wish to make concrete the Divine grace and alertness to not keeping it at an intellectual distance. Here, Bonhoeffer met with the challenge of relating the word of God to the concrete in the challenges of his time (Bethge 2004, 191). It was probably through Lasserre that Bonhoeffer got the fi rst inspiration to Discipleship, and certainly he reached a new awareness of the importance of the peace demanded by Christ through this friendship (Bethge 2004, 190–91). After returning from Union in 1931, Bonhoeffer took up lecturing at the faculty of theology in Berlin. During this time, he also became engaged in the ecumenical movement. In the fall of 1931, he was elected 150 ulrik b. nissen as youth secretary for the World Alliance for Promoting International Friendship through the Churches. The same fall he was also ordained as pastor. Thereby, the three areas of the academy, the church, and the ecumenical movement had become an important part of Bonhoeffer’s life and laid the foundation for the coming years of his life. It was the same summer of 1931 that he met Karl Barth for the fi rst time. Even if Bonhoeffer was not so impressed by the man as he had been by his writings (Bethge 2004, 217), a longlasting relationship grew between the two, where Bonhoeffer was very inspired by Barth. His engagement in the ecumenical movement and his participation in the ecumenical conference in Cambridge September 1931 were also of signifi cant inspiration to him. These new inspirations also led Bonhoeffer to a turning point in his life, where he turned from being a theologian to being a Christian, as his close friend, Eberhard Bethge, describes it (Bethge 2004, 246–50). In the present book one can fi nd such a moment of conversion in many of the people included in the various chapters. However, this is not to be understood too narrowly. The conversions may be of different kinds. For some, it was a turn towards more social engagement, for others it was a more inner, religious experience. With regard to Bonhoeffer, Bethge compares this shift with Martin Luther’s famous tower experience (Bethge 2004, 247).3 Even if Bonhoeffer himself did not point to any kind of experience that led to a shift in his life, many things indicate the shift that occurred during this period. This was a change from the ‘phraseological’ to the ‘real’. People who had known Bonhoeffer witnessed his change from being an analytical and critical theologian to becoming a committed person as well with a practical commitment. Even if the change itself could not be witnessed, the results of it were evident (Bethge 2004, 247).4 The reading of the

3 Luther’s “tower experience” refers to Luther’s protestant breakthrough, which is said to have taken place in a tower of the Augustinian monastery, where he was a monk. Here, Luther suddenly realized how the notion of the ‘righteousness of God’ in Romans 1:17 could be understood in a passive sense, i.e. a righteousness that one receives, and not as the righteousness by which God is righteous, and punishes unrigh- teous sinners. This experience was an enormous relief to Luther, as God now appeared to Luther as a God of mercy. Luther’s whole theology became fundamentally shaped by this experience. See e.g. Alister E. McGrath (1993, 93ff.) for a more detailed account of this experience and its implications for Luther’s theology. 4 “Wer ihm seit 1931 begegnete, den beeindruckte die Weite des Wissens, die konzentrierte Arbeitsenergie, die analytische und kritiske Denkkraft, den überraschte aber auch ein zusammenhaltendes persönliches Engagement, welches in lauter prak- tischen Verhaltenweisen sichtbar wurde. Er sah Resultate einer Wandlung, aber nicht die Wandlung selbst”. a journey from pacifism to resistance 151

Bible was not only an exegetical affair, but also something of which he had meditative use. The confession was not only a theological and historical concept, but also an act, which was to be part of a Christian life. The Sermon on the Mount was not just regarded as a mirror for the Christian, but something one is actually called to follow. In this same period, Bonhoeffer also talked about a Christian pacifi sm, which, at that time, was almost unheard of in Germany.5 Especially after 1933, this pacifi sm became central to Bonhoeffer. In a letter from Bonhoeffer to a friend of his, written in 1936, he notes with a biographical look at his life: I threw myself into my work in a very unchristian way. An . . . ambition that some people recognized in me, made my life diffi cult . . . But then something happened which has changed and turned around until today. For the first time, I recognized the Bible . . . I had often preached, I had already seen much of the church, I had spoken and written about it—but I still had not become a Christian . . . I know that I had turned the cause of Jesus Christ into an advantage for myself. I pray to God that it will never happen again. Also, I had never, or only very seldom, prayed to God. In all my loneliness, I was quite content with myself. The Bible and especially the Sermon on the Mount liberated me from this. Since then, everything else has been different. I have sensed this clearly, and so has other people around me. It was a profound liberation. It became clear to me that the life of a servant of Jesus Christ must belong to the church and, for every step, it became increasingly clear how far this would lead. Then the misery of 1933 came. This only affi rmed me in this change. I now found people who also shared this aim with me. For me, everything was now about the renewal of the church and the order of the pastors . . . The Christian pacifi sm which I had fought against so passionately only shortly before—at the debate where also Gerhard had been—suddenly appeared as self-evident to me. And so it went on, step by step. I couldn’t see or think otherwise anymore . . . (Bonhoeffer 1996, 112ff.).6

5 Befores this turning point in Bonhoeffer’s life, he had even been quite ﬁ rm in his convictions of the legitimacy and necessity of just wars. This is apparent in e.g. “Grundfragen einer christlichen Ethik”, in Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Barcelona, Berlin, Amerika. 1928–1931. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 10 (DBW 10) (Bonhoeffer 1991, 323–45). The shift in his viewpoint with regard to this question also demonstrates the radical change in his fundamental approach to theology and Christianity. 6 Quotations in the main text are translated into English from the German original. When possible, a standard text will be used and it will be listed in the notes and references, but otherwise the author is the translator. In the notes, the German text has been maintained. 152 ulrik b. nissen

During his time at the University of Berlin, Bonhoeffer lectured from 1931 to 1933 on various topics centering on ecclesiology, Christol- ogy, and ethics. During this same period, he also became increasingly engaged in his calling as a pastor and his work in the ecumenical movement. All this was an important background for Bonhoeffer, as Hitler rose to power in January 1933. Provoked by the fl ags with the swastika in the cathedral of Magdeburg, Bonhoeffer said in his fi rst sermon in the church of the trinity in Berlin (Berliner Dreifaltigkeitskirche): In the church, we only have one altar, and that is the altar of the supreme being . . . in front of whom all knees must bow . . . Anyone wishing anything else should stay away, he cannot be with us in the house of God . . . In the church, we also have only one pulpit, and from this pulpit we speak about faith in God or else of no faith and no will, however good it may be (Bethge 2004, 305). For the whole Bonhoeffer family, the political leadership of Hitler could under no circumstances be accepted. From the very day of his taking offi ce, January 30th, the whole family declared war on Hitler (Bethge 2004, 305). From now on, Bonhoeffer’s life took a new direction. From now on, his life was marked by his critique of Hitler’s regime and the ways it infl uenced the church. Later that year, a group of pastors and theologians would join as German Christians (Deutsche Christen) with the aim of securing a unity between the German protestant church and the national socialist regime. During these months, Bonhoeffer also seems to move in the direction of taking an active stance against the corrupt political powers. Already in April 1933, he saw three clear tasks for the church in such a situation. Firstly, the church was to ask the state whether it could justify its actions as politically legitimate. Secondly, the church was always to be on the side of the oppressed. Thirdly, when the church beyond doubt saw the state transgressing its legitimate authority, it was the responsibility of the church “. . . not only to care for the victim under the wheel, but to put a spoke in the wheel itself ”.7 However, at this stage Bonhoeffer still maintained that the decision when, and if it had come to such a point, would still rest on a church council. It was not a decision the individual could make. Although later in his life, the necessity of this corporate decision would no longer be as important to him.

7 These points are all taken from his writing “Die Kirche vor der Judenfrage” (Bonhoeffer 1997, 353). a journey from pacifism to resistance 153

During very few months, things rapidly became worse and worse. In September 1933, the Arian paragraph was formulated with the intention of keeping the churches ethnically clean. As a result of this, an emergency association of pastors was established and grew rapidly as an act of solidarity with the non-Arian pastors. During the years 1933–1935, Bonhoeffer’s ecumenical circle grew and he became more engaged in English church life, as he became pastor for the German congregation in London. This stay abroad made it possible for him to establish a network he probably could not have done if he had been in Germany. During this time, he also became inspired by the Angli- can Bishop George Bell to see possible ways for the church to become politically engaged. However, in 1935, he felt that he had to return to Germany. He was now hoping that the church, in order to exist, would stand up against the tyranny of the national socialist regime (Bethge 2004, 480). When Bonhoeffer returned to Germany, however, he did not become part of the establishment. Instead, he devoted himself to what seemed to him to be the calling for his life—the unreserved studying of discipleship and living a pious way of life (praxis pietatis). He was called by the confessing church as director of a preacher’s seminary (Predigerse- minar) where he gathered around him devoted and committed young pastors. This formed the context for the illegal theological training at Finkenwalde during the years 1935–1937. During the fall of 1937, Finkenwalde, along with other seminaries related to The Confessing Church, were closed by police authorities as they were considered a potential threat.8 During the next few years, the conditions for the church became increasingly intolerable. Even if Bonhoeffer had argued at an earlier stage for a paciﬁ st standpoint, he now seemed to be open for a more active stance against the tyranny of the national socialist regime. During 1938, he had become involved in undercover discussions and plans for bringing about a change in the political leadership for Germany. Even if this was strange for him as a Lutheran theologian, he now became more and more involved in an active opposition against

8 The Confessing Church (die Bekennende Kirche) refers to a Christian resistance movement in Nazi Germany. When attempts were made to merge the teachings of the German Evangelical Church (die Deutsche Evangelische Kirche) and the Nazi ideology, a group of theologians—among which Karl Barth and Bonhoeffer played a central role—formed an opposition. The Confessing Church encouraged and participated in various forms of opposition against the Nazi regime. It was partly due to his participation in this movement that Bonhoeffer was later sent to concentration camp. 154 ulrik b. nissen

Hitler’s regime (Bethge 2004, 700). Suddenly, in 1939, it became possible for him to escape from Germany and continue the struggle from the other side of the Atlantic. However, he had barely come to the US before he decided that he had to return to Germany. He could not see himself participating in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war, if he did not share the suffering and trials of the German people.9 Bonhoeffer now entered the third phase of his life, which Bethge has described as “contemporary” (Zeitgenosse). Bonhoeffer now took active stance in concrete and political questions.10 During the coming years, Bonhoeffer were increasingly involved in concrete political plans for an actual attempt on Hitler’s life. During 1941, these plans became more concrete. In March 1943, two attempts were made, both of them without success. Shortly after these attempts, Bonhoeffer and several people around him were arrested. After spending the rest of 1943 and 1944 in the Tegel prison, he was taken to the concentration camps in early 1945. On April 9th, 1945, he was executed in the concentration camp of Flossenbürg.

The Journey from Pacifism to Resistance

As we have seen in the biographic overview of Bonhoeffer’s life, he had quite different phases in views on these matters. These phases were brought about both by incidents in Bonhoeffer’s life, but just as much by his openness for fundamentally rethinking issues in the light of the dramatic changes of which he became part. In the following part of this chapter, we will concentrate on Bonhoeffer’s theological motives for these views. We will do so, ﬁ rstly, by looking at his paciﬁ st

9 “Sitting here in Dr. Coffi n’s garden, I have had the time to think and to pray about my situation and that of my nation and to have God’s will for me clarifi ed. I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this diffi cult period of our national history with the Christian people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people” (Bonhoeffer 1998, 210). 10 “1939 trat er in die schwierige Welt des Abschätzens von Zweckmässigkeiten, von Erfolg und Misserfolg, von Taktik und Tarnung. Die Gewissheit des Berufes von 1932 verwandelte sich in die Hinnahme von ungewissen Halbheiten und lauter Vor- läufi gkeiten. Die neue Wende forderte ein ganz anderes Opfer: das Opfer auch der christlichen Reputation.” (Bethge 2004, 762). a journey from pacifism to resistance 155 standpoint and then, secondly, by turning to his understanding of the rightful violent opposition against the perverted regime.11

Pacifism as a Witness of Christ

In Bethge’s biography, it is described how Bonhoeffer moves into a second phase as a Christian during the year 1931–1932. It is in the same period that we fi nd Bonhoeffer’s turn to pacifi sm. The turn in Bonhoeffer’s approach to theology, church and Christian faith also implied a turn in his understanding of the Christian pacifi sm. Suddenly, it appeared self-evident to him (Bonhoeffer 1996, 113). In the light of his new approach to the Christian life, he could no longer ignore the call to lead a pacifi st life. In the following years, he would make several clear statements on pacifi sm. It is discussed among Bonhoeffer scholars how clearly Bonhoeffer is to be understood as a pacifi st. Eberhard Bethge holds the view that Bon- hoeffer was never a pacifi st, despite of being very inspired by Lasserre (Bethge 2004, 190). A similar position is found in one the more recent contributions, where it is argued that Bonhoeffer probably never was a pacifi st (Nation 1991, 61–77). However, it is very much a question what one calls pacifi sm. In Christian ethics, one may distinguish between at least three types of pacifi sm, namely principled, pragmatic and selective pacifi sm (Elford 2001). Principled pacifi sm is focused on an interpretation of Jesus’ ministry and fi rmly believes that only non-violence can beget non-violence. The pragmatic pacifi sm acknowledges the ideal of pacifi sm but appreciates that certain consequences and conditions need to be taken into account. Finally, selective pacifi sm would consider fi ghting wars only in exceptional cases. In the light of these defi nitions of pacifi sm, I would argue that Bonhoeffer represents a selective pacifi sm. He fi rmly believes in the pacifi st ideals, but in the exceptional case of Nazi Germany, it is a rightful act to stand up against this tyranny. That Bonhoeffer holds a fi rm belief in pacifi sm is seen in several of his writings, where he makes this standpoint clear. The two best examples are his speech at the Fanø conference in Denmark, August 1934 and his infl uential work Discipleship published in 1937.

11 Please see the Appendix at the end of this chapter for further literature references on Bonhoeffer. In the following, I will only be drawing on parts of it as it touches on the analysis of the present chapter. 156 ulrik b. nissen

In his speech at the Fanø conference,12 Bonhoeffer made a very strong commitment to peace. In his capacity as youth secretary of the World Alliance for Promoting International Friendship through the Churches, Bonhoeffer had already been recruited in the summer of 1933 to deliver this speech. In his Fanø speech, Bonhoeffer addresses the topic of the ecumenical conference, “The Church and the World of Nations”. Bonhoeffer commences by quoting Psalm 85, 8: Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his faithful, to those who turn to him in their hearts. With this quotation as his starting point, Bonhoeffer makes a plea to the ecumenical movement to concern itself with neither nationalism nor internationalism. Rather the primary concern of the ecumenical movement should be the commandments of God and the wish to transmit these commandments to the world (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 298). In this light, the theological task is to comply with these commandments and carry this message of peace into the world. Our task as theologians, accordingly consists only in accepting this commandment as a binding one, not as a question open to discussion. Peace on earth is not a problem, but a commandment given at Christ’s coming (Bonhoeffer 2007, 307). For Bonhoeffer, this is to be understood quite literally. He treats the theological questioning of the sincerity of these words with sarcastic irony. God has spoken with a commandment of peace and wishes this commandment to be followed accordingly. For the Christian this is simply a commandment, which is to be followed, and any attempt to lessen the authority of these words is in itself a denial of God. . . . what He [God, UBN ] has said is that there shall be peace among men—that we shall obey Him without further question, that is what He means. He who questions the commandment of God before obeying has already denied Him (Bonhoeffer 2007, 308).

12 “Rede auf der Fanø-Konferenz (28.8.1934): “Kirche und Völkerwelt”, (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 298–301). The German version of this talk is followed by an English version, which was published in a newsletter by the International Fellowship of Reconciliation in 1948 (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 302–305). For the present chapter, the references are made to the German version. Immediately preceding this talk is also Bonhoeffer’s “Thesenpapier zur Fanø-Konferenz: ‘Die Kirche und die Welt der Nationen’ ” (August 1934) (Bon- hoeffer 1994a, 295–297). This paper will also be included in the present chapter. The standard English edition of this work is London: 1933–1935. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Volume 13 (Bonhoeffer 2007). a journey from pacifism to resistance 157

Bonhoeffer further argues that the peace has its source in the church of Christ, for the sake of which the world exists (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 299). For the church, there is a bond and a unity, which is stronger than all the kinds of natural bonds one may think of. Even if ties of history, of blood, of class and of language may unite men, they are not as fundamental and far-reaching as the bonds of the church. For the Christians know that they who are not able to leave everything behind for the sake of Christ, are not worthy to be called his followers. The Christians know that they are called to obey Christ’s commandment of peace. Therefore, brothers of Christ can never raise weapons against each other, as this would be raising weapons against Christ himself. So, even in the most threatened situation, the Christian can never escape Christ’s commandment of peace (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 299–300). However, Bonhoeffer was not only concerned with the theoretical questions of peace. The aim for him was the practical implications of these views. Therefore, he also turned to the question—how does peace come about? Here, Bonhoeffer distinguished sharply between peace and safety. For Bonhoeffer, there was no way to peace along the way of safety. Many of the political and economic initiatives that were taken to ensure peace did not serve this aim, as they confused peace and safety. To Bonhoeffer, peace is something which can only be dared, which is why it is the opposite of security. Any attempt to ensure peace based on demands of guarantee towards each other is based on mistrust, and as long as this is the driving force, the risk of war will always be present. Therefore, the only way to make peace come about is by giving oneself to the law of God. It is only by surrendering oneself in faith and obedience to God whose will is seen in the cross that peace will come about. It is only by the way of the cross, i.e. the defenceless surrender and willingness to suffer that peace will come about (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 300). However, this is too strong a vocation for the individual Christian to bear, just as it is too strong a pressure for the churches in the different countries. The task can only be lifted by the ecumenical, holy church. It is only the ecumenical, holy church, which can speak this word of peace so that it will be widely heard.13 It is here that the word of peace can be proclaimed as a gospel of peace.

13 This strong emphasis on the church is also seen in his “Thesenpapier”, where he argues that it is only if the church remains church (and not another purpose driven association) that it will be able to speak truthfully the word of Christ. The Church 158 ulrik b. nissen

Only the one great Ecumenical Council of the Holy Church of Christ over all the world can speak out so that the world, though it gnashes its teeth, will have to hear, so that the peoples will rejoice because the Church of Christ in the name of Christ has taken the weapons from the hands of their sons, forbidden war, and proclaimed the peace of Christ against the raging world (Bonhoeffer 2007, 309). Even if it may be debated to what extent Bonhoeffer was a pacifi st, his deliberations in the Fanø speech certainly stimulated a pacifi st standpoint. Bonhoeffer pointed to central implications of the Christian faith leading towards a pacifi st stance as the only possible position for the Christian and the Christian church. This was a matter of being true to the gospel of the cross. A similar way of seeing the notion of pacifi sm was also seen in his Discipleship, published three years after his Fanø speech. Discipleship was written over three years, which also means that he began writing this book about the time when he was preparing for the Fanø conference. Therefore, it is not surprising to fi nd parallels between the two works in his views on pacifi sm. An important part of Discipleship took shape while Bonhoeffer taught at Finkenwalde. The aim of this work is to theologically refl ect on the Sermon on the Mount to see if it holds a demand that can be made plausible for us today. This work is one of the most well-known and infl uential works of Bonhoeffer. His notion of pacifi sm is also found in this work, where he attempts to understand the implications of Matthew 5, 43ff. where Jesus commands his listeners to love their enemies. Bonhoeffer makes no attempt to lessen the radicalism of these passages. Rather, he makes it very clear that the Christian is called to love the enemy and that this is the actual point of the whole Sermon on the Mount.14 The love for the enemy is contrary to the nature of the human being. Furthermore, one may even fi nd passages in Biblical law, which prescribe how one should separate oneself from one’s enemy. Even so, Jesus still maintains remains church only when it fi nds it source in an obedient listening to and preaching of the word of God (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 295). This also implies for Bonhoeffer that the Church must reject both the attempt to justify war and the secular pacifi sm, which ignores the obedience to the word of God (Bonhoeffer 1994a, 296–97). 14 “Hier fällt zum ersten Male in der Bergpredigt das Wort, in dem alles Gesagte zusammengefaßt ist: Liebe, und sogleich in der eindeutigen Bestimmung der Feindes- liebe. Liebe zum Bruder wäre ein missverständliches Gebot, Liebe zum Feind mach unmissverständlich deutlich, was Jesus will” (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 140). The standard English edition of this work is Discipleship. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Volume 4 (DBWE 4) (Bonhoeffer 2001). a journey from pacifism to resistance 159 that the enemy should be met with love.15 In all respects, the enemy is to be met with love from the Christian. This call to love the enemy concerns the enemy that remains enemy in being untouched by the love with which one meets him or her. It is a radical demand that fi nds its source only in the will of Jesus. Its only concern is the one who needs this love (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 142). Bonhoeffer takes this interpretation to its limits, when he emphasizes that this means that the follower of Christ will be following him without any reservation in all areas of life, with love for enemies of all kinds. No matter whether it is a political or religious enemy, they can all expect only undivided love from Jesus’ followers. This love recognizes no inner confl ict within myself, even between my being a private person and my being an offi ceholder. In both cases, I can be only one who follows Jesus, or I am no follower of Jesus at all (Bonhoeffer 2001, 139). This love for the enemy is not just a question of tolerating and accepting the enemy. Rather, the Christian is called to love the enemy with deeply felt love and concern.16 The Christian is even called to pray for her or his enemy. Even if the enemy may still pursue the Christian, the Christian is still called to carry the burdens and problems of the enemy before God in prayer. In doing so, the Christian does for the enemy what she or he could not do himself.17 In this understanding of the Christian’s unselfi sh concern for the enemy, Bonhoeffer develops a Christological understanding of what the Christian does for the enemy. Just as Christ did for the human being what she or he could not do on

15 “Feindesliebe ist nicht nur dem natürlichen Menschen ein unerträglicher Anstoß. Sie geht ihm über die Kraft, und sie verstößt gegen seinen Begriff von Gut und Böse. Wichtiger ist, daß Feindesliebe auch dem Menschen unter dem Gesetz als eine Versündigung gegem das Gesetz Gottes erscheint: die Trennung vom Feinde und seine Verurteilung ist die Forderung des Gesetzes. Aber Jesus nimmt Gottes Gesetz in seine Hände und legt es aus. Überwindung des Feindes—durch Feindesliebe, das ist der Wille Gottes in seinem Gesetz” (Bonhoeffer 2001, 141). 16 “Nicht nur duldend sollen wir das Böse und den Bösen ertragen, nicht nur Schlag nicht mit Widerschlag vergelten, sondern in herzlicher Liebe sollen wir unserm Feinde zugetan sein. Ungeheuchelt und rein sollen wir unserm Feinde dienen und helfen in allen Dingen. Kein Opfer, das der Liebende dem Geliebten darbringen würde, kann uns zu groß und zu kostbar sein für unseren Feind” (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 142). 17 “Jesus Verheißt uns nicht, daß uns der Feind, den wir lieben, den wir segnen, dem wir wohltun, nicht beleidigen und verfolgen werde. Er wird es tun. Aber auch hierin kann er uns nicht schaden und überwinden, wenn wir den letzten Schritt zu ihm tun in fürbittendem Gebet. Nun nehmen wir seine Not und Armut, seine Schuld und Verlorenheit mit auf uns, treten vor Gott für ih ein. Wir tun stellvertretend für ihn, was er nicht tun kann” (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 143). 160 ulrik b. nissen their own, so the Christian does for the enemy what she or he cannot do on their own. Just as Christ carries the burdens of humankind, so the Christian carries the burdens of the enemy before God. This is also where Bonhoeffer says that this love is insurmountable. This is the kind of love that is only concerned with what Jesus has done. It is the love which leads to the cross and fellowship with the crucifi ed. In this love, the Christian cannot do anything but hold on to Christ and the love, which is seen in the cross. Loving one’s enemies leads disciples to the way of the cross and into communion with the crucifi ed one. But the more the disciples are certain to have been forced onto this path, the greater the certainty that their love remains unconquered, that love overcomes the hatred of the enemy; for it is not their own love. It is solely the love of Jesus Christ, who went to the cross for his enemies and prayed on the cross for them (. . .) That is how love makes disciples able to see, so that they can see the enemies included in God’s love, that they can see the enemies under the cross of Jesus Christ. God did not ask me about good and evil, because before God even my good was godless. God’s love seeks the enemy who needs it, whom God considers to be worthy of it. In the enemy, God magnifi es divine love. Disciples know that (Bonhoeffer 2001, 141). This view leads Bonhoeffer to a discussion on love. For Bonhoeffer, the natural love, where you are called to love your neighbor with whom you are connected through blood, history or friendship, is self-evident (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 146–47). However, this love is different from the Christian love. The Christian love is the love which is not self-evident, and which has as its source in Christ himself and the radical demand to follow Jesus unconditionally. In this radical demand, the Christian is confronted with the extraordinary—το περισσον—where the Christian can only seek fulfi llment in Christ. It is the demand, which leads to the cross; it is the demand which bears witness to the love of Christ with his willingness to endure suffering and death.18

18 “Worin besteht das περισσον, das Außerordentliche? Es ist die Existenz der Seliggepriesenen, der Nachfolgenden, es ist das leuchtende Licht, die Stadt auf dem Berge, es ist der Weg der Selbstverleugnung (. . .) es ist hier die ungeteilte Liebe zum Feind, die Liebe zu dem, der keinen liebt und den keiner liebt (. . .) Es ist in all dem der Weg, der seine Erfüllung fand am Kreuze Jesu Christi. Was ist das περισσον? Es ist die Liebe Jesu Christi selbst, die leidend und gehorsam ans Kreuz geht, es ist das Kreuz. Das Sonderliche des Christlichen ist das Kreuz, das den Christen über-die- Welt-hinaussein läßt und ihm darin den Sieg über die Welt gibt. Die passio in der Liebe des Gekreuzigten—das ist das „Außerordentliche“ an der christlichen Existenz” (Bonhoeffer 1994b, 148). a journey from pacifism to resistance 161

Having looked at both Bonhoeffer’s Fanø speech and his Discipleship, we see a common theological notion, which is central to Bonhoeffer’s view on pacifi sm. Central to both is the notion of the theology of the cross. The Christian is called to follow Christ and this is a calling, which fi nds its most provoking and yet most profound expression in the cross. As we shall see in the following, Bonhoeffer could also draw other theological implications of the theology of the cross. Although for his pacifi sm, he emphasized the aspect of being willing to suffer for the other and not stand up against injustice and violent suppression. The theology of the cross as the core theological notion in Bonhoeffer’s theological pacifi sm also means that his pacifi st deliberations were tied up with central theological notions and in that sense derived from some of his most deeply held convictions.19 This pacifi sm was no doubt part of Bonhoeffer’s theology in his later years, but during the late 30’s, it became increasingly diffi cult for him to live in accordance with his pacifi st ideals. He came to a point, where he opened up for an active resistance, even if he may very well still have held his pacifi st ideals. As one of the articles on Bonhoeffer’s pacifi sm formulates it: . . . The Church was to exist not for itself but for the service of God and the community at large. The life and service of the Church was to be lived in conformity to Christ. This conformity included love for enemies, refusing to seek revenge, and embracing a willingness to suffer for the sake of righteousness just as Christ did. This conformity to Christ must be lived out in the real world where there are gross cases of injustice. Therefore, the Christian community should learn non-violent means of challenging and resisting the forces of injustice, ways taught by people such as Mohandas Ghandi. This was the vision and life of Bonhoeffer. It was only after he received no support for conscientious objection and concerns about non-violent resistance; only after he was disillusioned with the Confessing Church and the Ecumenical Movement; only after he could no longer preach, teach, or publish that he turned to conspiracy (Nation 1991, 76).

19 The debate on the theological motives for Bonhoeffer’s paciﬁ sm and later resistance is discussed by e.g. (Hauerwas 2004; Nation 1999; Nation 2000; Bethge 1982). Bethge discusses how the change in Bonhoeffer’s view is to be understood, and argues with the reference to the concepts of “Stellvertretung”, “Wirklichkeitsgemäßheit”, “Schuldübernahme” and “Freies Wagnis”—all taken from the section “Die Strukturen der verantwortlichen Lebens”—that Bonhoeffer all along formed a theology in deep continuity with his life. Also with respect to his resistance, it was a sense of the presence of Christ which led him to this position. 162 ulrik b. nissen

Resistance as Being Christ for the Other

Even if the pacifi st notion was central to Bonhoeffer during the 1930’s, it was his willingness and courage to stand up against the Nazi regime that he was to become most known by. During the same period, he gradually came to an understanding of the necessity of this kind of opposition, but this new position was not without diffi culties for him. As a Lutheran theologian, this new position was not uncontroversial. Even if one could point to theological precursors such as e.g. Thomas Aquinas and John Calvin for the legitimacy of tyrannicide—not to mention Karl Barth who had quite an infl uence on Bonhoeffer’s theology (Pangritz 1999, 36ff.)—the infl uence from Luther’s writings pointed in a quite different direction (Green 1999, 305). Also the political situation in which he came to this new position required carefulness. He could not be as explicit about these new ideas, as he might have liked to be. However, even if these views are not quite as explicit as we could have wished, we fi nd several central theological motives supporting the tyrannicide. Bonhoeffer’s posthumously published work Ethics (Bonhoeffer 1992; 2005) was written during these last years of his life. Therefore, it is not surprising that it is here that we fi nd some of the theological arguments for an active participation in the tyrranicide.20 In the section “Christ, Reality, and Good” in this work (Bonhoeffer 2005, 47–75), Bonhoeffer criticizes the classical ethical positions, regarding them as insuffi cient in the concrete struggle against the Nazi regime. In this section of his Ethics, Bonhoeffer also raises a discussion of the concept of autonomy, which is prevalent in many ethical theories. Bonhoeffer is critical of this notion, just as he is critical of Kantian philosophy. Although he is also critical of this concept because it is closely connected with the understanding of autonomous life spheres, where it, in the Germany of Bonhoeffer’s days, was used e.g. to argue that the political realm had its own lawfulness and therefore should not be challenged by ethical and political considerations based on Christian faith. Bonhoeffer could not accept this view and the rejection of this idea plays a central role in his Ethics.21 Rather than complying with an autonomous lawfulness

20 The following account of the theological motives for Bonhoeffer’s participation in the resistance movement is very much based upon Green, (1999, 301–20). 21 For a further discussion on the concept of autonomy and Bonhoeffer’s attempt to develop a notion of Christonomy instead, see Ulrik Becker Nissen, “Disbelief and Christonomy of the World,” (2006, 91–110). a journey from pacifism to resistance 163 of the political realm, one should surrender oneself completely to the will of God. It is in the will of God, as it is revealed in Jesus Christ that one fi nds the source of Christian ethics.22 To Bonhoeffer, this also means that there is only one reality, namely the Christ reality. Hence there are not two realms, but only the one realm of the Christ-reality [Christuswirklichkeit], in which the reality of God and the reality of the world are united (Bonhoeffer 2005, 58). Having emphasized the Christological source of Christian ethics, it is equally important for Bonhoeffer that this does not lead to an “other- worldly” ethics. For Bonhoeffer it is important that this Christological basis implies an affi rmation of divine and worldly reality at the same time.23 The world is always the world, which is reconciled with God in Christ (Bonhoeffer 1992, 50ff.). This affi rmation of worldly and human reality also implies a negation of the Nazi ideology. As one of the com- mentators on Bonhoeffer says: To be formed in the gestalt of the Incarnate is to be really human before God—not less and not more. Contempt for humanity and idolization of humanity are not Christian options. In two specifi c respects Bonhoeffer rejects Nazi ideology here. The cult of the heroic, of the demigod, is repudiated. So is the propaganda that there is an ideal type or “defi nite picture of the human character”, a clear rejection of the Aryan ideal of National Socialism which was an intrinsic part of its anti-semitic racism (Green 1999, 310). Being shaped in the likeness of Christ also implies being shaped in the likeness of the crucifi ed. This entails the willingness to participate in the suffering of God in the world (Bonhoeffer 1992, 52ff.). It is the willingness to walk “. . . the path of suffering, including acceptance of

22 “Der Ursprung der christlichen Ethik ist nicht die Wirklichkeit des eigenen Ich, nicht die Wirklichkeit der Welt, aber auch nicht die Wirklichkeit der Normen und Werte, sondern die Wirklichkeit Gottes in seiner Offenbarung in Jesus Christus” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 33). 23 “In Christus begegnet uns das Angebot, an der Gotteswirklichkeit und an der Weltwirklichkeit zugleich teil zu bekommen, eines nicht ohne das andere. Die Wirklich- keit Gottes erschließt sich nicht anders als indem sie mich ganz in die Weltwirklichkeit hineinstellt, die Weltwirklichkeit aber fi nde ich immer schon getragen, angenommen, versöhnt in der Wirklichkeit Gottes vor. Das ist das Geheimnis der Offenbarung Gottes in dem Menschen Jesus Christus (. . .) Es geht also darum, an der Wirklichkeit Gottes und der Welt in Jesus Christus heute teilzuhaben und das so, daß ich die Wirklichkeit Gottes nie ohne die Wirklichkeit der Welt und die Wirklichkeit der Welt nie ohne die Wirklichkeit Gottes erfahre” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 40). 164 ulrik b. nissen the judgment of God.” (Green 1999, 311)24 Being conformed to the risen Christ means living with the eschatological hope as part of the concrete life. It is a secret in the sense that it cannot be revealed, but it is a living part of the Christian life as it is a source of hope, courage, and vision. It is particularly in the section “History and Good” that we fi nd the more actual arguments for the participation in the resistance. Here, Bonhoeffer develops four themes: Vicarious representative action (Stell- vertretung); correspondence with reality; taking on guilt; and freedom. These themes are all developed in his wish to explain the concept of a responsible life (Bonhoeffer 1992, 256ff.). First, in his understanding of the vicarious representative action, he emphazises the responsibility for fellowships and nations. One has a responsibility to take the place of others, to act as representatives of others in these contexts. Bonhoeffer argues that the structure of the responsible life is determined in a two- fold manner—by “. . . life’s bond to human beings and to God, and by the freedom of one’s own life.” (Bonhoeffer 2005, 257). Responsibility fi nds its source in this being bound and being free. This understanding also leads Bonhoeffer to his understanding of representative action, as it is precisely because we are bound to each other that we also have to act representatively for each other (Bonhoeffer 1992, 256–57). This understanding of representation is also closely related to a Christologi- cal understanding. Because Jesus is our representative before God, we are included in this representative action. In this sense, the notion of representation fi nds its expression in the representation of Jesus. Jesus—the life, our life—the son of God who became human, lived as our vicarious representative. Through him, therefore, all human life is in its essence vicarious representation. Jesus was not the individual who sought to achieve some personal perfection, but only lived as the one who in himself has taken on and bears the selves of all human beings. His entire living, acting, and suffering was vicarious representative action [Stellvertretung]. All that human beings were supposed to live, do, and suffer was fulfi lled in him (Bonhoeffer 2005, 258). As representation is closely linked to Christ, Bonhoeffer also argues that responsibility and representation are only to be found in the complete

24 The participation motive as the solidarity with the suffering and the Christologi- cal dimension of this view is further developed in Pangritz, “Theological Motives in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Decision to Participate in Political Resistance” (1999, 41ff.). a journey from pacifism to resistance 165 devotion of oneself to the other.25 Even if Bonhoeffer had this Christo- logical understanding of representation, it was important for him that this was always to be understood in relation to the concrete other. It was not an abstract other, but the concrete reality of the other in a given situation. In this sense, Bonhoeffer’s understanding of representation also leads to an affi rmative understanding of reality. To act responsibly is to act according to reality (Bonhoeffer 1992, 260). Therefore, Bonhoeffer can also take the second step in his refl ection on responsibility, namely to argue that reality is fundamentally Chris- tological. Christ is ‘the Real One’ and as such, He is the source and basis of reality. Any attempt to understand reality apart from Christ makes no sense and leads to a senseless life.26 In Christ, all of reality is affi rmed and reconciled with God. Therefore, to act according to reality (wirklichkeitsgemäß) is to act in Christ. In Jesus Christ, the Real One, all reality is taken on and summed up; Christ is its origin, essence, and goal. That is why it is only in and from Christ that it is possible to act in a way that is in accord with reality (Bonhoeffer 2005, 263). This is closely linked to Bonhoeffer’s understanding of reality as only being one reality. Already at the fi rst pages of his Ethik, Bonhoeffer makes the point clear that there is only one reality, the Christ reality (Bonhoeffer 1992, 31ff.). He then points to some of the consequences of this view with respect to responsibility. Responsibility is bound to this reality. Therefore to act according to reality is to act according to Christ (Bonhoeffer 1992, 262–63), but here it is important that this is understood as an affi rmation of worldly and human reality. It is precisely because the Christological understanding of reality affi rms the worldly reality that Bonhoeffer can argue for this approach to reality.

25 “Stellvertretung und also Verantwortlichkeit gibt es nur in der vollkommenen Hingabe des eigenen Lebens an den anderen Menschen. Nur der selbstlose lebt verant- wortlich und heißt nur der Selbstlose lebt” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 258). 26 “Alles Faktische erfährt von dem Wirklichen, dessen Name Jesus Christus heißt, seine letzte Begründung und seine letzte Aufhebung, seine Rechtfertigung und seinen letzten Widerspruch, sein letztes Ja und sein letztes Nein. Die Wirklichkeit ohne den Wirklichen verstehen zu wollen, bedeutet in einer Abstraktion leben, der der Verant- wortliche niemals verfallen darf, bedeutet Vorbeileben an der Wirklichkeit, bedeutet endloses Schwanken zwischen den Extremen der Servilität und der Auflehnung gegenüber dem Faktischen” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 261). 166 ulrik b. nissen

Action in accordance with Christ is in accord with reality because it allows the world to be world and reckons with the world as world, while at the same time never forgetting that that the world is love, judged, and reconciled in Jesus Christ by God (Bonhoeffer 2005, 264). Therefore, the world remains world as loved and reconciled with God in Christ. As such, the world is the space of the concrete responsibility (Bonhoeffer 1992, 266). However, this responsibility is limited by the human condition, but this limitation also raises the question of responsibility. Christian responsibility is linked to the creaturely conditions (Bon- hoeffer 1992, 267ff.). So even if this means that Christian responsibility is creaturely and humble, it also entails that, in the extreme situations where ‘necessities of life’ are threatened, the responsible action may protect the necessities. In these situations, the responsible action may protect nothing than life itself and transcend law and normal morality in order to do this. Third, one should be willing to take on guilt (Bonhoeffer 1992, 275ff.). With Jesus as the ideal, Bonhoeffer argues for the willingness to take on guilt for the sake of the other. This was an important argument for his participation in the conspiracy. As Clifford Green puts it: . . . responsible action requires one to take on guilt “from time to time”. Not all responsible action requires this, but certain circumstances do, including conspiring to produce a coup d’etat and to kill a tyrant (Green 1999, 318). This notion of willingness to carry guilt was also deeply Christologically understood. Just as Christ’s love led him to carry guilt, so the Christian should be willing to carry guilt. Any attempt to withdraw from the responsibility and willingness to carry guilt is a withdrawal from the inner mystery of reality, which is Christ himself. A lack of willingness to carry guilt isolates oneself from Divine justifi cation.27 This understanding of willingness to carry guilt also leads Bonhoeffer to refl ect on the notion of conscience. Bonhoeffer defi nes conscience as follows:

27 “Weil Jesus die Schuld aller Menschen auf sich nahm, darum wird jeder verant- worlich Handelnde schuldig. Wer sich in der Verantwortung der Schuld entziehen will, lost sich aus der letzten Wirklichkeit des menschlichen Daseins, lost sich aber auch aus dem erlösenden Geheimnis des sündlosen Schuldtragens Jesu Christi und hat keinen Anteil an der göttlichen Rechtfertigung, die über diesem Ereignis liegt” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 276). a journey from pacifism to resistance 167

Conscience is the call of human existence for unity with itself, voiced from a deep wellspring beyond one’s own will and reason (Bonhoeffer 2005, 276). As such, conscience warns against the loss of one’s self when the being, which is in unity with this self, is threatened (Bonhoeffer 1992, 277). This understanding of conscience leads Bonhoeffer to a discussion on the source of this unity of being. Bonhoeffer is critical of the view that the individual is autonomous in the sense that the source of the law lies within the self, but even more critical is the way the notion of conscience was misused for the purpose of supporting National Socialism. Here, Bonhoeffer makes one of his few explicit references to National Socialism and demonstrates his critical position. When some national socialists could say that Adolf Hitler was their conscience, they expressed an understanding that had some analogy to the Christian understanding. Both views expressed the insight that conscience has another source than the self. Yet in the differing emphasis of these two views, the radical difference between them also became apparent (Bonhoeffer 1992, 278–79). For the Christian, only Christ can be the source of the conscience. This Christological understanding of the conscience also leads to a liberation of the self and a tense unity between conscience and responsibility (Bonhoeffer 1992, 280ff.). Lastly, fourth, he develops the notion of freedom to do good (Bon- hoeffer 1992, 283ff.). Freedom is always bound to responsibility as determined by the duty before God and the neighbor, but the free responsibility is always undertaken with a degree of uncertainty as the moral decision is often taken in the twilight. This also means that one must surrender any attempt at self-justiﬁ cation and leave the course of history in the hands of God. Thus a profound mystery of history as such is disclosed to us. Precisely those who act in the freedom of their very own responsibility see their activity as ﬂ owing into God’s guidance. Free action recognizes itself ulti- mately as being God’s action, decision as God’s guidance, the venture as divine necessity. In freely surrendering the knowledge of our own goodness, the good of God occurs (Bonhoeffer 2005, 285–86). Bonhoeffer closely links the notion of freedom to the concept of obedience. Freedom and obedience are not contrary to each other. Rather, they are seen in a close unity with each other.28 Again, Bonhoeffer

28 “Gehorsam und Verantwortung greifen ineinander, sodaß also nicht etwa erst 168 ulrik b. nissen returns to a Christological argument, as he says that this unity fi nds its source in Jesus Christ. In Christ, freedom and obedience come together in one and the same person (Bonhoeffer 1992, 288). Also the concept of responsibility—as it is closely linked with the Christological understanding of reality—brings together these two concepts. It is in responsibility that one is both bound and creative. One is bound to a given situation and a given source of reality and yet one has to act freely in this situation. Here, one has no other option than to surrender oneself to God and trust in him. In responsibility, both obedience and freedom become real [realisieren sich]. Responsibility has this inner tension. Any attempt to make one independent of the other would be the end of responsibility. Respon- sible action is bound and yet creative (. . .) Responsible human beings, who stand between obligation [Bindung] and freedom and who, while bound, must nevertheless dare to act freely, fi nd justifi cation neither by their bond nor by their freedom, but only in the One who has placed them in this—humanly impossible—situation and who requires them to act. Responsible human beings surrender themselves and their action to God (Bonhoeffer 2005, 288). In these last formulations it is diffi cult not to hear the concern with the situation in Germany, when this was written. Bonhoeffer knew very well what it meant to be bound by a certain given situation and yet have no other alternative than to act freely. In this situation, one can very well understand how Bonhoeffer has seen no other alternative than to commit himself to what he had to do and yet maintain that in doing this he was surrendering himself and his actions to God. For Bonhoeffer, all of these theological arguments for the participation in the resistance were closely connected to a Christological basis. Bonhoeffer’s resistance could not be separated from the Christological foundation, which permeated his whole ethics. Therefore, put very shortly, we could say that, for Bonhoeffer, his resistance was a question of living in accordance with the Christ reality; it was a question of being Christ for the other. In being Christ for the other, one sets oneself aside and enters a path where one surrenders oneself to God. It is a path that one follows in a willingness to carry guilt for the other, but it is also a burden, which is too heavy to bear by oneself. Therefore, it is only because of Bonhoeffer’s deep conviction that the inner mystery of dort, wo der Gehorsam aufhört Verantwortung anfängt, sondern in Verantwortung Gehorsam geleistet wird” (Bonhoeffer 1992, 287). a journey from pacifism to resistance 169 reality is Christ himself. Only in this understanding that, in the deepest suffering, one is never separate from Christ, can one lift the burden that eventually Bonhoeffer did. This is where one fi nds the strength to accept the responsibility to represent the other and be willing to both carry the burden of the other, and the willingness to carry the guilt that one’s actions may entail. In this deep understanding of the Christological mystery within reality, both Bonhoeffer’s understanding of pacifi sm and his understanding of the necessity of resistance led him to the cross of Christ.

Summary

In Dietrich Bonhoeffer, his life and theology are so closely intertwined that one cannot be understood separately from the other. Bonhoeffer’s life has been described in three phases, as theologian, Christian, and as contemporary. These three phases are refl ected in his views on pacifi sm. In the fi rst phase, Bonhoeffer does not refl ect very much on these issues. As he becomes a Christian, he suddenly sees the Sermon on the Mount in a new light. Jesus’ call to the Christians to love their enemies leads Bonhoeffer into advocating pacifi sm. The pacifi sm may be seen as a Christian witness. In the third phase of his life, as he becomes a contemporary, he fi nds it necessary in extreme situations to take an active stance against a perverted regime. This resistance may be seen as the Christian’s being Christ for the other.

References

Abercrombie, Clarence L. 1973. “Barth and Bonhoeffer: Resistance to the Unjust State.” Religion in Life 42, (1973): 344–360. Bethge, Eberhard. 1982. “Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom ‘Pazifi smus’ Zur Verschwörung.” In Frieden—Das Unumgängliche Wagnis, 119–136. München: Chr Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1999. “Living in Opposition.” In Refl ections on Bonhoeffer, 25–31. Chicago: Cov- enant Pubns. ——. 2004. Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Eine Biographie. 8, korrigierte Aufl age. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. 1991. Barcelona, Berlin, Amerika. 1928–1931. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 10 (DBW 10). Herausgegen von Reinhart Staats und Hans Christoph von Hase in Zusammenarbeit mit Holger Roggelin und Matthias Wüsnche. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1992. Ethik. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 6 (DBW 6). Herausgegeben von Ilse Tödt, Heinz Eduard Tödt, Ernst Feil und Clifford Green. (Second ed. 1998). Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. 170 ulrik b. nissen

——. 1994a. London. 1933–1935. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 13 (DBW 13). Heraus- gegeben von Hans Goedeking, Martin Heimbucher und Hans-Walter Schleiker. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1994b. Nachfolge. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 4 (DBW 4). Herausgegeben von Martin Kuske und Ilse Tödt. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1996. Illegale Theologenausbildung: Finkenwalde 1935–1937. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 14 (DBW 14). Herausgegeben von Otto Dudzus und Jürgen Henkys in Zusam- menarbeit mit Sabine Bobert-Stützel, Dirk Schulz und Ilse Tödt. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1997. Berlin. 1932–1933. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 12 (DBW 12). Heraus- gegeben von Carsten Nicolaisen und Ernst-Albert Scharffenorth. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 1998. Illegale Theologenausbildung: Sammelvikariate 1937–1940. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 15 (DBW 15). Herausgegeben von Dirk Schulz. Gütersloh: Chr. Kaiser Verlag. ——. 2001. Discipleship. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Volume 4 (DBWE 4). Translated from the German Edition. English Edition Edited by Geffrey B. Kelly and John D. Godsey. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. ——. 2005. Ethics. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Volume 6 (DBWE 6). Translated from the German Edition. English Edition Edited by Clifford J. Green. Translated by Reinhard Krauss, Charles C. West, and Douglas W. Stott. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. ——. 2007. London: 1933–1935. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works, Volume 13 (DBWE 13). Trans- lated from the German Edition. English Edition Edited by Keith Clements. Translated by Isabel Best. Minneapolis: Fortress Press. Chandler, Andrew. 1998. The Terrible Alternative: Christian Martyrdom in the Twentieth Century. London: Cassell. Chapman, G. Clarke, Jr. 1989. “What would Bonhoeffer Say to Christian Peacemakers Today.” In Theology, Politics and Peace, 167–175. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books. Clements, Keith W. 1999. Ecumenical Witness for Peace 1999. De Gruchy, John W. 1981. “Bonhoeffer, Calvinism and Christian Civil Disobedience in South Africa.” In Scottish Journal of Theology 34, no. 3 (1981): 245–262. Dembowski, Hermann. 1999. “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Vom Paziﬁ sten Zum Widerstands- kämpfer.” In Theology & Corporate Conscience, 79–94. Minneapolis, Minn: Kirk House Publishers. Dramm, Sabine. 2005. V-Mann Gottes Un Der Abwehr?. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Und Der Wider- stand. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verl.-Haus. Elford, R. John. 2001. “Christianity and War”. In The Cambridge Companion to Christian Ethics, ed. Robin Gill, 171–82. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Ford, Charles E. 1993. “Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Resistance, and the Two Kingdoms.” Lutheran Forum 27, (08//, 1993): 28–34. Glenthøj, Jørgen. 1981. “Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Way between Resistance and Submis- sion.” In Bonhoeffer Legacy, 170–177. Grand Rapids, Mich: Eerdmans Publ Co. ——. 1992. “Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom Paziﬁ smus Zum Politischen Widerstand.” In Dietrich Bonhoeffer Heute, 41–57. Giessen, Germany: Brunnen. Green, Clifford. 1999. Bonhoeffer. A Theology of Sociality. Revised edition (First edition 1972). Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publ Co. Hauerwas, Stanley. 2004. Performing the Faith. Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence. London: SPCK. Haynes, Stephen R. 2004. The Bonhoeffer Phenomenon. Portraits of a Protestant Saint. Min- neapolis, Minn.: Augsburg Fortress. Kelly, Geffrey B. 1982. “Reality and Resistance: Thoughts for the Churches on the Ethical Issues of ‘Modern’ Warfare.” Covenant Quarterly 40, (11//, 1982): 3–15. ——. 1997. “Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945): A Witness to Christian Faith in the Nazi Era.” Fides Et Historia 29, (1997): 11–22. a journey from pacifism to resistance 171

Klemperer, Klemens von. 1998. “Totalitarianism and Resistance in Germany: Dietrich Bonhoeffer.” In Terrible Alternative, 81–101. London: Cassell. ——. 1999. “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Confession and Resistance.” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 53, no. 1–2 (1999): 47–59. Lasserre, Jean. 1972. “Interview with Jean Lasserre.” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 27, (1972): 149–160. Lehmann, Paul L. 1983. “Piety, Power, and Politics: Church and Ministry between Ratifi cation and Resistance.” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa no. 44 (09//, 1983): 58–72. Lovin, Robin W. 1981. “The Christian and the Authority of the State: Bonhoeffer’s Reluctant Revisions.” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa no. 34 (03//, 1981): 32–48. McGrath, Alister E. 1993. Reformation Thought. An Introduction. Second Edition (First edition 1988). Oxford, UK and Cambridge, USA: Blackwell. Mohaupt, Lutz. 1986. “Zwischen Pazifi smus Und Verschwörung: Gerechtigkeit Und Schult Im Denken Dietrich Bonhoeffers.” Luther 57, no. 3 (1986): 127–143. Nation, Mark. 1991. “ ‘Pacifi st and Enemy of the State’: Bonhoeffer‘s ‘Straight and Unbroken Course’ from Costly Discipleship to Conspiracy.” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa no. 77 (12//, 1991): 61–77. ——. 1999. “Discipleship in a World Full of Nazis: Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Polyphonic Pacifi sm as Social Ethics.” In Wisdom of the Cross, 249–277. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. ——. 2000. “The First Word Christians have to Say about Violence is ‘Church’: On Bonhoeffer, Baptists, and Becoming a Peace Church”. In Faithfulness and Fortitude, 83–115. Edinburgh: T & T Clark. Nelson, F. Burton. 1985. “The Relationship of Jean Lasserre to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Peace Concerns in the Struggle of Church and Culture.” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 40, no. 1–2 (1985): 71–84. ——. 1999. The Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer 1999. Nissen, Ulrik Becker. 2006. “Disbelief and Christonomy of the World.” Studia Theo- logica, 60 (1), 2006, 91–110. Pangritz, Andreas. 1995. “Dietrich Bonhoeffers Theologische Begründung Der Beteili- gung Am Widerstand.” Evangelische Theologie 55, no. 6 (1995): 491–520. ——. 1997. “Sharing the Destiny of His People.” In Bonhoeffer for a New Day, 258–277. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. ——. 1999. “Theological Motives in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Decision to Participate in Political Resistance”. In Refl ections on Bonhoeffer, 32–49. Chicago: Covenant Pubns. Rasmussen, Larry L. 1972. Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Reality and Resistance. Nashville: Abingdon. ——. 1999. “Bonhoeffer, Gandhi, and Resistance; Bonhoeffer, Gandhi, and Resistance.” In Refl ections on Bonhoeffer, 50–55. Chicago: Covenant Pubns. Scharffenorth, Ernst A. 1978. “Bonhoeffers Pazifi smus; Bonhoeffers Pazifi smus.” in Schöpferische Nachfolge, 363–287. Heidelberg: [s.n.]. Slane, Craig J. 2004. Bonhoeffer as Martyr. Social Responsibility and Modern Christian Com- mitment. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press. Tödt, Heinz Eduard. 1987. “Der Bonhoeffer-Dohnanyi-Kreis in Der Opposition Und Im Widerstand Gegen Das Gewaltregime Hitlers (Zwischenbilanz Eines Forschungs- projekts).” In Präsenz Des Verdrängten Gottes, 205–263. Munich: Chr Kaiser Verlag. Wind, Renate. Dem Rad in Die Speichen Fallen. Die Lebensgeschichte Des Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Weinheim: Beltz. APPENDIX

For further study

The literature on Bonhoeffer’s pacifi sm and resistance is quite extensive. Some of the references discuss his move from pacifi sm to resistance, such as Eberhard Bethge, “Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom “Pazifi smus” Zur Verschwörung; Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom “Pazifi smus” Zur Verschwörung” in Frieden—Das Unumgängliche Wagnis München: Chr Kaiser Verlag, 1982, 1982), 119–136; Hermann Dembowski, “Diet- rich Bonhoeffer: Vom Pazifi sten Zum Widerstandskämpfer; Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Vom Pazifi sten Zum Widerstandskämpfer” in Theology & Corporate Conscience Minneapolis, Minn: Kirk House Publishers, 1999, 1999), 79–94; Jørgen Glenthøj, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Way between Resistance and Submission; Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Way between Resis- tance and Submission” in Bonhoeffer Legacy (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Publ Co, 1981), 170–177; Jørgen Glenthøj, “Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom Pazifi smus Zum Politischen Widerstand; Dietrich Bonhoeffers Weg Vom Pazifi smus Zum Politischen Widerstand” in Dietrich Bonhoeffer Heute Giessen, Germany: Brunnen, 1992, 1992), 41–57; Lutz Mohaupt, “Zwischen Pazifi smus Und Verschwörung: Gerechtigkeit Und Schult Im Denken Dietrich Bonhoeffers,” Luther 57, no. 3 (1986), 127–143; Larry L. Rasmussen, “Bonhoeffer, Gandhi, and Resistance; Bonhoeffer, Gandhi, and Resistance” in Refl ections on Bonhoeffer (Chicago: Covenant Pubns, 1999), 50–55. Other works focus on his pacifi sm G. Clarke Chapman Jr, “What would Bonhoeffer Say to Christian Peacemakers Today; what would Bonhoeffer Say to Christian Peacemakers Today” in Theology, Politics and Peace Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1989), 167–175; Keith W. Clements, Ecumenical Witness for Peace, 1999), 154–172; Hauerwas, Performing the Faith. Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2004); Mark Nation, “The First Word Christians have to Say about Violence is ‘Church’: On Bonhoeffer, Baptists, and Becoming a Peace Church; the First Word Christians have to Say about Violence is ‘Church’: On Bonhoeffer, Baptists, and Becoming a Peace Church” in Faithfulness and Fortitude (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2000), 83–115; Mark Nation, “Discipleship in a World Full of Nazis: Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s appendix 173

Polyphonic Pacifi sm as Social Ethics; Discipleship in a World Full of Nazis: Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Polyphonic Pacifi sm as Social Ethics” in Wisdom of the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 249–277; Mark Nation, “Pacifi st and Enemy of the State”: Bonhoeffer’s “Straight and Unbroken Course” from Costly Discipleship to Conspiracy,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa, no. 77 (12//, 1991), 61–77; Nelson, The Relationship of Jean Lasserre to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Peace Concerns in the Struggle of Church and Culture, 71–84; Ernst A. Scharffenorth, “Bonhoeffers Pazifi smus; Bonhoeffers Pazifi smus” in Schöpferische Nachfolge Heidelberg: [s.n.], 1978, 1978), 363–287. Other contributions analyze his arguments for the resistance Clarence L. Abercrombie, “Barth and Bonhoeffer: Resistance to the Unjust State,” Religion in Life 42 (1973), 344–360; Eberhard Bethge, “Living in Opposi- tion; Living in Opposition” in Refl ections on Bonhoeffer (Chicago: Covenant Pubns, 1999), 25–31; John W. De Gruchy, “Bonhoeffer, Calvinism and Christian Civil Disobedience in South Africa,” Scottish Journal of Theology 34, no. 3 (1981), 245–262; Sabine Dramm, V-Mann Gottes Un Der Abwehr?. Dietrich Bonhoeffer Und Der Widerstand (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verl.-Haus, 2005); Charles E. Ford, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the Resistance, and the Two Kingdoms,” Lutheran Forum 27 (08//, 1993), 28–34; Geffrey B. Kelly, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945): A Witness to Christian Faith in the Nazi Era,” Fides Et Historia 29 (1997), 11–22; Geffrey B. Kelly, “Reality and Resistance: Thoughts for the Churches on the Ethical Issues of “Modern” Warfare,” Covenant Quarterly 40 (11//, 1982), 3–15; Klemens von Klemperer, “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Confession and Resistance,” Union Seminary Quarterly Review 53, no. 1–2 (1999), 47–59; Klemens von Klem- perer, “Totalitarianism and Resistance in Germany: Dietrich Bonhoeffer; Totalitarianism and Resistance in Germany: Dietrich Bonhoeffer” in Terrible Alternative (London: Cassell, 1998), 81–101; Paul L. Lehmann, “Piety, Power, and Politics: Church and Ministry between Ratifi cation and Resistance,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa, no. 44 (09//, 1983), 58–72; Robin W. Lovin, “The Christian and the Authority of the State: Bonhoeffer’s Reluctant Revisions,” Journal of Theology for Southern Africa, no. 34 (03//, 1981), 32–48; Andreas Pangritz, “Theological Motives in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Decision to Participate in Political Resistance; Theological Motives in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Decision to Participate in Political Resistance” in Refl ections on Bonhoeffer (Chicago: Covenant Pubns, 1999), 32–49; Andreas Pangritz, “Sharing the Destiny of His People; Sharing the Destiny of His People” in Bonhoeffer for a New Day (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 258–277; Andreas Pangritz, 174 ulrik b. nissen

“Dietrich Bonhoeffers Theologische Begründung Der Beteiligung Am Widerstand,” Evangelische Theologie 55, no. 6 (1995), 491–520; Larry L. Rasmussen, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Reality and Resistance (Nashville: Abingdon, 1972); Renate Wind, Dem Rad in Die Speichen Fallen. Die Lebensgeschichte Des Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Weinheim: Beltz & Gelberg, 1994); Heinz Eduard Tödt, “Der Bonhoeffer-Dohnanyi-Kreis in Der Opposition Und Im Widerstand Gegen Das Gewaltregime Hitlers (Zwischenbilanz Eines Forschungsprojekts); Der Bonhoeffer-Dohnanyi-Kreis in Der Opposition Und Im Widerstand Gegen Das Gewaltregime Hitlers (Zwischenbilanz Eines Forschungsprojekts)” in Präsenz Des Verdrängten Gottes (Münich: Chr Kaiser Verlag, 1987), 205–263. Lastly, some works discuss the role Bonhoeffer had in dying for this cause: Andrew Chandler, The Terrible Alternative: Christian Martyrdom in the Twentieth Century (London: Cassell, 1998); Stephen R. Haynes, The Bonhoeffer Phenomenon. Portraits of a Protestant Saint (Minneapolis, Minn.: Augsburg Fortress, 2004); Craig J. Slane, Bonhoeffer as Martyr. Social Responsibility and Modern Christian Commitment (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2004). Here one especially ﬁ nds a discussion on Bonhoeffer’s role as a martyr. CHAPTER SEVEN

PAUL GERHARD BRAUNE: THE LEGACY OF HIS RESISTANCE TO EUTHANASIA1

Ole J. Hartling

Paul Gerhard Braune, b Tornow 1887, q as a theologian 1912, d 1954 at Lobetal. Braune studied theology in Halle and Berlin. In 1913 he was appointed a clergyman at Hohenkränig. 1922 he became the Rector and Director of the Hoffnungstal Institutions at Lobetal near Berlin, where he remained until his death. Braune strongly opposed the Nazi euthanasia programme, and became most famous for the memorandum that he sent to Hitler in July 1940 (“Denkschrift für Adolf Hitler”) in which he presented unassailable evidence of the Nazi killings of handicapped inmates of German institutions. Due to the memorandum Braune was imprisoned for three months, but open charges were never pressed. He continued his resistance but less openly so, and during and after the war he carried on his work for the handicapped people of the institutions he directed.

“Well, Gentlemen, this is the document that Gestapo is interested in!” (Braune, B. 1989, 79),2 said Braune, taking some sheets of paper from a drawer. He handed them to the leading police offi cer. Braune had silently been watching the policemen ransacking his offi ce in the rectory of Lobetal. They had pulled out papers dealing with the Confessing Church,3 the Association of Asylums, etc., and had been working at it for about an hour. The police offi cer took the papers and sat down. Absorbed in reading, he muttered: “But this cannot be possible!” (Braune, B. 1989, 79).4 Having fi nished, he stood up, put his hand on Braune’s elbow and

1 The article is based on mainly four sources: (Braune, B. 1989; Burleigh 1994; Foss 1988; Cantow and Kaiser 2005—including contributions by the three sons of Paul Gerhard Braune: Martin, Werner, and Paul). 2 My translation. “So meine Herren, für dieses Schriftstück interessiert sich die Gestapo.” 3 German: ‘Bekennende Kirche’; the ‘Confessing Church’ was a collective term of the organised resistance of clergymen and churches to the Nazi dominated State Church of Germany 1933–45. 4 My translation. “Das ist doch wohl nicht möglich!”. 176 ole j. hartling led him to the waiting car outside. Pastor Paul Gerhard Braune was arrested on 12 August 1940 by the police at the order of Gestapo. For about three months, he was kept in “protective custody” in the Prinz- Albrecht-Strasse prison in Berlin. The document was his memorandum—“Denkschrift für Adolf Hit- ler”—re: “Systematic Transfer of Inmates from Asylums and Homes.”5 The name of Paul Gerhard Braune will always be linked with his brave resistance to the Nazi killings of the so-called “lives unworthy of life”.

Biography

Paul Gerhard Braune was born in Germany on 16 December 1887, the sixth child of a clergyman. His birthplace was the village of Tor- now in the district of Landsberg an der Warthe. Today, the region belongs to Poland. It was a harmonious childhood home, and Braune always cherished it in his memory with the deepest gratitude (Braune, M. 2005, 17). Three of the sons studied theology, and, from his 15th year, Braune knew that he would also be a clergyman. In 1906, he commenced his studies of theology. He spent one term at Bethel, the location of the renowned protestant institution for mentally handicapped. This teaching in ‘living and practical’ Christianity made a lasting impression on him. Braune qualiﬁ ed as a theologian at the age of 25. For one year, 1912–13, he served as a chaplain among military recruits in Berlin, and he was ordained as a clergyman while being a soldier. In October 1913, he took up his ﬁ rst appointment as a clergyman at Hohenkränig that comprised three parishes. For the next nine years, he was engaged in the parochial life of the village only interrupted by a period in May—December 1918, where he volunteered as locum for a clergyman that had been conscripted but had sought someone to substitute him. In the course of the Hohenkränig years, he was offered a number of other appointments and declined them all. However in January 1922, he received a letter from Pastor Friedrich von Bodelschwingh of the famous Bethel establishment at Bielefeld asking him to consider being in charge of the Hoffnungstal

5 See ‘Appendix’ for a shortened version in English. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 177

Institutions at Lobetal near Berlin. Without hesitation Braune accepted the appointment. In his memoirs, he recalls two motives for his decision. One was that I knew Bethel and loved it, a community full of life, and a town of mercy. So I thought that Hoffnungstal would be similar, i.e. a community of living, and devoted Christians that not only wanted to beneﬁ t, but also wanted themselves to contribute. The other motivation was that I wanted to help the needy people (Braune, P. 2005).6 He began his work in May 1922, and for 32 years—from 1922 until his death in 1954—Braune was the rector and the director of the Hoffnungstal Institutions. In addition, he was the mayor of the Lobetal community. Braune was a quiet but simultaneously a charismatic and highly respected leader of the institutions, which, under his leadership, developed and expanded in the course of the 1930’s to become one of the largest ecclesiastical institutions in the Berlin-Brandenburg region. Here, the handicapped, the suppressed minorities, the forgotten, and the homeless were looked after. Before, during and after the war, Braune was one of the leading personalities within the Inner Mission.7 For a long period, he was a vice president of its central board (Braune, W. 2005, 73ff.). Through this position, he took part in the current debate of the community, and from the several institutions and asylums run by the Inner Mission he was able to collect the heavy evidence of the euthanasia program from its very beginning. Braune was arrested on 12 August 1940 and detained for almost three months. Then all of a sudden, on 31 October 1940, he was released from the prison. A warrant for the arrest had never been presented. There was no doubt that the cause of the detainment was the euthanasia memorandum, but the Gestapo never admitted it (Braune, B. 1989, 83). Braune had to sign the usual declaration of loyalty including a promise not to obstruct state affairs (Braune, W. 2005, 87). Afterwards,

6 My translation. “Der eine, ich kannte Bethel und liebte es, die lebendige Gemeinde, die Stadt der Barmherzigkeit. So dachte ich, Hoffnungstal wird ähnlich sein, also auch eine Gemeinde lebendiger, bewußter Christen, die nicht nur getragen werden wollen, sondern die auch mit tragen. Und der andere Grund: Ich wollte Menschen helfen, die in Not sind.”. 7 Inner Mission in Germany is a branch of the Protestant church. It is a pietistic movement and has always been quite institutionalized thus being in charge of asylums, nursing homes, etc. 178 ole j. hartling

Braune told that he had been treated reasonably well, but still it was a strain, and already at that time he had trouble with his heart. At the end of August, while he was still in prison, his wife, Berta, gave birth to their fourth child. In the course of his imprisonment, he wrote his autobiography for the family. In November 1940, Gestapo returned all the confi scated papers, meticulously fi led—including the memorandum on euthanasia. During the rest of the war Braune did not speak overtly against the Nazi regime, but he moved on the edge of defi ance. Using various excuses, he refused to fi ll in forms to register the inhabitants of the homes of which he was in charge. For example he renamed an asylum, so that it did not appear as a home for mentally handicapped but rather as an “institution for vulnerable girls and women”. Likewise, he assured that three women whom had been selected for transfer to be killed did in fact not live in the institution anymore, and he added the (false) statement that the three women in question had in fact turned out not to be mentally ill. Indeed, no patients were ever transferred from the Hoffnungstal Institutions to any of the killing centers (Kaminsky 2005, 132ff.). After the time of liberation in 1945, the Institutions were looted. Almost all movables were removed. Cattle were stolen from the stables. Bed linen, blankets, food, everything disappeared. Braune and his staff rebuilt and reinstalled the institutions, and he succeeded in keeping the Hoffnungstal institutions under the Inner Mission. More generally, he took care of the reconstruction and management of the ecclesiastical institutions in East Germany during the DDR regime (Braune, W. 2005, 88ff.). Braune married twice. His fi rst wife was Gretel Walther, whom he had married 13 October 1913. She bore him no children, and died in 1932—ten years after the couple had moved to Lobetal. In the same year, a teacher of a new school in the Hoffnungstaler Institutions was sought, and newly qualifi ed Berta Mohr received a request to consider an appointment. She agreed to an interview and was immediately fascinated by the place, and by the responsive and sympathetic Pastor Braune. In her autobiography (Braune, B. 1989, 36–37), Berta Braune recalls that she was not interested in marrying a man sixteen years her senior. After some time, however, she returned his love and accepted his proposal. She saw it as a gift of God and a call to work in Lobetal. The couple had four children: Gretel, Martin, Werner, and Paul. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 179

Braune died 19 September 1954, one month after a serious heart attack. In May of the same year, he had conﬁ rmed his youngest son. After the death of her husband, Berta Braune left Lobetal in December 1954 and moved to Berlin.

The euthanasia propaganda

In 1920, Binding and Hoche had published their inﬂ uential tract, “Per- mission to Destroy Life Unworthy of Life” (Binding and Hoche 1920). Karl Binding was a leading specialist in constitutional and criminal jurisprudence at the universities of Heidelberg, Freiburg, Strassburg and Leipzig. Alfred Hoche was a professor of psychiatry at Freiburg. Their writings coined the term ‘life unworthy of life’ (‘lebensunwertes Leben’). This term continued to be the rallying cry for the supporters of Nazi Germany’s euthanasia program that came into gruesome action from 1939 and to the end of the war. ‘Life unworthy of life’ expressed the overall and unremitting justiﬁ cation of the euthanasia operations in Nazi Germany. Their tract became a poignant articulation and thereby the culmina- tion of the growing acceptance of euthanasia as a means of eugenics or so-called Social Darwinism. A starting point was the concept that every individual had sovereign powers to choose his or her own death, but they also put the question: Is there human life which has so far forfeited the character of something entitled to enjoy the protection of the law, that its prolongation represents a perpetual loss of value, both for its bearer and for society as a whole? They included in this category “idiots” that were “not merely worth- less, but actually existences of negative value.” The authors regarded euthanasia as an “act of healing” for the doctor to bring about a person’s death, if it spared that person protracted suffering. Moreover, since “idiots” allegedly had no will to live, killing them could not be regarded as an infringement of their will. Their life is absolutely pointless, but they do not regard it as being unbearable. They are a terrible, heavy burden upon their relatives and society as a whole. Their death would not create even the smallest gap—except perhaps in the feelings of their mothers or loyal nurses. According to Binding and Hoche, these subjects were a “travesty of real human beings, occasioning disgust in anyone who encounters them.” 180 ole j. hartling

The authors actually claimed that death would spare idiots the humiliation of “having to run the gauntlet of other people’s cruel jokes and obloquy” (Binding and Hoche 1920, 17–18). Although Binding and Hoche were met with criticism, they had several followers. The Social Darwinistic views presented in their tract were shared and cultivated by other proponents, and paved the way for an increasing contempt for mental patients. After the Nazi regime had taken over in 1933, the idea of killing the ‘incurable’ began to be incorporated into the emerging therapeutic strategy. It became a widely accepted argument—also in the lay population—that it was necessary to cut down expenditure on ‘useless lives’. Feebleminded persons were described as ‘useless eaters’ (‘unnütze Esser’). ( Jensch 1990). When the Nazis wielded power and particularly after the beginning of the war, humanitarian concerns could even more easily be put aside for economic reasons and with reference to the needs of soldiers and productive citizens. These arguments were reinforced by propaganda smearing mentally handicapped people as loath- some burdens on the healthy population. The asylum at Eglfi ng-Haar near Munich, for example, became a kind of freak show for members of Nazi organizations who could see for themselves the sub-human characteristics of the patients (Nicholls 1995). Propaganda fi lms were produced depicting the poor, mentally handicapped humans. They were exposed in a degrading manner to induce disgust in the onlookers. The movie “I accuse” (“Ich klage an”) from 1941 deserves particular mentioning for two reasons. One is that this fi lm differs from the other more documentary fi lms because it is less primitive, and because it is almost devoid of any references to the immediate political context. The other is that Braune referred to it more than once e.g. in a much later debate on euthanasia in 1950. The talented Wolfgang Liebeneiner directed the fi lm. It describes a devoted husband—a successful professor—who kills his wife out of mercy in the end stage of multiple sclerosis on her earnest request. The wife expresses her relief, and they both affi rm their undying love in a three-minute long dying scene. In the subsequent court case, the husband accuses the system and the outdated laws that will not permit deliverance for thousands of suffering people—“I accuse”. He is supported by his friend, Dr. Lang, a medical doctor who has once saved a child that is now a deaf and blind idiot. Thus the questions of voluntary and involuntary euthanasia were deliberately confl ated—see below under “Parallels to the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 181 today”. According to Braune, a large number of the movie’s audience uncritically subscribed to its message that euthanasia was a humane and painless way to put an end to misery (Braune 1989, 72–73).

The killings through ‘Aktion T-4’

A law on eugenics including sterilization of persons with hereditary diseases (‘Erbkranken’) had been adopted in December 1933 (“Gesetz zur Verhütung erbkranken Nachwuchses”). In the discussions within the central board of the Inner Mission in March 1933, Braune had fervently dissented from this law: . . . Everything in me is against the sterilization. [. . .] Only a purely materialistic attitude and ﬁ scal considerations would claim such a law. I denounce sterilization in every case in the same way as I denounce any claim to eliminate hopelessly ill people from their life. From our Christian work of love, we must only claim the law of protection and exclude all other possibilities such as sterilization, euthanasia, etc. (Kaminsky 2005, 115–16).8 In contrast to sterilization, euthanasia was never legalized in Germany. Initiatives to revise the criminal code were, however, taken, and, in 1939, a draft to a law, which would sanction euthanasia, was outlined and sent to the KdF (“Kanzlei des Führes”; Chancellery of the Führer). However, since the law was never adopted, euthanasia was never permitted—not even from a legal point of view. On 18 August 1939, the “Reich Committee” simply ordered the compulsory registering of all ‘malformed’ newborn children (Burleigh 1994, 98, 109; Jensch 1990).9 Doctors and midwives were paid 2RMs for each case reported having e.g. Down’s syndrome, microcephaly, hydrocephaly, idiocy, spastic paralysis, and physical deformities such as the absence of a limb. The Committee decided whether children were eligible for euthanasia, and

8 My translation. “Es wehrt sich in mir alles gegen die Sterilisierung [. . .] Nur eine rein materialistische Anschauung und fi skalische Rücksichten könne ein solches Gesetz fordern. Ich verneine die Sterilisierung in jedem Fall, ebenso wie ich ablehnend den Forderungen, hoffnungslos kranke Menschen aus dem Leben auszuschalten, gegen- überstehe.—Wir von unserer christlichen Liebesarbeit aus müssen nur das Bewah- rungsgesetz fordern, aber alle anderen Möglichkeiten wie Sterilisierung, Euthanasie usw. ausschalten.” 9 In 1939 a “Reich Committee for the scientifi c research of serious hereditary and congenital illnesses” was formed and based in the KdF. The term ‘scientifi c research etc.’ was a cover-up for its real purpose. 182 ole j. hartling established some thirty paediatric clinics e.g. Brandenburg-Görden, to which children were transported and killed with tablets or injections. Parents might receive information that their child had died from e.g. pneumonia. This was the start of the huge process of clandestine killings that ensued (Burleigh 1994, 98, 109; Jensch 1990). In October 1939, Adolf Hitler sent a personal note (it was backdated to 1 September—the day of the beginning of the Second World War), in which he commissioned the medical doctors Philipp Bouhler and Karl Brandt to grant a ‘mercy death’ (‘Gnadentod’)10 to incurably ill persons.11 This was no legal sanction but it led to the infamous ‘Aktion T-4’, which was the codename of the euthanasia program because the operational center was situated in an unobtrusive suburban villa at Tiergartenstrasse 4 in Berlin. Asylums were expropriated and rebuilt to meet the requirements of the killing program. For example, the asylum of Grafeneck was expropriated from the Inner Mission by the authorities in October 1939. Gas chambers were installed at Grafeneck and in the other killing centers: Bernburg, Brandenburg, Hadamar, Hartheim, and Sonnenstein. The job of part of the staff was to fake causes of death and to issue death certifi cates and perfunctory letters of condolences to the relatives. The employed doctors had a list of sixty-one causes of death, complete with all the likely symptoms and forms of treatment. The person’s age and physical condition were matched with a plausible cause of death. T-4 equipped the centers with the necessary information, e.g. under the heading “Pneumonia”: “Pneumonia is an ideal cause of death for our action, because the population at large always regards this as a critical illness. [. . .] Pneumonia can occur in every age group and in both sexes. In the case of young and fi t individuals, one simply has to calculate a somewhat longer duration than in the case of elderly and frail patients.”

10 According to (Foss 1988, 34), the humane expression ‘Gnadentod’ (‘mercy death’) was used for the ﬁ rst time in the SS-organ “Schwarzes Korps” 11 March 1937. The term has become repugnant since the Nazi regime even though it originally would suggest deliverance from pain and suffering, and not executions and murder. 11 The note, which was personally signed by Hitler, went: “Reichsleiter Bouhler und Dr. med. Brandt sind unter Verantwortung beauftragt, die Befugnisse namentlich zu bestimmender Ärzte so zu erweitern, dass nach menschlichen Ermessen unheilbar Kranken bei kritischer Beurteilung ihres Krankheitszustandes der Gnadentod gewährt werden kann.” Presented in facsimile in (Foss 1988, 37). the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 183

Letters of condolence sent to the relatives were more or less identical except for different ‘causes’ of death.12 A typical letter runs: Dear Frau NN. On 13 March 1941 your husband Ernst U. was transferred to our asylum, in accordance with a ministerial decree issued on the instructions of the Reich Defence Commissar. This measure took place in the context of the current military situation. We regret to have to inform you that the patient died suddenly and unexpectedly of acute meningitis on 24 March 1941. Almost invariably a phrase like the following was included: Since your husband suffered from a grave and incurable mental illness, you must regard his death as a form of deliverance. Moreover, the relatives were informed that cremation had been performed immediately to prevent contagious diseases, but that the urn could be sent on request (Foss 1988, 46; Burleigh 1994, 151–52; Jensch 1990). In the course of the ‘Aktion T-4’ from 1940 to 1941 at least 70,000 (Foss 1988, 44; Burleigh 1994, 160; Jensch 1990) were murdered, and in the course of the whole Nazi period perhaps more than 200,000 patients in German mental asylums and clinics were murdered (Foss 1988, 38; Jensch 1990).13 However, suspicion was rising. Relatives received urns with ashes that obviously did not stem from the deceased e.g. because hairpins cropped up in the ashes from males. Or they were told that a child had died from appendicitis although that organ had been removed years earlier. So even if immense pains were taken to keep T-4’s operations secret, it soon became widely known what was going on. It was told that villagers pointed to the asylum simply stating: “That’s where you will be killed.” (“dort wird man getötet”) or that workers repairing the road below the asylum of Grafeneck removed their hats and stood in silence whenever a train carrying patients passed through (Burleigh 1994, 162–63).

12 In the KdF these letters were cynically named ‘Trostbriefe’. 13 By order of Hitler 16 August 1941 the killings of patients in gas chambers were stopped, but the murders continued in several institutions, where patients were starved to death and poisoned (Burleigh 1994, 238–66; Jensch 1990). The reason for the halt of the euthanasia program was probably not only the rising public protests but rather the more disturbing one that the team of practised murderers and gas chamber experts were needed elsewhere for vaster enormities i.e. in the concentration camps (Burleigh 1994, 180; Jensch 1990). 184 ole j. hartling

Asylum doctors received registration forms (‘Meldebogen’) in which they were to register the patients, their diagnoses, the duration of stay, their labour potential, etc. The purpose of these forms was given as ‘economic planning’. Completed forms were sent back to the T-4 headquarters. Some doctors suspected that something was amiss. The question concerning how many visitors patients received e.g. caused suspicion. Later when many had realized the real purpose of the registration, a few doctors and directors refused to return the forms. More common was passive resistance through deliberate incompetence, procrastination or pedantry in fi lling out the forms. Little did it help; T-4 simply dispatched roving teams of Nazi doctors and helpers that worked more expeditiously (Burleigh 1994, 137). After the registration forms had been returned, T-4 told the asylums to prepare a number of patients for transfer. The purpose of the transfer was to separate the patients from their relatives and carers, so that they could be exterminated in secluded places. Patients were collected and transferred to the gas chambers in Hadamar, Hartheim, Sonnenstein, etc. Rumours about what really happened to the patients gradually changed into certain knowledge even among the patients. Pitiful scenes took place among those who had to go (Die Zeit 1986a). They knew that they would not come back. They cried and begged for their lives. Burleigh recounts: “At the Elisabeth Foundation at Lauingen in Swabia the asylum priest held a service of general absolution the night before the fi rst transport”. A patient ran down the choir screaming “we are all going to be killed” (Burleigh 1994, 142). A daughter sends a touching letter to her father, beginning: Unfortunately it cannot be otherwise. Today, I must write the words of farewell as I leave this earthly life for an eternal home. She sends greetings to all of her family ending by the words: “See you again good father in heaven.” This letter was smuggled out of the asylum. The father contacted the asylum, but he was too late. A letter confi rming that his daughter should not be transferred arrived shortly after a letter informing the family of her death in Brandenburg because of “breathing problems” (Burleigh 1994, 143). Half of the victims in the euthanasia program originated from ecclesiastical institutions. The Protestant Inner Mission alone had 512 asylums and homes with beds for about 35,000 people. Many of the leaders fell for the Social Darwinistic propaganda and complied with the demands for registration forms and patient transfer. Many were the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 185 reluctant and offered some passive resistance as mentioned above, but there were a few exceptions. The most outstanding of those was Paul Gerhard Braune of Lobetal.

Paul Braune’s resistance

As mentioned above, Braune had been opposing the law on sterilization for hereditary diseases—fi rst and foremost imbecility—in 1933. Now, he was appalled by the rumours, which rose to certainty, that patients were being transferred and murdered elsewhere at special centers. The fact that the death of inmates was usually reported shortly after a transfer from an asylum frightened relatives and staff members at the institution. One particular transport of 13 epileptics from the institution of Pfi ngstweide to Grafeneck on 1 February 1940 led to a report to the Central Board of the Inner Mission. The Board decided that Braune should investigate the amassing information of deaths in the institutions. Braune began his operations straight away. In the following days, he made several trips to Berlin, often accompanied by the immensely infl u- ential Pastor Friedrich von Bodelschwingh of Bethel (Kaminsky 2005, 122ff.). For example, they visited the recently retired Berlin professor in psychiatry, Karl Bonhoeffer, (the father of Dietrich Bonhoeffer) and his assistant, Dr. Heinrich Schulte, both acquaintances of Braune, and presented his preliminary material. From their own knowledge, they were able to confi rm specifi c cases. Braune was even supported at the city council of Berlin where they had only an inkling of what was going on, and they would try to call back specifi c transfer cases. Braune had himself received an order to transfer 25 feeble-minded girls in his charge from the institution “Gottesschutz” at Erkner on 4 May 1940. The transfer was at fi rst delayed until 11 May, and then the leader of the transport probably after persuasion by Braune seems to have turned a blind eye to the hiding and keeping of the girls in the institution (Kaminsky 2005, 132–33). Braune was throughout supported in his efforts by Bodelschwingh. Together, they continued to collect evidence, and they addressed some of the people that they knew within the apparatus of the state. Thus, at the end of May, they told Professor M.H. Göring at the Institut of Psychological and Psychiatric Research. He was a second cousin of Herman Göring. They hoped they could make themselves heard since 186 ole j. hartling relatives of the family Göring were taken care of at Bethel (Kaminsky 2005, 124, 127; Braune, B. 1989, 70). On 12 June, they visited the Minister of Justice, Franz Gürtner, in his private house in Grünewald.14 Braune recalls: I related the evidence to him for some 25 minutes. I referred to the reported observations and showed some of the so-called letters of condolence that I had at my disposal (Braune 1989, 68). According to Braune, Gürtner was appalled. He was completely ignorant of the whole matter: It is a fateful occasion for the Reich Minister of Justice when from reliable quarters he is told: In your country murders are committed on a regular basis, and you know nothing about it! (Braune 1989, 68; Foss 1988, 50; Burleigh 1994, 170). Gürtner promised to help. Braune and Bodelschwingh also met with the Minister of the Interior and the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs. All of them seemed to support the views of the two institution leaders and like Gürtner, they suggested that Braune put all of the material together in a formal memorandum.15 Braune worked on the memorandum together with Bodelschwingh, but ended up being its sole author. The memorandum was dated 9 July 1940: “Denkschrift für Adolf Hitler” re: “Systematic Transfer of Inmates from Asylums and Homes”.16 On 10 July, Braune and Bodel- schwingh addressed the practical leaders of the T-4, the economist Viktor Brack and the medical doctor Herbert Linden in the Ministry of the Interior. Brack and Linden fi rst denied the whole matter, but since the evidence was indisputable, they referred to the necessity of

14 The sources (Braune, B. 1989; Burleigh 1994; Kaminsky 2005; Foss 1988) do not agree as to the date of the meeting with Gürtner. In (Braune, B. 1989, 68), 12 July is given in agreement with (Burleigh 1994, 170), which mentions that Gürtner had an audience with Braune, Bodelschwingh and the surgeon Sauerbruch a few days after receiving Judge Lothar Kreyssig’s report of the illegal killings on 8 July. However, in (Foss 1988, 50; Kaminsky 2005, 124), 12 June is reported. The latter seems the more plausible since Gürtner was appalled by the notions of Braune, which cannot have been news to him on 12 July, and since he (and others) recommended that Braune drew up a memorandum, a memorandum that Braune had already fi nished around 9 July. 15 Gürtner may have had a vague knowledge of the euthanasia program, but there is no doubt that he had not realized the scale of it, and especially Braune had made a deep impression on him. He sent more than one letter of protest to the KdF until his death in 1941 (Foss 1988, 50). 16 See appendix for shortened version in English. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 187 the war. They fi nally threatened Braune and Bodelschwingh with the Gestapo. Braune included this information in a commentary letter to the memorandum. On 15 July, the memorandum was discussed and approved by the central board of the Inner Mission. The following day the memorandum was handed over to the KdF through the Evangelical Church of Germany, which however formally distanced itself from the contents (Kaminsky 2005, 126). Considering that the church leaders had been informed by reliable people of the T-4 actions, and that unquestionable evidence had been presented to them, their accompanying letter seems surprisingly formal: For your information enclosed please fi nd a transcript of an incoming letter of 15 July from the central board of the German Evangelical Church’s Inner Mission together with all annexes. We submit the matter to you since we are not in the position to verify the statements in detail (Kaminsky 2005, 126; Foss 1988, 52–53).17 Reading this letter, the comment in retrospect from Braune becomes understandable: I knew that the then leadership of the German Church, which had been informed by me, would hardly be ready for an energetic protest against such measures of the State, and hence I was more or less prepared to fi ght alone (Braune 1989, 70; Foss, 53). When Braune was released from prison in October 1940, a colleague of the clergy addressed him in the following way: “Brother Braune, why indeed have you exposed yourself in this way?” (Foss 1988, 56).18 Braune’s memorandum presented unassailable evidence including exact numbers and singular cases mentioning the names of people killed. Braune reported scenes of extreme anguish and fear. He exposed the made-up diagnoses, and the fake letters of condolence. Braune expressed himself in an urbane and offi cial language but, at the same time, his wording was straight and crystal clear. E.g. he spoke about ‘removal’ and ‘extermination’ of the so-called ‘useless eaters’. He mentioned that the inviolability of human life was one of the founding stones of the rule of law, and ended his memorandum by stating that this emergency and crisis had deeply shaken all experts and had ruined

17 My translation. 18 My translation: “Bruder Braune, warum hast du dich auch so exponiert?”. 188 ole j. hartling the peace of many families and had grown into a major looming risk with incalculable consequences. Fourteen days after sending his memorandum, Braune was told that Hitler had seen the memorandum after having been informed by the head of the Reich Chancellery, Hans-Heinrich Lammers. Braune was, however, also told that nothing could be done to stop the ‘arrangements’, but that they would be carried out in a more ‘decent’ way. “What was meant by ‘decent’ was not further explained”, as Braune later put it (Burleigh 1994, 167; Braune, B. 1989, 70).19 The contents of the memorandum were kept secret even within the Inner Mission. On one hand, the leaders of the Inner Mission expected that the killings would be stopped by the authorities as a matter of course and out of pure necessity. On the other hand, they did not want to give the impression that they simultaneously doubted that measures would be taken to this effect. Hence, they did not want to give the impression that they would exert pressure on decisive quarters (Kaminsky 2005, 126). Amazingly, Braune and his friends still trusted the public ofﬁ cers and politicians. Being members of the old establishment, they could not imagine that a responsible government would conceive such murderous plans. Obviously, they could not fathom that they were in fact dealing with criminals within the state apparatus (Burleigh 1994, 166–67, 178; Kaminsky 2005, 138–39). Braune and Bodelschwingh used the codename ‘Maria’ for the Nazi euthanasia program. They urgently tried to prevent the dreadful facts of the killings becoming known within their institutions. That would have created great agitation and apprehension among the inmates. Therefore, they also did not reveal that Pastor Braune was put into ‘protective custody’ let alone the reason for it. However, Braune’s children had picked up the truth, and Berta Braune recalls that to the question from one of them: “Mum, why is dad in prison?” she had answered: “Because he has listened more to our Good Lord than to Adolf Hitler!” (Braune, B. 1989, 80).20 Although the Gestapo never admitted that the memorandum was the cause of the imprisonment, and even repudiated the fact orally and in writing, both Bodelschwingh and Berta Braune were informed to the

19 “Es wurde mir mitgeteilt, daß die Maßnahmen nicht eingestellt werden könnten, wohl aber, daß sie ‘anständig’ durchgeführt werden sollten. Was das Wort ‘anständig‘ hieß, wurde nicht näher erläutert.” 20 My translation. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 189 contrary from several other sources (Braune 1989, 81). It even appeared that the memorandum had been extremely annoying and problematic to the ‘Aktion T-4’ and the Nazi regime. It was imperative for Berta Braune that her husband should know that his arrest was exclusively due to his memorandum and his efforts for the ‘lives unworthy of life’. At a visit to the prison in Berlin just after the birth of her youngest son, Berta Braune wanted to convey this message to her husband, but all the time a Gestapo ofﬁ cial was present. She managed to utter the crucial sentence: “This certainly has to do with ‘Maria’ only!” From that time onwards Braune was deeply reassured and calm knowing that his trials were important and meaningful. He found strength to commence writing his memoirs, and often in his letters to his wife, he said: “You should rather worry about ‘Maria’ ” (Braune, B. 1989, 82).21 There were others who opposed the euthanasia program. Physicians (e.g. at Bethel), lawyers and a few clergymen exhibited passive and more or less active resistance. However, especially the Brandenburg provincial judge Lothar Kreyssig, the Protestant bishop Theophil Wurm and the Catholic bishop of Münster, Clemens August Graf von Galen shall also be mentioned. Kreyssig sent an urgent report to Gürtner on 8 July 1940 dealing with the illegal killings (see footnote 37). Wurm wrote an open letter to the interior minister on 19 July 1940, and, on 3 August 1941, Galen gave a sermon that was afterwards widely distributed, and in which he detailed the killing of patients, including registration, transfers and the deception of relatives. None of the opponents, however, offered such early and unambiguous resistance as did Braune (Burleigh 1994, 166–67). Already in 1934, representatives of Lutheran, Reformed and United Churches among the German Protestant Churches had issued the “Bar- men Declaration” after a synod in Barmen, and with the theologian Karl Barth as writer (Confessio.de 2008). With this declaration, the now emerging ‘Confessing Church’22 demonstrated a disagreement with the ofﬁ cial German Church, which was inclined to comply with the Nazi regime. After all, the resistance to the euthanasia program during the war must be seen on a background of widespread resignation or indifference, which was even amounting to acceptance. Undeniably, the churches

21 My translations. 22 See footnote 3 in this chapter. 190 ole j. hartling did not ﬁ ght back when the weak, the poor, and the helpless people from psychiatric institutions and nursing homes were sent to the gas chambers (Foss 1988, 56). The Catholic Church has prided itself of the famous sermon by von Galen, and deservedly so, but it is often forgotten that, at that time (August 1941), more than 60,000 people had been murdered, and no major opposition had been heard from the Catholic Church for the preceding 19 months. Like the Protes- tants, the Catholics to some extent accepted the state of affairs and had engaged in negotiations. For example a catholic bishop absurdly requested that—since the annihilation of lives unworthy of life could not be avoided—the pastoral care and the sacrament of the last rites should be given to catholic patients before being killed at Grafeneck (Die Zeit 1986b).

Parallels to today

The issue of euthanasia is continuously being debated. In Western countries there are proponents for legalizing euthanasia. Unbearable suffering and respect for autonomy are arguments that are constantly being put forward. In this debate, reference to the Nazi killings of incurably ill people does not seem to be politically correct. Admittedly, eugenic arguments for euthanasia are certainly not put forward today, and according to supporters of legalizing euthanasia it will never run out of control like it did in Germany during the war. Thus euthanasia is maintained to be possible in a controlled way in modern societies that have legalized it e.g. in the Netherlands.23 Nevertheless, it is remarkable that some of the arguments and slo- gans, which were persistently met with in the period between the world wars and in Nazi Germany also prevail in the discussions nowadays. Therefore, after all, it is possible to draw a line from that time. The following examples show striking similarities. The drafted but never adopted Nazi law on euthanasia in 1939 included a ﬁ rst clause, which had a wording not very different from

23 A recent article suggests that the term euthanasia should not be used with regards to current end-of-life care, because the term was “misused” during the Nazi regime (Michalsen and Reinhart 2006). However, the authors fail to suggest another apposite term. “End-of-life care” is imprecise and is no less euphemistic than is euthanasia. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 191 the prerequisites that appear in modern legalisation or submissions for legalization. Clause 1: Whoever is suffering from an incurable or terminal illness which is a major burden to himself and others, can request mercy killing by a doctor, provided it is his express wish and has the approval of a specially empowered doctor (Burleigh 1994, 99). This clause is, however, immediately followed by a second clause: The life of a person, who because of incurable mental illness requires permanent institutionalization and is not able to sustain an independent existence, may be prematurely terminated by medical measures in a painless and covert manner (Burleigh 1994, 99). Thus, in the drafted law, so-called voluntary euthanasia was dovetailed with killing of incompetent patients. The Nazi ideologists that propagated euthanasia for social darwinistic, economical or other materialistic reasons were keen on emphazising the ideas of the fi rst clause so that the second could also be applied (cf. the plot of the above mentioned propaganda movie, “I accuse”). Modern proponents for legalizing euthanasia should, however, be confronted with the logic that “acceptance of the fi rst clause”, so to speak, makes it diffi cult sooner or later to “escape the second clause”. This is so because mercy and compassion can be argued to be motives for euthanasia both in suffering patients that can request it and in suffering patients that cannot request it. “The best interest of the patient” can always be given as motive. The Dutch physician and cardiologist, Richard Fenigsen, after presenting an abundance of evidence of involuntary euthanasia taking place in Holland concluded: Those who contend that it is possible to accept and practice ‘voluntary’ euthanasia and not allow involuntary totally disregard the Dutch reality (Fenigsen 1989). The ideas propagated by Binding and Hoche in the 1920’s had many supporters. Several were in favor of extending to the incurably ill humans what anyone would do for a sick animal. The argument that we treat a suffering animal better than our fellow human beings is also often encountered in the modern debate although it is obvious that this in no way can include so-called voluntary euthanasia, i.e. ‘on request of the animal’. It is so to speak involuntary euthanasia ‘in the best interest of the animal’. 192 ole j. hartling

Even Hitler’s personal note commissioning Brandt and Bouhler to carry out the euthanasia program included some suave phrases that more or less can be met with today: Reichsleiter Bouhler and Dr. med. Brandt are charged with responsibility to extend the powers of speciﬁ c doctors in such a way that, after the most careful assessment of their condition, those suffering from illnesses deemed to be incurable may be granted a mercy death.24 Why is it that heinous crimes of dictatorial regimes are often ‘dressed up’ in smooth words?

Life unworthy of life

First and foremost, the concept of ‘life unworthy of life’ (‘lebenunwertes Leben’) has compelling implications for the contemporary discussion of euthanasia. In today’s wording, ‘unworthiness’ is ‘loss of dignity’. Thus, avoiding unnecessary suffering through euthanasia is often expressed by saying that euthanasia allows death to occur before dignity is lost. The term ‘dignity’ is a ‘plus-word’. In the notion of ‘dying with dignity’, advocates of euthanasia would seem to hold a good hand. In the American state of Oregon a ‘Death with dignity act’ has been adopted. Likewise, a society for promoting euthanasia in Denmark calls itself “A Dignifi ed Death”, and says that its aim is that people should be enabled to ‘die with dignity’. Hence, the argument for euthanasia is not only made convincing; it is almost seductive. The concept of ‘life unworthy of life’ and of ‘dignity’ or ‘dignifi ed’ in connection with euthanasia implies that euthanasia is the more dignifi ed way to die.

Fallibility of ‘loss of dignity argument’

Terms like ‘dignity’ and ‘digniﬁ ed’ seem convincing in this connection because we all favor the idea of ‘human dignity’ and agree that a digniﬁ ed death is right and must be achieved. Although the terms are imprecise, they have only positive connotations and deep within us there is an idea of what dignity is. Moreover, do we not see dignity in the decision in former times of weak and dependent members of

24 See footnote 11 in this chapter, translated in (Burleigh 1994, 112). the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 193 society to absent themselves and seek death, so that they would not be a burden on their fellows, and the rest of the group could pull through and survive? Is it not in the highest degree dignifi ed when somebody gives his life for another person?25 The dignity in giving your life for somebody or something is based on the fact that there is something that is more valuable than life. Life is too good to throw away but it is not too good to give away. On the contrary, life is best when it is given away either in one fi nal act or during the course of one’s whole life. However, life can only be given away when it is highly prized. When it is despised, then it cannot be given away but may be thrown away, which is something quite different. Only because life is great can it be great to give life away. However, in the argument for legalizing euthanasia, the concept of dignity has been changed—almost imperceptibly, but radically changed—so that the meaning becomes the opposite. To ‘die with dignity’ now is not to give away life because it is of high value, but to get rid of it because it is of low value. As much as it is full of dignity to give one’s life it may be quite the reverse of dignity to defi ne someone else’s life as being so poor that it is not worth preserving. Certainly, the very assessment of the quality of life of a patient may bring about a reduction of its quality. The offer of euthanasia—be it implicit or explicit—to a weak patient may in itself be repudiation and may convey a message to the patient that he is superfl uous and unwanted. This may in itself reduce the patient’s quality of life. If we adhere to a modern way of thinking, dignity is connected with and even dependent on autonomy and self-determination. Hence, it follows that we connect loss of autonomy, competence and control with not having dignity. Are mentally handicapped or demented patients without dignity? Likewise, a baby cannot make autonomous choices, it does not have self-control, and it needs care, indeed it would not survive if it was not taken care of, but is it bereft of dignity? All human beings have dignity but the people who surround a human being such as relatives, physicians, and nursing staff may have a strong infl uence on how a person sees himself and his life. A patient can feel abandoned, discarded, and not wanted, and may therefore seek his

25 Such events have been reported. For example it has been told that four heroic chaplains during the Second World War voluntarily abandoned a sinking lifeboat and drowned so that the other passengers could survive. 194 ole j. hartling own death. Therefore, if a weak and despairing patient is considered unworthy of life, this patient may accept an offer to be helped to die. Dignity per se will not diminish but self-esteem may dwindle because the latter is dependent on how you are regarded. The institutions of Bethel and Hoffnungstal and the protection that their leaders gave to their inmates during the war could be seen as “islands of dignity” in a sea of enormities. Moreover, the respect of human dignity was true and truthful—in contrast to the cover-up of the surroundings. As revealed by Braune in his memorandum, the ruth- less manoeuvres were not only explained and defended by necessities of planned economy (“planwirtschaftlichen Gründen”); they were also couched in phoney compassion, expressed for example in the letters of condolence. Legalization of euthanasia will undermine the doctor-patient relationship and undoubtedly more so if efforts are made to embellish euthanasia with smooth phrases and expressions. Braune clearly realized the danger of jeopardizing the basic trust between patient and carer. In 1947, he wrote in an article: If the possibility is given of eliminating lives unworthy of life through some apparently regulated measures, then misuse of that possibility will take place after shorter or longer time. Would not the trust in doctors be shaken when old, weak, or diseased people visit the doctor fearing that: now he takes a look at me to see whether he will give me one or two weeks to live in or whether he will hand me over to a commission that decides my fate? Likewise, the doctor must base his professional ethics on the fact that it must never be possible to kill patients with drugs for medical reasons (Braune, B. 1989, 74).26 Braune had also made a theme of this in his memorandum to Hitler: Trust in our institutions will be heavily shaken, and not in the least trust in our doctors and authorities. If the trust in doctors is lost, there is a great risk that any measure of health service will be met with mistrust. Then the great blessings of all the institutions and many valuable medical efforts will be an illusion (Braune, B. 1989, 148–49).27 Furthermore: If mistrust of the people in such institutions [nursing homes, etc.] becomes common, it will cause the most serious setback of the health care system.

26 My translation. 27 My translation. See ‘Appendix’. the legacy of his resistance to euthanasia 195

Only through trust can the doctor heal, and only through trust can the authorities help (Braune, B. 1989, 149).28

Braune’s legacy

The name of Braune is inseparably attached to the history of the Hoff- nungstal Institutions. But in particular, we connect him with his brave resistance to the Nazi killings of the ‘lives unworthy of life’. Thus, he became ﬁ gure-head for the Christian Church in the dire times when few had the grit to go against prevailing attitudes and a powerful regime. Paul Gerhard Braune was a Christian and a pious man, and he believed in classic virtues such as loyalty, honesty, respect, and obedience. His belief in the state’s representatives was shaken, when he realized their clandestine and evil operations and confronted their lies. Braune also took part in the euthanasia debate after the war by referring to his experiences with the mercy death (‘Gnadentod’). When American papers reported a case, where a doctor had killed his wife, Braune recalled the Nazi ﬁ lm “I accuse” that propagated the ‘Gnaden- tod’. He stated that “Now again it must be quite clear that also the most humane mercy death remains a murder” (Kaminsky 2005, 138).29 Above all, Braune’s unwavering resistance to the euthanasia program can be seen as his legacy to us of today. He respected and served disadvantaged and suffering people and expressed his duty to his fellow human beings through his life and his acts. In his memorandum to Hitler, he described that in the institutions for the needy people, a devoted service was a matter of course, and that it was also exercised in situations where—according to human judgement—there was no more hope. Braune has honed our awareness of the fact so that today’s propagation of euthanasia is also covered with gracious words and ‘best-interests-of-the-patient’ arguments. When Braune sent his memorandum to Hitler, he still trusted that he could get through to the authorities. Thus, he concluded the text with the words from the Roman Senate: “Videant consules, ne quid detrimenti res publica capiat!” (Foss 1988, 52; Burleigh 1994, 167).30 These words are also urgent today!

28 My translation. See ‘Appendix’. 29 My translation. 30 “Let the leading men in the state take care that it comes to no harm!” 196 ole j. hartling

References

Binding, K., and Hoche, A. 1920. “Die Freigabe der Vernichtung lebensunwerten Lebens. Ihr Mass und ihre Form”. Leipzig. In Burleigh 1994, 15ff. Braune, B. 1989. Hoffnung gegen die Not. Mein Leben mit Paul Braune. (Lizenzausgabe für die DDR mit Genehmigung des R. Brockhaus Verlages Wuppertal, 1983), 152 pages. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt GmbH. First edition. Braune, M. 2005. “Der Weg Paul Gerhard Braunes in die Diakonie (bis 1922)”. In Cantow and Kaiser 2005, 17–31. Braune, P. 2005. “Weimar—drittes Reich—DDR: Leiten durch Zeitenwenden”. In Cantow and Kaiser 2005, 32–72. Braune, W. 2005. “Paul Gerhard Braune als Vizepräsident des Centralausschusses für Innere Mission (CA)”. In Cantow and Kaiser 2005, 73–93). Burleigh, M. 1994. Death and Deliverance, Euthanasia in Germany 1900–45, 382 pages. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cantow, J., and J.-C. Kaiser, pub. 2005. Paul Gerhard Braune (1887–1954) Ein Mann der Kirche und Diakonie in schwieriger Zeit, 352 pages. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer GmbH. Confessio.de. 2008. Barmer theologische Erklärung. Evangelisch-Lutherische Landeskirche Sach- sens. http://www.confessio.de/cms/website.php?id=/bekenntnisse/protestantisch/ barmer.html (accessed June 23, 2008). Die Zeit. 1986a. “Entsetzliche Todesangst”. March 7. http://www.zeit.de/1986/11/ Entsetzliche-Todesangst (accessed June 23, 2008). ——. 1986b. “Humane Tötungsart”. March 7. http://www.zeit.de/1986/11/Humane- Toetungsart (accessed June 23, 2008). Fenigsen, R. 1989. “Mercy, murder and morality perspectives on euthanasia: a case against Dutch euthanasia.” Hastings Center Rep 1989; 19 (suppl): 22–30. Foss, Ø. 1988. Drab i videnskabens navn. ‘Eutanasi’ og forsøg med mennesker under nazismen, 102 pages. Århus: Aarhus Universitetsforlag. Jensch, H. 1990. Euthanasie—Aktion ‘T 4’. Verbrechen in den Jahren 1940 und 1941 auf dem Sonnenstein in Pirna. Rat des Kreises Pirna, Abt. Kultur. http://www.geschichte-Pirna .de/euthanasie.htm (accessed June 23, 2008). Kaminsky, U. 2005. “ ‘Wer ist Gemeinschaftsunfähig?’ Paul Gerhard Braune, die Ras- senhygiene und die NS-Euthanasie”. In Cantow and Kaiser 2005, 114–135. Michalsen A., and K. Reinhart. 2006. “ ‘Euthanasia’: a confusing term, abused under the Nazi regime and misused in present end-of-life debate”. Intensive Care Medicine 2006; 32: 1304–1310. Nicholls A.J. 1995. “It’s easier in wartime. Nazi doctors and the ‘euthanasia’ of the handicapped”. Times Literary Supplement. January 13, 10. APPENDIX

MEMORANDUM FOR ADOLF HITLER31

By Paul Gerhard Braune

Re: “Systematic Transfer of Inmates from Asylums and Homes”

In the course of recent months, it has been observed in various parts of the Reich that entire hosts of inmates from homes and asylums have been transferred—some repeatedly—for reasons grounded in the planned economy, whereafter the relatives—after some weeks—have received news of their deaths. The uniformity of the measures as well as the uniformity of the attendant circumstances eliminate any doubt that this concerns a large-scale, planned measure that has been taken to eliminate thousands of human beings, who are considered “unworthy of life”. One is of the opinion, that it is necessary to eliminate these useless eaters for the sake of the defence of the Reich. Likewise, one holds the opinion that it is necessary for the German people for eugenical reasons, that the insane and other hopeless cases, such as abnormal, antisocial or other beings unﬁ t for living in a community, be eradicated as fast as possible. One estimates that this may concern 100,000 or more people. In an article by professor Kranz in the April edition of the “NS-Volksdienst”, the number of those, whose eradication is probably desirable, is reported to be one million. Even now, thousands of German national comrades have been eliminated without legal basis, or their deaths are immediately imminent. It is urgently necessary to stop these measures as quickly as possible, because they most severely shatter the moral basis of the entire people. The inviolability of human life is one of the cornerstones of any state order. If killing is to be ordered, these measures must be founded on valid laws. It is intolerable that sick people are continually eliminated for pure effectiveness without careful medical examination and without any legal protection, without even hearing their relatives and their legal representatives.

31 Because of lack of space, the memorandum has been shortened; see square brackets in the text. Translated and shortened by Andrea von Dosenrode. 198 ole j. hartling

The following facts have been observed: To start with, many asylums and homes and also a great number of private nursing homes, to which insane, epileptics, etc. are admitted, received the circular from the minister of the interior (Reichsminister des Innern), which I have added to this copy as enclosure 1. In this circular it was stated that because of the necessity to record the asylums and homes for reasons of the planned economy, the enclosed forms had to be fi lled out. The forms were to be returned directly to the minister of the interior by 1 December 1939. Signed: Dr. Conti. It was immediately noticeable that this survey was sent directly from the minister of the interior, without involving the competent offi ces of the chairman of the regional councils or the health authorities. This fact led to astonishment. A direct inquiry to the competent offi cial in charge received the answer that it was a purely statistical survey. Subsequently, all nursing homes I know of, that had been asked to fi ll out these forms, reported a whole host of inmates, who apparently fell under the regulations of the enclosed leafl et. The leafl et states that all patients must be reported, who 1. Are suffering from the following illnesses and who cannot do any or only manual work (pulling, etc.) in the institutions: Schizophrenia, Epilepsy (if exogenous, please list war-disablement or other cause) Senile illnesses Therapy-refractory paralyses and other venereal diseases Mental defi ciency of any cause Encephalitis Huntington and other neurological terminal stages

Or 2. Have been admitted to institutions for at least ﬁ ve years; Or 3. Are in institutions because they are criminal or insane Or 4. Are not German citizens or persons of non-German or generi- cally related blood; please state race and nationality.

Often, institutions believed that these were preparatory measures for a new law concerning admission. On 20 January 1940, the institutions received a letter from the commissioner of defence of the Reich (Reichsverteidigungs-kommissar), which I enclose as enclosure 2. Thereafter, the transfer of the inmates of asylums and nursing homes was imminent. It was determined that the patients should be transferred in large group transports. The notiﬁ cation of appendix 199 the relatives was unwanted. The whole form of the notiﬁ cation raised doubt, because there was no comprehensible reason for the transferral of the patients.

[Here, the memorandum has been shortened. P.G. Braune lists a number of detailed—horrible—cases, and estimates the extent of the measures.]

This is about a conscious, planned measure for the elimination of all insane or those otherwise unable to live in a community. The people concerned are by no means totally insane, not knowing or understanding anything of their environment, or are unable to do any work. As we can see from many cases, these measures often concern people, who have been functioning in their jobs for years, and where mental deﬁ cits only occurred later on.

If one takes into consideration that the offi cial leafl et concerning the fi lling out of the forms also includes senile illnesses, it is beyond doubt that any old person, who has contracted an incurable mental or maybe even only physical illness in old age, risks the same fate. Naturally, these facts have slowly spread in the population, because relatives of the patients meet each other and exchange their observations, when they visit the asylums and homes. Trust in our institutions will be heavily shaken, and not in the least trust in our doctors and authorities. If the trust in doctors is lost, there is a great risk that any measure of health service will be met with mistrust. Then the great blessings of all the institutions and many valuable medical efforts will be an illusion. Indeed the gathering in the institutions has lead to a separation of the sick members of the society from the healthy ones, whereby the families and public life have been relieved of enormous burdens. Likewise, reproduction was prevented in the institutions. On the other hand, it was always a great comfort for the healthy members of a family, to know that the sick member—the mother, the brother or the child—was being taken care of in a friendly and good institution. How much better were things in Germany compared to other states, where the wretches lived in the streets? Besides, the medical profession has learned extremely much in the institutions, which is a blessing for the healthy. Almost every physician went through this schooling. How much selfl ess service has been developed in the nursing staff of exactly these institutions and 200 ole j. hartling has become natural? How much joyful service has been performed where—humanely speaking—no hope was left? Shall these extremely constructive forces in the life of the people slowly die? Shall the highest school of selfl ess service not continue? How many thousands or millions of ill people have not been nursed back to health by devoted and competent service? If mistrust of the people in such institutions becomes common, it will cause the most serious setback of the health care system. Only through trust can the doctor heal, and only through trust can the authorities help.

Also, another extreme question is surfacing. How far does one wish to go with the extermination of so-called life unworthy of living? Up until now, the mass measure has proved that many people have been included, who were of extensively clear and sound mind. In one case, which I know especially well, six girls, who were about to be discharged from the nursing home, so one could fi nd jobs for them as domestic servants, were destined for transferral. Does one only want to include completely hopeless cases, such as idiots and imbeciles? The leafl et lists, as already mentioned also geriatric illnesses. The newest decree of the same authority requests the recording of children with severe congenital illnesses and malformations of all kinds, their gathering and recording in special institutions. This arouses most serious fears. Will one stop before those suffering of tuberculosis? With those in preventive detention, measures of euthanasia have seemingly already been started. Will also other abnormal and anti-social people be included? Where is the limit? Who is abnormal, anti-social, who is hopelessly ill? Who is unfi t for living in a community? What will happen to the soldiers, who sustain incurable injuries in the fi ght for their Fatherland? These kinds of questions have already been raised in their circles. Here, the most serious questions and fears arise. It is dangerous to relinquish the inviolability of the person without any legal maxim. Any criminal is granted legal protection. Shall one leave exactly the helpless without protection? Will not the ethics of the whole people be endangered, if human life is worth so little? How will the strength to bear hardships be paralysed, when one is not even capable of providing for one’s ill people? It belongs to true community of a people and to solidarity that the healthy care for the sick and the feeble, also that families willingly and joyfully bear the burden that has been imposed upon them. Yes, how much joy is there for many, who serve “life unworthy of life”? In the last days, a prominent appendix 201 couple has fetched their hopelessly ill son from our nursing home, so he can substitute another son, who died as an offi cer. If one states that the reason for these measures are that the limited supplies for our people make it necessary to eliminate these useless eaters, then I answer that even if 100,000 people were killed, only one sick person per 1000 healthy persons would be eliminated, and that does not change the supply situation at all. One can not argue either that the use of the present institutions and buildings constitutes a waste of the national economy. After all, these homes were built in the fi rst place for the sick, and when the war started, exactly these institutions have provided tens of thousands of hospital beds, without limiting their service to the sick. It may well be that the sick also have to participate in carrying the burdens of war, but that is far removed from a planned destruction. Therefore, this is about a state of emergency that is severely shaking all those who know about it, destroying the inner peace of many families, and risking to develop into a danger, where there is no telling yet, what consequences it will have. May the competent authorities ensure that these disastrous measures are abolished, and that the whole question be examined carefully concerning the legal, medical, moral and political sides, before the destinies of thousands and tens of thousands are decided upon. Videant consules, ne quid detrimenti res publica capiat!32

Signed: Braune, pastor Director of the Hoffnungstal-Institutions Vice-President of the Central Committee for the Inner Mission in the German Evangelical Church

Lobetal, 9 July 1940

32 [Let the leading men in the state take care that it comes to no harm!]

CHAPTER EIGHT

LAJOS ORDASS: A CHRISTIAN AND A CONSISTENT ADVERSARY OF THE TOTALITARIAN SYSTEMS

Eniko ˝ Böröcz

Bishop Ordass (1901–1978) was born in 1901 in Torzsa, Hungary. Ordass began his theological studies in Budapest and they were concluded in Öden- burg. Later, he spent one year in Sweden between 1927 and 1928. There- after, he became pastor in a Lutheran congregation in Hungary. During the German occupation of Hungary in March 1944, he changed his name from Wolf to Ordass. In 1945, he was elected bishop in the Lutheran Church in Hungary. He became known worldwide when he was elected vice president of the Lutheran World Federation in 1947. In 1948, he began his ﬁ ght for the freedom of the Gospel and the autonomy of the Church. As a strong adversary of the communist dictatorship, he had to go to prison for two years. His struggle was a continuation of his ﬁ ght against the right-wing dictatorship during the Second World War. After release from prison, he lived for six years in an inner emigration but came back to serve as a bishop in 1956 until July 1958, when he again was removed from the service. He lived in inner exile until his death 1978.

Introduction

Hungarian Lutheran Bishop Lajos Ordass (1901–1978) was a man of the church and a strong supporter of democracy. During his life, he experienced two dictatorships—fi rst as a pastor and later as a bishop of his church. On September 27, 1945, he was installed as bishop in Bánya—respectively Montana—diocese of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Hungary (ELCiH). From this moment until his death, he was a legitimate bishop of his church, although he could only practise his offi ce for fi ve years—between 1945 and 1948, and 1956 and 1958. Not only the above mentioned periods but also his whole life were full of fi ghts for full freedom of service of the church and true democracy in Hungary. In this article, we will describe the special career of a man who was both an ecclesiastical person and a Hungarian citizen. During his 204 eniko ˝ böröcz whole life, he experienced many changes but despite these, he basically remained faithful to both his Lutheran faith and to those general human values accumulated through his personal experiences. His life was determined by the ELCiH and Hungarian history and the order was always the same, fi rst the church and then history. Bishop Ordass sometimes introduced himself with this sentence: “I am a Servant of the Maternal Holy Church”! But this statement signifi ed neither deafness nor blindness regarding the matters of the church and he never became an uncritical admirer of the prevailing ecclesiastical status quo. On the contrary, he fought during his whole life for the daily Reformation of both the visible and the invisible church. He knew well that only a strong church was able to offer an alternative before itself and the whole world. As for his relationship to the world, he always remained aware that the church is not the world and the world will never be the church. He always stressed that the church ought to hand over two messages to the world. The fi rst message should contain the demand to fulfi ll God’s eternal commands. Noth- ing and no one inside or outside the church could gain dispensation from this responsibility because this is the ‘prophetical mission’. The second message of the church ought to contain the announcement that universal divine amnesty is concealed in the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In the fi rst two parts of our chapter, we will describe the person and work of respectively Pastor Lajos Wolf and later as Bishop Lajos Ordass1 in the mirror of his meetings with the brown and red dictatorships. Both dictatorships presented him with serious challenges which were to be met with the means given by his Christian faith and common sense. His fi rst bishop period—between 1945 and 1948—was full of struggles for the maintenance of the double mission and freedom of the church. As for the third part of our chapter, we want to acquaint the readers with the most blessed epoch of the history of the ELCiH after the Second World War between 1956 and 1958. At the same time, this short period coincided with the second bishop period for Bishop Ordass. A full theological, personal and structural renewal characterized this epoch and this meant that not only the errors of the past were

1 Pastor Ordass changed his name from Wolf into Ordass exactly on the day of the German occupation of Hungary on March 19, 1944. a christian and a consistent adversary 205 repaired but also new results were born. At the end of our chapter, we will deal with the active and passive resistance of Bishop Ordass. During the life of Wolf/Ordass, Hungarian society was faced with a red dictatorship twice and with the brown dictatorship once. The fi rst red dictatorship was in 1919 and it lasted altogether eight months, but the memory of it remained longer. Since little time passed between the appearance of the fi rst red dictatorship and the peace treaty in Trianon on July 4, 1920, it was not diffi cult to fi nd points of contact between the two events. Moreover, the so-called Hungarian Soviet Republic was led by people whose leaders were often of Jewish birth. So to some it appeared that the Hungarian Soviet Republic was a ‘Jewish- Bolshevic conspiracy’ and its participants and its supporters were made the scapegoats for all problems. In spite of this, Hungary remained a comparatively tolerant society for a long time. Hungary was primarily busy with the solution of its own inner problems. This situation changed with the appearance of the so-called three Jewish laws. The fi rst one was the XVth law from 1938, the second one the IVth law from 1939, and the third one was the XVth law from 1941. The fi rst of these laws stipulated that the number of Jewish employees should not exceed 20 percent in credit banks and industrial and commercial institutes with more than 10 employed. The second law contained further restrictions regarding the public and commercial roles of the Jewish people. The third law was an even more racial law prohibiting Christian and Jewish people from marrying. In spite of these laws, both the Hungarian and foreign Jewish people lived under relatively secure conditions until the German occupation—on March 19, 1944. Then began the deportation of the Jews living in the province; about 450,000 people in spring 1944. On July 7, 1944, the head of the Hungarian government, Miklós Horthy, suspended further deportations and as such he succeeded in rescuing the Jewish people in Budapest. The representatives of the three Hungarian historical churches (Roman Catholic, Reformed and Evangelical-Lutheran) in the Hungar- ian parliaments all voted for the fi rst two laws, but they refused to vote for the third. Pastor and later Bishop Wolf/Ordass did not agree on this anti-Semitic stance and confronted the common notion of that time. Hungary’s second meeting with the red dictatorship occurred after the Second World War and lasted until the political change in 1989. The churches and their leaders had to relate to two questions: the fi rst one was the self-defi nition of the individual churches, the second one the question of the relationship between state and church. Bishop Ordass’ 206 eniko ˝ böröcz opinion of these two questions became the source of his confl icts both inside and outside the church. He confessed that the church must always concentrate on its mission and it must remain a church. As for the relationship between state and church, he was ready to continue a correct dialogue both for the sake of the church and of the nation, but this should not be realized at the expense of the true service of the church—its self-denial. That fact that the Soviet Union still counted as a solid ally of the majority of the victorious Great Powers of the West made the situation more diffi cult. Only a few people recognized the similar nature of Nazism and communism. On the contrary, the responsible intelligentsia proclaimed aloud that “in the origin of the Nazism stands the hate of the people, but in turn in the origin of the communism stands the love of the people.” (Leroy, 24).

A short biography of Bishop Ordass (1901–1978)

Lajos Ordass’ original family name was Wolf. The population of his birth place—Torzsa—were of German descent. Both of his parents were German by birth, as well. His father, Artur Wolf, was a Lutheran teacher. He “. . . was not just employed by the church; he also lived in the church” (Terray 1997, 5). One has to mention the fact that in Ordass’ native village, in spite of its German roots, the Hungarian language and its customs played an increasingly important role in the life of the inhabitants. During primary school, the young Wolf had to become acquainted with the third linguistic surroundings namely the Slavonic. Since the ELCiH has always been a tri-lingual church during its long history—Hungarian, German and Slovak—this fact facilitated his later calling to the service of the church. Later he received a strong Lutheran education during both his secondary education and theological studies. His further studies in Germany and Sweden both strengthened and completed this infl uence. Ordass became especially interested in the results of both the German and Norwegian church confl icts and the lonely fi ght of the Danish Pastor Kaj Munk. During his Danish journey between July 7 and 10 in 1947, he tried to collect information regarding the history of Danish Lutheranism and especially regarding Kaj Munk. During his stay in Sweden, he negotiated an agreement on the publication of some of Kaj Munk’s writings.2 The fact that

2 His contact person was Valdemar Langlet. The translation of three of Kaj Munk’s dramas could ﬁ rst be published two years after Ordass’ death, in 1980 (Munk 1980). a christian and a consistent adversary 207

Ordass was later deeply occupied with the person and work of Kaj Munk shows that he reckoned him among those people whose words, deeds, and behaviour infl uenced him. He tried to put this inspiration into practice in his own fi ght against the right and left dictatorships. Due to his ‘double church fi ght’—inside and outside of his church—he became more appreciated abroad than in his own church and country. Both in 1947 and 1957, he was elected the Vice President of the Lutheran World Federation (LWF). During his life, he lived in ‘internal exile’ twice, namely between 1950–1956 and 1958–1978. He was rehabilitated twice by both the church and state on October 5 and 8, 1956, respectively, on August 23, 1990 and on October 5, 1995. According to these declarations Bishop Ordass was a legitimate bishop from his installation on September 27, 1945 until his death on August 14, 1978. He received two honoris causa doctoral titles, the fi rst in 1947 from Muhlenberg University in Allentown in the USA. In the laudatio, Bishop Ordass was called: “an immovable bulwark of the ideas of the free democracy against the infl uence of the totalitarism.” (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, knot 5, 214–15). The second doctoral title was granted from the University in Iceland in 1971, because he translated the Passion hymns of Iceland’s greatest poet Pétursson Hallgrimur (Pétursson 1974). Ordass’ funeral was held at Farkasrét cemetery in Budapest on August 19, 1978. On March 18, 2000, Bishop Ordass was posthumously awarded with the Prize of Hungarian Heritage. Ferenc Mádl, a member of the Hungar- ian Academy of Sciences—later president of the state—said of him in his speech on the occasion: With his moral courage, Bishop Ordass took on a mission, his model has given a power to many of us to keep our honesty . . . his fi gure is also today a radiant strength (Zászkaliczky 2000, 4). The tomb of Bishop Ordass has become a part of Hungarian National Heritage.

Pastor Wolf and the right-wing and left-wing dictatorships

Pastor Wolf’s informative practical lecture in 1943 In November 1940 and again in 1942, Lutheran pastors in Hungary of German origin published the so-called German Memorandum in which they claimed more privileges for the congregations with Ger- man background, including also the possibility of the separation from 208 eniko ˝ böröcz the ELCiH. In response, Ordass wrote a booklet in 1942 in which he not only refuted most of the statements of the Memorandum but also rejected the idea of separation (Ordass 1985a, 131ff.). Already in 1943, it became evident that Lajos Ordass kept his eyes at once on both right-wing and left-wing dictatorships. In that time, he already expounded his views on both dictatorships. This was very strange in Hungary at that time, where the majority of the people only focused on the red dictatorship in the Soviet Union and its persecution of the Church.3 The title of Pastor Wolf’s lecture was: Struggle for our Evangelical-Lutheran faith—today. In the introduction to his lecture, he informed his audience that he wanted to give “to the greatest extent practical information”. He clarifi ed that he wanted to deliver his lecture “. . . not with political purpose” but only “. . . with eyes fi xed at the church and the heart loving the church” (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 2). Both the red and brown dictatorships were mentioned by Pastor Wolf: the red dictatorship with reference to the Russian October revolution (1917) and the Spanish Civil War (1934–37). Both the Russian Ortho- dox Church and the Spanish Roman Catholic Church fought their battle against attacks which came from the east. He spoke of the fact that, in the Soviet Union, the leaders of political life tried to bring the destiny of the church “towards total destruction”. As for the Spanish Civil War, Ordass mentioned the fact that the Catholic Church started to fl ourish after the Civil War in spite of its serious losses under the Civil War (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 26). In the main part of his lecture, Pastor Wolf dealt with the brown dictatorship and with those answers which two Evangelical-Lutheran people gave to its attacks. He spent shorter time on the German and longer time on the Norwegian answers. Since his lecture was delivered one year before Germany occupied Hungary, one could consider this lecture as a historical and theological parabola. On this background, the lecture prepared the ELCiH for those duties which were waiting for the people and for the historical churches.

3 Not only the Hungarian government and its surroundings but also the man in the street received plenty of information of the horrible acts of the communist dictatorship in the Soviet Union. In 1919 during the Hungarian Soviet Republic, the whole Hungarian people got a taste of these acts. The Christian churches in the whole world knew of these things. For this theme, see: Ágnes Gereben: Egyház az ateista államban (Church in an atheist state) 1917–25 (Gereben 2001) and Nicolas Werth: Egy állam a népe ellen Ero ˝ szak, elnyomás, rémuralom a Szovjetunióban (Werth 2000). a christian and a consistent adversary 209

In spite of the political and church political differences between the situations of the Norwegian and Hungarian Lutheran Churches, Pastor Wolf wanted to expound on those experiences, which the Norwegian Lutheran Church collected during its double ﬁ ght against the German occupier and the Quisling government.4 In this situation, the ﬁ rst truth for the church must be the statement that the church is church and not state and subsequently the state is state and not church. In this situation, the church could not remain silent because its message was connected to both the world and to the church. The law of God is valid for all people, but the gospel only for the church. The right of warning must always be practised by the leaders and members of the church. At the end of his lecture, Pastor Wolf stressed that he wanted to confront his audience with some truths regarding the mission of the church. As for his own church Pastor Wolf explained his view that the ELCiH had chosen to follow “the route of the great love of comfort” and for this reason the ELCiH had to rethink “The Church never lives in this world without troubles.” (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 27).

Pastor Wolf and the Jewish question When the ﬁ rst two Jewish laws in Hungary were passed, Pastor Wolf lived in a country town, Cegléd, where he met people . . . who presented their personal papers to testify with these that they were not Jewish by birth and in such a way they wanted to remain in their positions. (Ordass 1985a, 137). During his ten years in Cegléd, he also obtained information through the ofﬁ cial ecclesiastical newspapers, which often dealt with the so-called Jewish question.5 When some years later, in 1941, Pastor Wolf became a

4 For the history of the ELCiH see (Veto ˝ ). Although the actual part of this book that discusses the twentieth century is very biased due to the then left-wing church political system, the description of the earlier centuries that the book also offers is still useful. 5 From the weekly newspaper, Harangszó (trans. Peal of Bell) between 1937–1944 both the leaders of the ELCiH and its members could read about the following themes: the majority of the rich people in Hungary were Jewish by birth; during the Hungar- ian Soviet Republic the majority of the main leaders were also Jewish, and they were responsible for those measures which caused the horrible deaths of hundreds and also for those ungodly orders which were directed against the churches. Although there was some truth in these statements, in the shadow of a more and more threatening right-wing dictatorship, these ‘truths’ precisely served the wrong side. The ecclesiastical press later dealt with the question of the Christian mission among Jewish people. The different articles mentioned not only the command of love as a decision on all 210 eniko ˝ böröcz pastor of a new Lutheran congregation in Budapest, he was confronted with the practical consequences of the Jewish question, too. At the time of the confi scation of the Jewish estates and other properties by the state, he disputed the solution that the church would gain right to take and utilize some of these foreign properties for ecclesiastical goals. He continued a very hard correspondence on this subject. When the issue of the quick conversion of Jewish people arose, Ordass—maybe also under the infl uence of the Norwegian Lutheran Pastor Gisle Johnson living in Budapest at that time—refused the quick conversion of Jew- ish people to the Lutheran Church. Instead he suggested fi nding other ways of support for the persecuted Jews. He tried to follow two different directions. On the one hand, he personally supported persecuted people. Since Bishop Ordass never boasted later of his deeds in this area, one can fi nd only sporadic references in his memoirs.6 To emphasize his clear point of view on both the Ger- man and Jewish questions, Pastor Ordass changed his name from Wolf into Ordass exactly on the day of the German occupation of Hungary on March 19, 1944. Besides this, he was ready to take offi cial steps for the sake of the persecuted Jewish people. In autumn 1944, Pastor Ordass—on behalf of Bishop Sándor Raffay—and Valdemar Langlet (the leader of the Swedish Red Cross) paid two visits in Esztergom to Cardinal Jusztinián Serédi. The aim of these visits was to try to establish a common front for the three historical churches and to organize a common protest against the anti-Jewish policy of the government, but their mission remained unsuccessful.

Christian people but also the sin of Jews against Jesus Christ and his church. The majority of the church leaders and members saw the solution of the Jewish question in their conversion to Christian faith. However, parallel to the deterioration of the political situation, masses of Jewish groups wanted to convert to Christian faith and some pastors tried to utilize their tragic situation, while others made their route to the Christian faith more difﬁ cult. 6 A remark exists among others in the more detailed account of his long journey when he met the family of Tolnay in Stockholm. Tolnay, an old lady of whom Ordass wrote: “I gave a powerful help to the old lady during the time of the persecution of the Jews. This powerful help was a patron-pass (similar to the Schutzpass issued by Raol Wallenberg). Besides this he gave to some people the special certiﬁ cations of the Swedish Red Cross. He also wrote comforting letters to the personally involved people, and he made visits in a (for Jewish people) separated house. See: Ordass Lajos: Külföldi utazásaim 1947. február–tól, július 26-ig (trans. My trips abroad from February 23 to July 26, 1947 ). Autograph manuscript. (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 83). a christian and a consistent adversary 211

Bishop Ordass’ response to the German issue after the Second World War Ordass never boasted of his clear-sightedness regarding the issue of Germany nor of his good deeds concerning the sufferings of the Jewish people. There came other times which demanded other attitudes and other deeds. A large number of the previously persecuted persons meta- morphosed into persecutors and they tried to take revenge not only on their previous persecutors but also on innocent people.7 After the Second World War when the situation of the German speaking congregations changed fundamentally, two stories from the life of Ordass deserve to be mentioned. They demonstrate his ability to distinguish different problems from each other. He was already Bishop of the Bánya/Mon- tana District. The ﬁ rst story has its origin in the time after the Second World War, when the German Lutheran congregations in Hungary were in a terrible situation because of the deportation of some of the German inhabitants. From the end of 1946 until the spring of 1947 “altogether 200,000 persons of German nationality were forced to leave Hungary.” (Pölöskei, Gergely, and Izsák, 193). Since the deportation of the German citizens occurred in several waves, the four bishops of the ELCiH tried to stop the events with a common Bishop’s Circular (Circle of the Bishops 1947). In this document, they protested against the brutal treatment that largely affected innocent people. The Lutheran bishops tried to explain that the German citizens had lived in Hungary for centuries and on that basis had come to represent the life of the Hungarian people. The majority of these people worked very hard—in agriculture, mines, industrial institutions, textile and handicrafts—and many of them served with their knowledge not only their own people but also the whole Hungarian nation. After the Second World War, Hungary needed both blue-collar and white-collar workers. One of the main arguments of the Circular was the following: For this reason from the point of view of the nation’s loyalty one cannot raise an objection against all of the ethnic Germans in Hungary. The sad events of recent years require only that leaders, agitators, and the individual sinners be called to account (Circle of the Bishops 1947, 331).

7 One of the previous co-workers of Bishop Ordass, Lutheran Pastor Gyula Csaba from Péteri, and his companions were murdered by previous communists and survivors from Auschwitz. Csaba’s corpse was never found. An empty tomb and a memorial tablet keep his name today. The Hungarian worldly and ecclesiastical historiography only started speaking of the sufferings of the victims of the left-wing dictatorship after the political change in1989. We have a great deal of remaining work on this area. 212 eniko ˝ böröcz

The Circular also protested against the manner of applying the deportation law and they demanded “the omission of those procedures which remind people of fascist methods” (Circle of the Bishops 1947, 331). The other story took place during that time when the Hungarian authorities made ceremonies of worship and other services in German more difﬁ cult. There were places where such services were forbidden. Some of the Lutheran pastors became perplexed, and they did not dare to make such services. Bishop Ordass did not belong to these, because he said that especially these people were in need of being comforted. He regularly held German worships and other services in Budapest and elsewhere in Hungary.

Opposition to the communist dictatorship

Bishop Ordass’ inaugural speech on September 27, 1945 Ordass expressed the mission of the church before the end of the Second World War with the following sentences: . . . we in the ELCiH have to understand that God ordered us to serve. This was the glory of our past. A fair-minded historiography cannot deny that on the basis of the service of our church blessings occurred. We can be led exactly by our littleness into the right route in a world that lost its sense of direction: To serve poorly but with a burning spirit (Ordass 1985b, 8). At the moment of the event, termed as either the Soviet liberation or occupation, Ordass arrived with a good past into the new political epoch. He proved not to be pro-German, he had sided with the Jews and also took part both personally and offi cially in rescue actions, and, most of all, he proved not to be a pan-Hungarian, although he deliberately decided in favour of the Hungarian nation. As for Ordass’ inaugural speech, one can fi nd the following focal points. First of all, he spoke about the situation of believers. He declared that he was not anxious about the church itself but about its believers. He considered the right to speak of the repentance of the church justifi ed, because the church was always responsible for the condition of the world. The prevailing conditions of the world and church are attached to each other on this point: that when the church represents its principles weakly then it will be responsible when the world submits to the powers of devastation. However, when this situation occurs, the a christian and a consistent adversary 213 solution is not lamentation but a new beginning. The church has to do this on the basis . . . that we do not accept putting barriers before the service of the church . . . From time immemorial the church could pursue a fruitful mission only with this stipulation (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 6). The second focal point in the speech was the remark that Ordass was standing for a theology not of scribes but of prophetic voices and deeds. Besides this, he expressed his hope of the church having good theologians, deacons, loyal church leaders, pastors who loved each other in brotherly fellowship, and church members who remained faithful to their Christian mission. For those people who represented the state, the most important part of the inaugural speech was surely the part which dealt with the relationship between church and state. On this area Ordass expressed his steadfast commitment towards the ecclesiastical schools. Although he always criticized particular characteristics of the ecclesiastical schools he stressed the fact that the entire Hungarian people became richer due to that system which originated from the teaching service of the historical churches, i.e. the confessional schools. He referred to the fact that, in recent times, the state had initiated “splendid schools and colleges”, but sad things also happened in these schools. For example: after three months in one of these schools, a young boy asked his mother not to visit him again because he was ashamed of her bare feet.8 As for the daily contact between state and church, Ordass stressed that he maintained a “close connection”. The state’s role was to give people law and order, and the church’s role was to minister the Gospel. The people were the same, but the roles of the state and the church were different. In Ordass’ view, law and order were the greatest treasures of the people after the Gospel! Ordass viewed the connection between state and church, as a dialogue to be conducted between partners. He declared that conducting social work without the church meant certain fi asco. Ordass stressed this on the basis of the Danish example. Con- cerning the connection between state and church, Ordass argued, on

8 Secretary of State Albert Bereczky—later a Reformed bishop—rejected on this occasion the fears of Ordass concerning the possible nationalization of the ecclesiastical schools although three years later, he approved—in contrast to Bishop Ordass—of the plans of the communist state with his whole heart. 214 eniko ˝ böröcz the one hand, that the most important thing was keeping the freedom of the church but, on the other hand, that very close cooperation with the state was essential because this could help the church to take on “all need, sin, joy and good hope of the people.” (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 16). In the ﬁ nal part of his speech, Ordass spoke of the importance of denominational peace in a very practical way. He reminded the historical churches of the fact that the current times explicitly demanded cooperation between the churches. Together we are responsible for our people. Together we have to protect the basic principles of Christianity in the ﬁ elds of law, welfare policies and education (Ordass Lajos Archives, Box 19, 17). The last sentences of the new bishop’s speech dealt with the questions of world Lutheranism and world Christianity. At that time, both LWF and the World Council of Churches (WCC) were in the process of formation. Ordass hoped that the concentration of forces would bring a lot of blessings to the member churches. Then they would also succeed in bringing together the peoples of the world.

Bishop Ordass and his fellow bishops’ standpoint on democracy on June 25, 1946 Bishop Ordass and his fellow bishops expounded their standpoint regarding democracy already on June 25, 1946. They said that the most characteristic features of a democratic policy are the following: “frankness, patience, truth, temperance, and the fear of God.” (Ordass, Kapi, Kuthy, and Marcsek 1985, 109–113). Only these features can guarantee democratic policy. They clearly explained what they had understood about the individual concepts. Frank is he “who says what he thinks and who does what he says”. Patient is he “who does not ﬂ y into a partial rage” if somebody speaks of his/her oppositional point of view. Just is he “who measures with the same scale” with regards to both friends and enemies. Moderate is he “who will nothing overdo”. Finally the fear of God means that the individual person knows that the world does not begin and ﬁ nish with his/her intellectual faculties. The one who admits to himself a spiritual power with higher spiritual order and law also admits that he depends on his morality and his life depends on this power (Ordass, Kapi, Kuthy, and Marcsek 1985, 111). a christian and a consistent adversary 215

The realization of Bishop Ordass’ practice programme between 1945 and the spring of 1948 Ordass was trying to realize his bishop’s programme through cooper- ating fi rst of all with his fellow bishops in his own church, then with the leading bishops of the other two historical churches—the Roman Catholic and the Reformed churches. He also tried to develop a good relationship with the competent state organs. Besides all these things, he started to build different, foreign ecclesiastical relations. The fi rst of his efforts was aimed at safeguarding those external conditions which made the service of the church possible.9 All this had to be done under miserable external conditions. Fortunately, Bishop Ordass endured all this with the necessary patience because he was familiar with similar conditions from earlier in his life. Although the ecclesiastical leaders, especially the leaders of the three historical churches, were experiencing increasingly hostile steps, the situation remained endurable until the middle of March 1948.10 As for cooperation between the three historical churches, this worked until early 1948. The creator and the main practitioner of the thought of internal solidarity among the three historical churches was the Reformed Bishop László Ravasz. The main point of this thought was that, fi rst of all, each church had to form its own theological, ecclesiastical way, and subsequently, they could continue a dialogue among themselves regarding possible common church political steps. Bishop Ravasz negotiated with both Bishop Ordass and Cardinal József Mindszenty on issues of a common church political cooperation. The contents of cooperation were set forth by Bishop Ravasz in fi ve points: the prophetic function of the church—this means the preaching and protection of God’s law; the whole freedom of the church, “. . . the safeguarding of all which follows from the essence or history of the church” (Ravasz 1992, 328); safeguarding the social work of the church with reference to its internal and external work; the appreciation of the work of ecclesiastical schools and the protection of their work, and fi nally, protection against all political extremity because this would provide an opportunity to the

9 This meant the restoration of churches, parsonages, schools, homes and the start of the ecclesiastical work in them. Then followed the organization of practical ecclesiastical service and this contained a lot of visits and negotiations with the different ecclesiastical leaders and state authorities. 10 In 1945, the so-called land law (Nr 600/1945) laid down the possible property of land to be owned by the churches. 216 eniko ˝ böröcz occupying power at the intervention. This “. . . would abolish also the intellectual remnants of the independence and sovereignty of Hungar- ians” (Ravasz 1992, 328). This so-called “internal solidarity” contained meetings, negotiations and, in particular cases, a common strategy, too. The greatest result of this “internal solidarity” was the hindrance of the abolition of the obligatory religious education in 1947. A remark of Bishop Ravasz testiﬁ es that he had connections also with Bishop Ordass. “Bishop’s Raffay’s successor has a colder nature, but his words were well-chosen and his messages were eloquent.” (Ravasz 1992, 327).11

The plans of the state concerning the agreements and denominational schools At the beginning of the year 1948 the secretary general of the communist party—Mátyás Rákosi—adopted the slogan: “by the end of the year clerical reaction must be fi nished”. The state repeatedly mentioned two things. The fi rst one was the question of those agreements, which the state wanted to sign one by one with the different churches. The second issue was the planned nationalization of the denominational schools. With this background, exploratory talks were started with the different denominations. The state tried to negotiate fi rst with the Roman Catholic Church.12 As far as the Reformed Church was concerned, one can agree with the following statements: Between the years 1945–48, a different orientation was present in the ELCiH than in the Reformed Church. In the Reformed Church, the theological changes were carried out by the substitution of the church leadership (Vajta 1987, 23).13

Answers inside the ELCiH to the plans of the state The plans of the state were facilitated by certain ecclesiastical circles inside the ELCiH who started repeating two narratives. The ﬁ rst one

11 The enforcement of the withdrawal from the bishop’s service of Bishop Ravasz, after the arrests of Bishop Ordass and Cardinal Mindszenty terminated the “internal solidarity” between the historical churches. 12 Since Hungary is a primarily Catholic country, secret negotiations were made between the state and two Catholic bishops and one Catholic party leader behind Cardinal Mindszenty’s back, although he knew of them. See: Politics Historical and Trade Union belonging Archives [PHTUA] Fonds 274. Group 7. Nr. 261. resp. Fonds 274. Group 7. Nr. 260. 13 Bishop Sándor Raffay, the predecessor of Bishop Ordass, said that the ELCiH had to be maintained from three directions: fi rst from the direction of the current political power, second from the direction of the Roman Catholic Church and third from the direction of the Reformed Church. a christian and a consistent adversary 217 was that the period before the Second World War, in general, only consisted of political, social, moral, church political betrayals. The second narrative was expressed in the following way: God judged that wicked epoch as a whole, but at the same time he gave a new opportunity with new responsibilities, but this new opportunity meant that the church always had to speak of its sins, and it had no right to practise prophetic warnings but only to practise obedience to the prevailing state power.14 As for the answers of the ELCiH to the fi rst draft of the proposed church-state agreement, the majority of the church leaders and members were not hostile regarding a contract with the state per se. The fi rst differences of opinion arose around the planned nationalization of the denominational schools. To understand this, one has to understand the importance of these schools in the life of the church. The church schools were maintained and operated mostly by individual congregations. In fact, the schools constituted an integral part of the life of most parishes. Several generations of families might attend and maintain the same school. Thus, in one sense the schools belonged to the general church, in another sense they belonged to the congregations (Baer, 22). By the time rumors leaked out concerning the intentions of the state, three different kinds of groups were found inside the ELCiH. Each of them thought differently of the future life of the church. Although in the words of Jesus Christ, there are only two ways—a broad and a narrow. After the Second World War, most experts of the history of the ELCiH agreed on the existence of the three groups. The names of these three groups were: the group of the “unyielding” under the guidance of Bishop Ordass, the group of the so-called “collaborators” and the group of the so-called “third way”. (Baer; Giczi 2003, 59–64). The Hungarian parliament voted for the nationalization of the denominational schools with law XXXIIIth on July 16, 1948.15 18,000 teachers had to continue the work in state schools. The majority of the

14 These narratives originated from the Evangelical-Reformed Church in Hungary and were later adopted also by the ELCiH. They were mainly emphazised by the so-called “progressive line”. 15 On this day, 4899 denominational schools were taken over by the state. The ELCiH lost a total of 353 primary schools, 14 grammar schools, and later one university. In church property remained two grammar schools in Budapest, which were offered to the state in 1952 by ‘red’ Bishop László Dezséry without asking the opinion of the church. One of these grammar schools was the world-famous secondary school Fasor, which has given several Nobel prize-winners to the world. The ﬁ rst part of the dates 218 eniko ˝ böröcz

Hungarian people agreed to the plan on the stipulation that religious freedom, and religious and even patriotic education remained obligatory in Hungary.16 The state agreed to all of these stipulations, but never kept its promise. That fact that, inside the ELCiH, two groups acquiesced in the nationalization of the schools and only the Ordass line fought against it, which further damaged Ordass’ reputation in the eyes of the state. It did not take a long time for the state to start attacking him as the biggest obstacle to a good relationship between the state and the church.

The criminal case of Bishop Ordass and the sentence on October 1, 1948 When the state saw that the historical churches were not cooperative enough—with the exception of certain leading circles in the Reformed Church—it started attacking those church leaders who tried to safeguard their churches from the totalitarian claims of the state. In the fi rst six months of 1948, it became clear that Bishop Ordass would not act in a way favourable to the state, neither during the negotiations with the state nor in the case of the nationalization of the denominational schools. At fi rst, only the state criticized him, but later also a few church people criticized him. Ordass knew well that he would be arrested and perhaps sentenced, but he went on his own way. After refusing to withdraw from his bishop’s offi ce, he was arrested on September 8, 1948 on a charge of fi nancial abuse. In his autobiographical writings, Ordass wrote about how decisive a change was taking place in his life at this time. He expressed this by the following metaphor: “the mirror of his life” until the moment of his arrest was “small and dim” but nevertheless “unbroken”. When he had been dragged into prison, “the mirror cracked”. In Ordass’ words: when somebody wanted to see “the mirror of his life”, he would see only splintered glass which showed a “chaotic picture”. Before the sentencing, Ordass spoke of God’s veil that hides God’s will from him and makes it incomprehensible, but he declared that he accepted this from God’s hand.17 Ordass has been

are found in (Balogh and Jeno ˝ 2005, 853). The other part of the dates is found in. (Ro ˝ zse, 20). 16 About the answers of the individual cities and villages regarding the nationalization of the denominational schools, look in the Political Historical and Trade Union Archives [PHTUA] in Budapest. Fond 274. Group 7. Nrs 270–275. 17 If somebody read through the newspapers of the time and believed them, he or she would be shocked at that catalogue of crimes the state accused Ordass of; besides foreign currency offence, the stealing of the savings book of a widow, the seduction of a christian and a consistent adversary 219 sentenced to two years in prison, he had to pay a 3,000 ft fi ne, and his civil rights were withdrawn for fi ve years. He spent his prison years in two prisons, and he was released from prison on May 30, 1950. On April 1, 1950, a special ecclesiastical court removed him from his bishop’s offi ce as well.18

Prolonged pardoning epoch—Bishop Ordass’ second period of bishop activity between November 1, 1956 and June 17, 1958

Events inside the ELCiH in 1956 In January, the leadership of the ELCiH believed that the year 1956 would be their most successful year due to two events. The fi rst event was the prospective Meeting of the Executive Committee of the World Council of Churches in Hungary (MoECoWCCiH) in Galyateto ˝ . The second event was the agreement on the so-called ‘Central Basis’ (Köz- ponti Alap) which meant the foundation of a fi nancial base from which the leadership could manage the different ecclesiastical expenses. Bishop László Dezséry directly said that these duties “. . . had been pointed by God himself . . .” (Dezséry 1956, 1)19 The MoECoWCCiH, lasted from July 27 until August 7, 1956. On this occasion, the July 29 edition of the Evangélikus Élet was published in English. Since it was to be expected that many of the leaders of the WCC and especially of the LWF would be asked about Bishop Ordass’ conditions, both the Hungarian Lutheran church leaders and the leaders of the State Offi ce for Church Affairs (SOCA) tried to get in touch with the,

the daughter of another widow, pursuing a luxurious way of life, etc. It was impossible at that time to publish disclaimers in the secular press, and the voice of the church was unable to refute these libels. Neither the protest of the LWF nor the WCC could help in this area. They received only mendacious messages from the Prime Minister Lajos Dinnyés. Sadly, also a newspaper of high standard, Magyar Nemzet [Hungarian Nation], gave place to both the lies of the then Prime Minister and his false answers to foreign church dignitaries in its September 17 edition. On the other side, Ordass’ trial was also a test trial to measure the tolerance of the Christian historical churches for a more important trial, namely the trial of Cardinal Mindszenty. With full knowledge of the results of the Ordass case, the communist state could calmly face the Mindszenty proceedings. 18 In retrospect, Bishop Ordass understood that the real purpose behind his sentence had been his removal from a position of church leadership and through this the facilitation of that route which led to a church-state agreement. 19 In Evangélikus Élet, to this day the ofﬁ cial weekly newspaper of the ELCiH. 220 eniko ˝ böröcz until then neglected, pontiff.20 On June 1, a Finnish newspaper—Kotim- maa—spoke of the necessity of the reexamination of Ordass’ case with regards to the MoECoWCCiH. All these facts together explain why ecclesiastical and state leaders hurried to see Bishop Ordass.21 After the arrival of the foreign guests, the negotiations were initiated on an ecclesiastical, international level and the result of these negotiations was an agreement which was signed both by the leader of the SOCA and by the prominent representatives of the LWF as well.22 On the last day of the MoECoWCCiH in Galyateto ˝ , the leaders of this meeting reported the ofﬁ cial results of the agreement at a press conference. After his rehabilitation Ordass wanted to start to give lectures at the ETA in Budapest.23 He would have lectured on the history of the Scandinavian reformation on the one hand and on the other hand of the results of the newest Scandinavian theological research work with primary interest on the areas of the Luther research; but it turned out differently.

20 The SOCA was established on May 1951 and since that time, this offi ce supervised the whole internal life of the Christian churches and later the Jewish community, as well. This institution represented the outreached hand of the state party. In Hungary, the separation of the state and church followed—not according to American but to French norms, and later became even more hostile towards the Christian churches. 21 Bishop Dezséry appeared without announcement in the fl at of Bishop Ordass on June 18, 1956 and they had a conversation that lasted for more than two hours. The conversation had two themes, namely the MoECoWCC and the internal situation of the ELCiH. The President of the SOCA—János Horváth—met Ordass twice—July 11 and 25—before the conference in Galyateto ˝ . The most important moment of the fi rst meeting was when Ordass introduced himself as a legitimate bishop of the ELCiH. 22 The text of this agreement can be found among others in LWB-Bericht August 9. Nrs 25–26. The agreement had four points: the representatives of the LWF wanted to see Bishop Ordass reinstated in his bishop’s seat soon. Ordass should be reinstated by the state, and he should get some fi nancial compensation as well. The Hungarian state would take into consideration the reinstatement of Ordass in all his rights. As long as this did not happen, Ordass would teach at the Evangelical Theological Academie in Budapest. The original plan of the President of the LWF, the German Hanns Lilje, was that the Ordass case should be negotiated offi cially during the conference in Galyateto ˝ , because he did not believe in reaching an agreement under non-offi cial negotiations behind the curtains. In the end, he gave his blessing to these negotiations. 23 The state rehabilitation took place on October 5 and the ecclesiastical on Octo- ber 8. a christian and a consistent adversary 221

The Hungarian revolution and its consequences for the life of the ELCiH Ordass always stressed the fact that his reinstatement took place before the outbreak of the Hungarian revolution, but it is beyond question that his return to the bishop’s service was accelerated by the Hungar- ian events. The Hungarian revolution lasted from October 23 until November 4, 1956, in Budapest, but in the countryside until the end of November 1956. The two “red” bishops of the ELCiH resigned from their bishop’s ofﬁ ces on October 30 and on November 1. Ordass returned to the bishop’s seat on November 1.24 At this moment, began the most blessed epoch of the history of the ELCiH after the Second World War.

Church governance during Ordass’ second period of bishop’s activity Bishop Ordass started his second period of bishop’s activity, again under conditions of war. It was a very typical sign of that time that his fi rst offi cial letter was addressed to the Soviet embassy because Soviet soldiers confi scated the bishop’s car.25 During his second period of bishop’s activity, Bishop Ordass had to face two governments: the fi rst led by the János Kádár government from November 4, 1956 until January 28, 1958 and the second from this time until June 17, 1958 by the Ferenc Münnich government. Both the Kádár and the Münnich governments proved to be governments of terror. This feature was joined with false behaviour that was directed to the misleading of the UNO and other world organizations, and practically all countries of the world.26 On November 2, 1956, Ordass delivered a speech on the Free Hungarian Kossuth Radio, and he also repeated his proclamation in Swedish, German and English languages. He confessed God as the Lord of history. He praised the work of guidance, the administrative means included, and begged them to realize that the Hungarian future could be imagined only under the guidance of God. Then he spoke to the

24 He did not return “on his own initiative” as the author of a small booklet declared in 1984. (Fabiny, 73–75). In Hungary, pastor László Csengo ˝ dy collected the suitable contrary opinions and he collected them in a manuscript. This manuscript can be found in the CAoELCiH in Budapest. In Switzerland, an article was published in the newspaper of the LWF. The author of this article is László Terray, a previous Hungarian and later Norwegian Lutheran pastor. (Terray 1985). 25 The letter can be found in CAoELCiH South-District materials Box 21. Nr. 882/1956. 26 See also the Central Archives of the WCC 42.3.054/2. 222 eniko ˝ böröcz members of the ELCiH. He begged them to identify themselves with the revolution of the Hungarian people, and begged them to understand the fact that the church would only be able to serve the country when “it puts its own life and deeds under the guidance of the holy word of God”. The last message was directed to the Christian brothers and sisters abroad. He begged them to acknowledge the government of Imre Nagy, to fi ght for the neutral status of Hungary, and to donate support for the families of the victims of casualties and other people in need of assistance.27 His fi rst ecclesiastical action was to call a meeting with attainable people on November 3, 1956 and they tried to start a new epoch in the life of the ELCiH. At this meeting, it was decided that Bishop Zoltán Túróczy would take over the guidance of the Northern District.28 On November 4, the church was still able to publish an edition of the offi cial ecclesiastical newspaper—Evangélikus Élet. Later, this edition was criticized a lot because it turned out that the church had identifi ed itself with the Hungarian revolution, and the articles refl ected almost the entire content of Ordass’ radio-proclamation.29 Both Ordass and Túróczy tried to reach the whole church. Ordass led all the congregations, partly by administrative means and partly through meetings. The administrative means included the bishop’s circulars, the press and aid services.30 The personal meetings included the visits of the church dioceses, the congregations, the different appointments and conferences.31 Both the administrative and the personal movements served a full theological, personal and structural renewal.

27 The text of the proclamation of Ordass can be found among others in: (Ordass 1998a, 577). 28 In the then ELCiH, the highest governmental organization was the Synod. Between two Synods, the Church was governed by a presidium which consisted of the Senior Bishop and the General Inspector. At that time the ELCiH had two church districts [their names were Northern and Southern] and 16 church dioceses and altogether more than 300 congregations. 29 After November 4, 1956, the ofﬁ cial newspaper of the ELCiH could only be published on March 24, 1957. 30 Bishop Ordass issued eight bishop’s circulars, Bishop Túróczy eleven, and they also issued two common bishop’s circulars. These circulars dealt with inner ecclesiastical news, state instructions, and actual duties. The press service was reorganized and completely placed into the service of the church. The gigantic aid service was well organized and all-embracing. 31 Both of the bishops tried to meet people on all levels of ecclesiastical life. We know of hundreds of such services. As for the conferences, 46 conferences with 2855 participants were arranged and these conferences lasted altogether 132 days. a christian and a consistent adversary 223

The theological renewal signifi ed a return to the Lutheran cross theology instead of the prevailing Barthian and other eclectic theologies.32 In the middle of the service of the church, the preaching of the gospel was readopted, i.e. law and gospel together. The necessity of a general repentance was mentioned again because “. . . there have been only a few people in our church who in the past times clung to the cross of Jesus Christ.”33 It was declared that a church could only be trustworthy if it was ready to change itself. The everyday policy may not separate the pastors and members of the church from each other. The church must always remain church. As for the personal issues, a double change took place. The “atten- dants” of the previous epoch disappeared at once and, instead of them, the people of the new epoch appeared. The changes happened on the all levels of ecclesiastical life—starting with the congregations and ending with the highest positions. In contrast to Ordass’ fi rst bishopsy, Bishop Ordass and Bishop Túróczy did not work against each other but together in the interest of the renewal of the whole church. On this point, the personal and structural cases were interwoven. These things were run parallel with each other. There were people who had to be rehabilitated, and there were others who had to leave their positions because they had been employed on the basis of their political reliability and not on the basis of the free elections by the church members. Ordass and his co-workers tried to carry out the removal of these people in a very discrete way. With these measures, they wanted to restore the legal order of the ELCiH. When Ordass appeared for the fi rst time among the pastors, he had two experiences. The fi rst one was very joyful. The majority of the pastors not only agreed on the changes but they supported them wholeheartedly. This meant a lot of extra duties but the majority of the pastors were ready to do this extra work. The other experience was very painful. It turned out that as a consequence of the acts of some pastors during the previous years, the old, confi dential relationship was broken among the pastors. The bishops had to do something in this

32 In the middle of the Lutheran theology of the cross, stands the facts of the cross and the resurrection of Jesus Christ who is the only mediator between God and human beings. The only means of the forgiveness of sins and the beginning of a new life is the faith in Jesus Christ. The good works are the fruits of this faith. 33 Lajos Ordass: Autobiographical writing—Continuation—Extract from the sug- gestion of Pastor László Scholz (Ordass 1998a, 580). 224 eniko ˝ böröcz area as well. They had to make the pastors understand that they were one team who were working for the same goal. These theological, personal and structural changes had to be carried out during terrible political and gradually worsening inner ecclesiastical conditions. The completely free status of the church only lasted for a short time. The second bishopry of Bishop Ordass was full with empty promises from the side of the state party. And the last part of his activity was burdened with undisguised attacks which were coming at once both from the side of a tiny but an extraordinary persistent inner-ecclesiastical and state opposition. Against this background, the accomplishment of that epoch is still greater.

Ordass’ statements of democracy on July 27, 1957 Bishop Ordass expounded his standpoint regarding democracy for the second time on July 27, 1957 at a meeting organized by the Patriotic Popular Front.34 He stated that democracy was there where . . . every person gives at the altar of the homeland what he/she can perform best of all, and what is the most expensive sacriﬁ ce (Ordass 1998a, 637–38). After this statement he spoke of his hope that the state would accept the service of the church in all times. The goal is that every generation has to pass on a more fortunate and just homeland to the next generations than it received from its ancestors. The Prime Minister Ferenc Münnich rejected his words and lectured him in a rude tone. Ordass never went to such a meeting again.

Church political considerations on inner ecclesiastical and international church political levels

During the time of cooperation between Bishops Ordass and Túróczy, the earlier so-called reporting service increased considerably.35 One can clearly distinguish the two different groups of people who carried out

34 The communist party guided this state organization but its members were not only communists, but also non-party people. Ordass appeared as a guest at this meeting at the special request of the President of the SOCA, János Horváth. 35 The majority of the members of the so-called progressive line—clerical and lay—blackmailed people inside the church, and offi cials of different state offi ces continued the so-called reporting service that meant the passing on of different personal a christian and a consistent adversary 225 this reporting service. To the fi rst group belonged those people who sympathized either by heart or colour with the communist party state and its church policy. The second group of people who provided information was the group of people who were blackmailed by the state or persons from the fi rst group. Among the above mentioned people, Bishop Lajos Veto ˝ provided most information. For a long time, he did not give his information to the representatives of SOCA but directly to the adequate department of the Ministry of the Interior. In his fi rst reports, Bishop Veto˝ declared the activity of Bishop Túróczy illegitimate and only his own as legitimate. He also attacked SOCA because “. . . it maintains the counter-revolutionary leadership and it is hardly taking care of the removed progressive pastors”.36 The code name of Bishop Veto ˝ was ‘Veres’ (meaning: red). According to his point of view, he and his fellows supported peace (namely pax Sovietica) and socialism and they fought for the success of the cooperative farms. In spite of these deeds they had been removed from their positions and they had been stigmatized not only by the Ordass/Túróczy line but also by the SOCA itself. As for his proposals, he asked for the support of the special department of the Ministry of the Interior to try to force Bishop Ordass to reinstate him to the bishop’s seat, in such a way that he (Bishop Veto ˝ ) could be rehabilitated also in the presence of the representatives of the LWF and WCC.37 The other accounts of Bishop Veto ˝ are of similar nature. Summing up what was said here, Bishop Veto ˝ wanted to force the Ordass group to establish a large coalition inside the church.38 In this case, he would have accepted Bishop Ordass as his co-worker. The group of blackmailed people was very broad, as it included those who and other information regarding church life. This activity was very strong especially in 1948 and between 1956–58. 36 Bishop Veto ˝ ’s report was written on January 25, 1957. The report can be found in: Historical Offi ce [HO = the full name of the Archives of this Offi ce is Historical Offi ce of the State Security Services!] III/III. Object File. Evangelical-Lutheran Reac- tion. 0–13–599/1. Page 2. 37 As a consequence of the Hungarian Revolution in 1956, SOCA was abolished and it started to work as a department of the then Ministry of Cultural Affairs. Besides, this special department of the Ministry of Interior—its name was State Security Offi ce dealt still with church affairs. Since the leader of the succession offi ce of the former SOCA showed a special loyalty towards Bishop Ordass until August 1957, ‘red’ Bishop Veto ˝ could only turn to this other offi ce with his “grievances”. 38 Under large coalition, the ‘red’ Bishop Veto ˝ understood fi rst the common governing of the so-called ‘progressive’, the confessional and the revival lines. Later he spoke of a small coalition between his and Ordass’ line without the revival line. 226 eniko ˝ böröcz were reluctant and those who had enjoyed their work and the power linked to it. As for the international church political level, one has to mention the international SOCA conference that was organized in Budapest between September 2 and 7, 1957.39 The representatives of this conference knew that the greatest changes happened exactly to the ELCiH under the guidance of Bishop Ordass, and they also knew that Bishop Ordass was elected as the fi rst Vice President of the LWF in Minneapolis in August 1957 and one of his best friends, the American Franklin Clark Fry, became the President of the same organization. Against the background of these events, the international SOCAs conference promised to be very interesting.40 The President of the Hungarian SOCA—János Horváth—said of Bishop Ordass: Bishop Ordass wants to have a good relationship with the government. Politically he is not an enemy of the regime, but he wants to utilize this good cooperation in order to secure a very broad and deep church life—often going too far. We now work on the plan that we solve the problems of the ELCiH within the coming weeks.41 As for the international utilization of the person and reputation of Bishop Ordass, the President of the Hungarian SOCA said, among other things:

39 Already in 1948, delegates of the Communist Parties under Soviet occupation came together in Karlovy Vary to discuss their policy on religious matters. See (Török 2003, 77). Until now, two researchers have dealt with the themes of the international SOCA conferences from 1957 until 1989. See (Dohle 1994, 16–26; Heise, 31–48). Both researchers seem to demonstrate that the SOCA meetings only wanted to determine the cooperation on the international areas (Vatican policy, WCC, LWF, etc.) but they did not touch the inner church policy of the individual countries. If somebody researches the church-history of the individual churches of the communist countries he/she can point out many similaries as well. Between 1957–89, there were 44 SOCA meetings. The ﬁ rst and the last conferences were organized in Budapest between September 2 and 8, 1957 resp. between March 24 and 26, 1986. The last but one meeting was organized in Ulan-Bator in Mongolia. This extension of the international SOCA meetings shows that the communists wanted to dominate every inch of life, including religious life as well. 40 Representatives of six countries (SU, Rumania, Czechoslovakia, German Demo- cratic Republic, Poland and Hungary) took part in the conference in Budapest. 41 The presentation of the President of the Hungarian SOCA during the international SOCA conference in Budapest. The presentation can be found among others in BAiB German SOCA material 00–35–00. Volume 4. Nr. 23 836/0706, and also in MOLL SOCA-material XIX-A-21 a. Box 19. Page 30. a christian and a consistent adversary 227

Bishop Ordass has a very large international prestige. This derives from that fact that he was a martyr for eight years. The western churches fought for his rehabilitation and they could do this only by praising him to the skies. Now that he is rehabilitated, they cannot drive back his prestige. We decided to use this prestige to our own advantage.42 The conference decided to bring together Bishop Ordass and other church leaders from the socialist countries. The name of Joseph L. Hromadka appeared. The Czech Reformed theologian was a disciple of Karl Barth and a great friend of the socialist society. He was revered from the side of the socialist camp, and was rejected by the majority of the western churches. Those plans, which were presented during the SOCA conference in Budapest both regarding the restoring order inside the ELCiH and the (ab)use of Bishop Ordass’ prestige inside the different church world organizations were stillborn, but still the communist party state tried to rush them through. They should have known that Bishop Ordass would never be their partner; neither in the realization of restoring order nor in utilizing his good name abroad. The last epoch of the second period of bishop’s activity of Bishop Ordass reveals this mud-wrestling.

The Aftermath

Ordass was not willing to work together with Bishop Lajos Veto ˝ , the then General Inspector of the ELCiH, or the Inspector of his own church district because these people did not obtain their legitimation from the congregations of the ELCiH but from the communist state power. The government knew that it had to do something if it wanted the situation changed. The government decided to use a law which has been issued early in 1957. This law No. 22 of 1957 regulated the ﬁ lling in of the more important ecclesiastical positions. Although this law was not applicable in the case of Bishop Ordass he was forced to leave his ofﬁ ce anyway. In the last month of his bishopry he suffered two heart attacks. He expressed his personal opinion like this: “Personally I feel relief but the fate of the church weighs heavily on me.” Until his death he lived in internal exile. He translated different theological and other works. He wrote preaching volumes, he corresponded with numerous people, and he wrote his memoirs as well. He prayed

42 Ibid. 228 eniko ˝ böröcz a lot, and he took part in worship in the congregation where he lived. Bishop Káldy tried to forbid him attending church, but the pastors of that congregation did not agree on this. In those days only those people could rise to the top inside the church, who called the revolution in 1956 a counter-revolution, and the second period of bishop’s activity of Ordass a counter-revolutionary activity. The ecclesiastical world organizations, WCC and the LWF supported the new church leaders in such a way that they prevented telling the truth both in the case of Ordass and the real state of the ELCiH. The election of ‘red’ Bishop Zoltán Káldy as President of the LWF in 1984 in Budapest showed that the LWF seemed to drift away both from the person of Bishop Ordass and the real history of his church.

Conclusion

If we want to determine the nature of the resistance of Bishop Ordass both regarding the church and democracy, we can point to the following facts: to Bishop Ordass, the church was a sacred and a human reality which must be testifi ed, defended, and if necessary criticized and transformed. Against this background, it is easy to understand that Ordass took both sides of the church seriously and his resistance was in accordance with the prevailing status of the church at his time. In his life, we can fi nd both the signs of active and passive resistance. One can mention two stories of his active resistance, one from his fi rst and one from his second period as bishop. Since he was unable to accept both the nationalization of the ecclesiastical schools and the yielding negotiations of his fellow bishops with the state in 1948, Bishop Ordass decided to declare the separation of his church district from the three bishops and their church districts. Bishop Ordass clearly told his fellow bishops that as they would not go together with him “. . . I will go my own independent way with my Montana district.” (Ordass 1985a, 294–95). Moreover, the majority of the pastors and offi cers of all the four districts had the same point of views and they strongly criticized the behaviour of the leaders of the other three districts. His arrest prevented Bishop Ordass from realizing this plan. Nine years later, in December 1957, his fellow bishop Zoltán Túróczy had been removed by the state from his bishop’s offi ce and ‘red’ Bishop Lajos Veto ˝ was reinstated in his place. Bishop Ordass broke off all relations with him and his bishop’s offi ce. From this time until his own removal in June 1958, he practized his bishop’s service under these limited conditions. a christian and a consistent adversary 229

One can say the same regarding his resistance towards the power of the state. He did not look for quarrels with the state, but he did not evade the debates if he experienced something wrong in the plans and instruments of them. He expected the state to handle the church on the basis of the church’s own mission and not only on the basis of the notions of the politics of the state. The most characteristic example of this is the long letter from Bishop Ordass to the President of the SOCA at the end of October 1957, in which he summarized all problems which poisoned the good state-church relationship.43 Since the President of the SOCA did not accept the arguments of Bishop Ordass, the state-church relationship went from bad to worse. However, this was not the fault of Bishop Ordass. The greatest active resistance action of Bishop Ordass was directed at the church and state and it lasted for ﬁ ve years. This was the famous Pietro action of which details have been revealed only in recent years. The substance of this action was the following: between 1951 and 1956, Bishop Ordass—under the Pietro pseudonym—guided a monumental aid campaign which was directed towards the Lutheran victims of the communist dictatorship.44 Summing up, we can state that Bishop Ordass was not incapable of being a church leader in the above mentioned epochs but the ecclesiastical and worldly epochs were not capable of listening to his warnings! Furthermore, we may ask whether today’s church and world is more capable?

References

Baer, David H. (no year). The Struggle of Hungarian Lutherans under Communism. Texas A&M University Press College Station. Balogh, Margit and Gergely Jeno ˝ . 2005. Állam, egyházak, vallásgyakorlás Magyarországon (trans. State, churches, public worship in Hungary) 1790–2005. Volume II. Historical Institute of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. Budapest: Historia. Circle of the Bishops. 1947. Lelkipásztor (trans. Pastor): Autumn. August 1. Gyo ˝ r. Dezséry, László. 1956. In Evangélikus Élet (trans. Evangelical Life). Volume XXI. January 1, 1956.

43 This letter could be found among others in the Hungarian National Archives among the SOCA materials under sign and number XIX-A-21-a 257-14/1957. 44 The history of the Pietro action can be found among others in the Central archives of the LWF in Geneve among others under the signs and numbers WS III. 2 a 1957–58. 230 eniko ˝ böröcz

Dohle, Horst. 1994. “Die Rolle des Staatsämtertagungen für die Kirchen Politik der realsozialistischen Ländern 1945–1989”. Lecture. Evangelische Akademie Berlin- Brandenburg. Berlin. Gereben, Ágnes 2001. Egyház az ateista államban (trans. Church in an atheist state) 1917–25. Publishing house Budapest: PolgART. Fabiny, Tibor, sen. 1984. Hope Preserved—The Past and Present of Hungarian Lutheranism. Giczi, Zsolt. 2003. “Auf gefahrvollem Weg—Über das Verhältnis zwischen der Staats- macht und der lutherischen Kirche in Ungarn von 1948 bis 1950” (trans. “Route full of dangers—About the relationship between the state power and the ELCiH”). In Lutherische Kirche in der Welt Jahrbuch des Martin-Luther Bund. Folge 50.2003. Heise, Joachim L. (no year). “Die Staatsämter für Kirchenfragen sozialistischer Staaten und ihre Kontakte- ein Überblick.” (trans. “The SOCAs and their contacts—a survey”). Lecture. In Schriftenreihe des Instituts für vergleichende Staat-Kirche-Forschung. Booklet 12. Leroy, Roland. In Kommunismus és nácizmus. Gondolatok a 20.századi totalitarizmusokról, Alain de Benois. Budapest. Munk, Kaj. 1980. Három dráma—Az ige; Tu ˝ zpròba/Kohóban; A bíró urak. Frede- ricia: Lohses Forlag. Ordass Lajos Archives. Central Archives of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Budapest, Hungary (CAoELCiH DOLA). Ordass, Lajos. 1985a. “Önéletrajzi Írások” (trans. “Autobiographical Writings”). Válogatta, szerkesztette és az utószót írta.” (trans. “The wind-storm of the war is sweeping”). In Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegyetem, ed. István Szépfalusi. Bern: European Hungarian Adult Education. ——. 1985b. “Válogatott Írások” (trans. “Selected writings”). Válogatta, szerkesztette és az utószót írta” (trans. “The wind-storm of the war is sweeping”). In Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegyetem, ed. István Szépfalusi. Bern: European Hungarian Adult Education. ——. 1998a. “Önéletrajzi Írások. Folytatás” (trans. “Autobiographical Writings. Con- tinuation”). Válogatta, szerkesztette és az utószót írta” (trans. “The wind-storm of the war is sweeping”). In Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegyetem, ed. István Szépfalusi. (1st ed. Bern 1985). Budapest. ——. 1998b. “Válogatott Írások. Folytatás” (trans. “Selected writings. Continuation”). Válogatta, szerkesztette és az utószót írta” (trans. “The wind-storm of the war is sweeping”). In Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegyetem, ed. István Szépfalusi. (1st ed. Bern 1985). Budapest. Ordass Lajos, Kapi Béla, Kuthy Dezso ˝ , bishops, and Vice Bishop Marcsek János. 1985. “A demokráciára vonatkozó elvi álláspontról”. Episcopal Letter of July 25, 1946. In “Válogatott Írások (trans. “Selected writings”). In Európai Protestáns Magyar Szabadegy- etem, ed. István Szépfalusi. Bern: European Hungarian Adult Education. Pétursson, Hallgrimur. 1974. Passió-énekek (trans. Passions’ Songs). Translated by Ordass Lajos. Reykjavik: The congregation of Hallgrimur. Pölöskei, Ferenc, Jeno ˝ Gergely, and Lajos Izsák, ed. (no year). Magyarország története 1918–1990. University course book. Korona Publ. Ravasz, László. 1992. “Emlékezéseim” (trans. “Memories”). Református Egyház Zsinati Irodájának Sajtóosztálya (trans. Press Department of the Synodal Ofﬁ ce of the Reformed Church). Budapest. Ro ˝ zse, István. (no year). A halál árnyékának völgyében; Bishop Ordass Friends Circle. Terray, László. 1985. “Aus eigenem Entschluss: Zur Diskussion um Bischof Lajos Ordass”. (trans. “On my own decision: For a debate on Bishop Ordass”). In Lutherische Monatshefte, Volume 24. Nr. 4. April. ——. 1997. He couldn’t do otherwise: Bishop Lajos Ordass 1901–1978. Translated from Ger- man by Eric W. Gritsch. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdman Publishing Company. Grand Rapids, Michigan/Cambridge, U.K. a christian and a consistent adversary 231

Török, Péter. 2003. Hungarian Church-State Relationships. Budapest: Collected Studies of the Hungarian Institute for Sociology of Religion. Vajta, Vilmos. 1987. A diakóniai teológia a magyar társadalmi rendszerben (trans. Die diakonische Theologie im Gesellschaftssystem Ungarns). German version: Frankfurt am Main : Verlag Otto Lembeck. Hungarian version: Luther Publ. Veto ˝ , Ludwig. 1955. Vom Aufbau der Kirche in Ungarn MCMLV Berlin: Union Verlag. Werth, Nicolas. 2000. “Egy állam a népe ellen Ero ˝ szak, elnyomás, rémuralom a Szov- jetunióban”. In A Kommunizmus fekete könyve —Bu ˝ntény, terror, megtorlás, ed. Stephane Courtois, Nicolas Werth, Jean-Louis Panné, Karel Bartosek, Jean-Louis Margolin, Andrzej Paczkowski. Nagyvilág. Zászkaliczky, Pál. 2000. “Ordass Lajos Baráti Kör folyóirata”. (trans. “The posthumous honour of Bishop Ordass”). In Keresztyén Igazság. New Series Number 46. 2000. Summer Page 4.

List of abbreviations

CAoELCH Central Archives of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Hungary CAoELCH DOLA Central Archives of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Hungary Doctor Ordass Lajos Archives CAoLWF Central Archives of the Lutheran World Federation ELCiH Evangelical-Lutheran Church in Hungary ETA Evangelical Lutheran Academy LWF Lutheran World Federation MoECoWCCiH Meeting of the Executive Committee of the World Council of Churches in Hungary PHTUA Political Historical and Trade Union Archives SOCA State Ofﬁ ce for Church Affairs WCC World Council of Churches

CHAPTER NINE

OSCAR ARNULFO ROMERO: THE DEFENDER OF THE POOR

Paul Gerhard Schoenborn

Óscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdámez (1917–1980) was born into a poor family of Cindad Barrios, El Salvador. After having served his apprenticeship as a carpenter, he studied theology in San Salvador and Rome. Here, he was ordained a Catholic priest in 1942 and licensed theologian in 1943. For 23 years, he served as a parish priest in Anamorós and also as Secretary of the Bishop of San Miguel. In addition, he was chosen Secretary of the Episcopal Conference of El Salvador in 1967. After 5 years of working as an auxiliary bishop in the Archdiocese of San Salvador, he became Bishop of the Diocese of Santiago de Maria in 1975. From 1977 to the day of his assassination, March 24th 1980, he worked as Archbishop of San Salvador. It was the political murder of one of the priests of his archdiocese that opened his eyes to the ongoing repression and injustice in his country. From then on, he protested openly against the violations of the poor by the ruling oligarchy. As the voice of the poor, he was eliminated himself. His four Pastoral Letters (1977–1980) and his address to the University of Louvain in answer to the conferral of a doctorate honoris causa (1980) have become crucial texts of the Theology of Liberation.

The Murder

Oscar Arnulfo Romero, Archbishop of San Salvador, was murdered on March 24th, 1980. While celebrating Mass in the Chapel of Divine Providence Hospital, a sniper shot him dead. One has to go back 800 years into the past to fi nd a similar example of bloodshed in the midst of a Christian country. On December 29th, 1170, Archbishop Thomas Beckett was beaten to death at the altar in Canterbury Cathedral. The El Salvadoran judiciary has never solved the murder. The enquiries were long and drawned out; members of the judiciary who were given the responsibility of offi cial enquiries were intimidated and found their lives threatened. Witnesses were kidnapped and disappeared without trace. In 1992 after the end of the civil war, the UN installed a Committee of Truth to discover violations against Human Rights in El Salvador 234 paul gerhard schoenborn between 1977 and 1991. To the murder of Romero the commission pointed out: the politician and former intelligence offi cer Roberto D’Aubuisson, founder of the right-wing party ARENA, planned the action with the help of the police offi cer Colonel Alvaro Rafael Savaria. It was he who entrusted Hector Antonio Regalado, a Cuban professional killer who lived in exile in El Salvador, to carry out the murder. Regalado was taken to the place of action by Savaria’s personal chauffeur, Amando Antonio Garay, who also drove him home immediately after the fatal shot. Savaria paid the sniper and reported to D’Aubuisson that the job had been done.1 On March 20th, 1993, the report of the Committee of Truth was published. Only a few days later, the government issued an Amnesty Act, and the fi le on the murder of Romero was fi nally closed, together with thousands of similar fi les. The murderers and their accomplices were never punished in El Salvador. However, on September 3rd, 2004, a federal judge in Fresno, California, found the former Colonel Alvaro Rafael Savaria guilty of active involvement in the murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero and sentenced him to a fi ne of 10 million US dollars. Romero’s family and the Legal Aid Offi ce of the archdiocese of San Salvador had taken Savaria to court. Savaria had lived in the USA since 1987. He was not present at the trial, but as a witness, his former personal chauffeur Amando Antonio Garay was. D’Aubuisson was already dead at that time (Brockmann 2005, 249ff.; Hernández 1996; Maier 2001, 154ff.; Rechtsschutzbüro 2005a, 45ff.).

Who was Oscar Romero?

Oscar Arnulfo Romero was born the second of eight children in Ciu- dad Barrios, a remote village in eastern El Salvador on August 15th, 1917. His familiy lived modestly. As his father wanted him to become a craftsman, he put him in apprenticeship as a carpenter when he was

1 Offi cia de Canonización de Monseñor Romero. “De la Locura a la Esperanza—la Guerra de los Doce Años en El Salvador—Reporte de la Comisión de la Verdad para El Salvador—Caso Ilustrativo Arzobispo Romero 1980–1992—1993” and: “Comisión Inter- americana de Derechos Humanos—Organización de los Estados Americanos—Asesinato Monsenor Oscar Arnulfo Romero y Galdamez, Caso 11.481, Informe N° 37/00, 13 de abril de 2000”. http://www.romeroes.com/menu_principal.html (accessed December 9th, 2006). the defender of the poor 235 thirteen. After a short time, though still reluctant, he let him go to the minor seminary in San Miguel. From that time on, Oscar Romero felt a call to become a priest. In 1937, he entered the Jesuits’ Theologi- cal Seminary in San Salvador. There he became acquainted with the “Spiritual Exercises” of Ignatius of Loyola. They supported the kind of life he wanted to live: a radical following of Jesus. His way of life and spirituality was shaped forever, as may be seen by what is witnessed through his “A Shepherd’s Diary”: He practised private, spiritual exercises every year—mostly with a Jesuit brother as his spiritual care. He always had an acute eye on what he was doing in the face of Christ, because it was Him, the shepherd, whom he wanted to become like. As his episcopal motto, he chose a sentence out of the “Spiritual Exercises” of Ignatius of Loyola: “Sentire cum ecclesia—To be One Mind and Heart with the Church”. Based upon this deep personal spirituality, he kept up good relations also with members of Opus Dei in El Salvador and esteemed their efforts to serve Christ (Romero 1986, 179, 321; Brockman 2005, 243).2 In the middle of 1937, Romero‘s bishop sent him to the Grego- rian University in Rome in order to intensify his theological studies. Here, he experienced at fi rst hand the misery and destruction of the Second World War. In 1943, before having fi nished his doctorate, he was ordered back to his home country because of a desperate lack of priests there. Soon, he was appointed secretary of the diocese of San Miguel, a duty he fulfi lled alongside his parochial responsibilities for 23 years. In 1970, he was vocated auxiliary bishop in the diocese of Archbishop Luis Chavez, San Salvador, and, in 1974, he became bishop of Santiago de Maria. Oscar Romero was highly estimated as an active and pious servant of the Roman Catholic Church. He was an extremely conscientious Catholic priest (Brockman 1990). He devoted himself to the Pope and to the doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church throughout his life. Theologically shaped in the years before Vatican II (1962–1965), he nevertheless followed its decisions obediently, even though he had certain diffi culties with their realisa- tions by the second conference of the Latin American Bishops’ Council (CELAM) in Medellin 1968. He had more than a critical view on the liberation theology (Brockman 1990, 45–46, 56ff.; Maier 2001, 29ff.).

2 Only a few hours before his last service he went “with a priest of Opus Dei for a picnic and study session at the seashore with a group of priests”. 236 paul gerhard schoenborn

So, he intensely examined the resolutions of Medellin, but when he was convinced that they fulﬁ lled the doctrine of the church and that they were a contextual interpretation of Vatican II, he fought for their implementation without compromises. He sometimes argued a little too forcefully; but we may understand that as reﬂ ections of inner tensions and scruples not to make any mistake but stay loyal to his vocation and to his priesthood (Collet 1969, 44–47, 50–54). On February 22nd, 1977, Oscar Romero was instituted as Archbishop of San Salvador. Beforehand, the papal nuncio Archbishop Emanuele Gerada had carefully agreed the matter with the important persons of El Salvador. They voted for a conservative, ‘non-political’ archbishop to be the highest representative of their country’s Catholic church and Oscar Romero seemed to them the most suitable priest. They wished he would not stand by the poor, the rural workers and the small farmers as much as his predecessor Archbishop Luis Chavez had done. These plans, however, were confounded.

Converted to the Poor

Oscar Romero was 59 years old when his life took a radical turn. On Saturday, March 12th, 1977, the Jesuit Rutilio Grande, a priest in the rural parish of Aguilares in the northern part of San Salvador, was killed. His verger and a teenage boy were with him on a parish course. They also died. The organisation of the big landowners (FARO) assumed the responsibility for the murder (Meier 1981, 41ff.). Rutilio Grande was a close friend of Romero’s. He worked hard for improvement of the standard of living of the rural workers and the dependent farmers. Conﬂ icts with the big landowners took place over and over again. They accused him of Marxist agitations. He received several death threats. To the Catholic Church of El Salvador, Rutilio Grande was a symbol of Christian solidarity with the poor. To Romero, this violent death was a disclosure event. He now became aware of the abuses of power in his country and the interests and methods of its rulers. He immediately hurried to Aguilares and in the same night celebrated a mass in the midst of the congregation together with other priests, who had also come to pray and show their solidarity. As he often mentioned later, March 12th, 1977 became the crucial day in Romero’s life. Was it a “conversion”? “If only I were converted!” he used to answer. The impact of the word “conversion” seemed too high to him. the defender of the poor 237

The experiences in the night of March 12th, 1977, determined Romero’s further life. He consequently sided with the victims of the suppression by the rich upper class. Two days later, the memorial mass was celebrated in the Cathedral of San Salvador for the three victims. More than one hundred priests concelebrated. The mass was not only an expression of mourning about the dreadful deed, but also a protest on behalf of all the victims of the harassments that had been shocking El Salvador for years. Romero’s homily was broadcasted by the arch- diocesan radio. He declared Rutilio Grande’s commitment completely true to the line of the church and his preaching of liberation according to the gospel entirely nurtured by faith. Romero pointed out: . . . and because it is often misunderstood, even to the point of homicide, Father Rutilio Grande died. . . . Who knows if the murderers are listening to a radio in their hideout, listening in their conscience to this word. We want to tell you, murderous brothers, that we love you and that we ask of God repentance for your hearts, because the church is not able to hate, it has no enemies. Its only enemies are those who want to declare themselves so. But the church loves them and dies like Christ: ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.’ (Brockman 2005, 10). After intensive deliberation with the clergy, Romero ordered that, on the following Sunday, all the services in the diocese should be cancelled. Only one single central mass should be celebrated in the cathedral of San Salvador with all priests and believers of the archdiocese. Those who were perhaps not able to participate, were asked to join this Mass at their radios. That was an absolutely unusual and incredible measure. It was meant as a demonstration of protest against violence in the country and a call for politics to change. Prominent personalities of the Salvadoran society as well as the church dignitary outside the archdiocese protested. They regarded the central mass as an act of interference, of stirring up the people and criticizing the representatives of the power. Indeed, the experience of these days became the root of a lasting rift between Romero and the papal nuncio and some of his brother bishops. The persecution of the church went on. On May 11th, 1977, Father Alfonso Navarro was killed. His prophetic homilies and his support of protesting grassroots communities were not accepted. One week later armed forces surrounded the town of Aguilares in the course of purges, because a group of campesinos, rural workers, had maintained a sugar cane plantation. 38 persons were shot dead, the vicarage and the church were vandalized, the tabernacle with the Blessed Sacrament was 238 paul gerhard schoenborn opened and desecrated. Romero was prevented by force from entering the church to rescue the Blessed Sacrament.

The Political Situation before Romero became Archbishop of San Salvador

Romero became archbishop in the capital of a country that was suffering from severe social and political confl icts for decades.3 After El Salvador had freed itself from Spain in 1821, a class of cafetaleros had developed, owners of coffee plantations, who were becoming richer and richer. Step by step they expropriated the common ground of the Indios, the indigenous population, and drove them into less productive areas. For more than a hundred years these people were forced to work on the fi ncas at the lowest wages which were barely enough to live on. Later this development continued with the extensive cultivation of cotton and sugar cane. The owners of smaller plantations were outclassed by a few big landowners. It was the oligarchy of the so-called “Fourteen Families” that ruled the country. In 1932, an uprising of the campesinos was brutally suppressed. More than 30,000 were killed. From then on, the oligarchy believed in being able to protect their specifi c society from any change by acts of terror. In the 60’s, something unexpected happened. The Christian base communities came into existence and with them a new kind of resistance with a different organisational pattern. Young theologians, inspired by the liberation theology, went to live and work in the rural areas. Their local church work was geared towards social justice, especially after the second conference of the Latin American Bishops’ Coun- cil (CELAM) of Medellin in 1968. The ecclesial base communities maintained close connections with the union of the rural workers, the “Christian Federation of Salvadoran Campesinos” (FECCAS). Most of the catechists became organizers of local FECCAS-groups, which now

3 For the political situation in El Salvador, see these descriptions and analyses: Manfred Heckhorn. Die Enkel des Jaguar—El Salvador, Einblicke in ein kleines Land (Berlin: Rotbuch Verlag, 1983). El Salvador: Der Aufschrei eines Volkes—ein Bericht der Zentralamerika- nischen Universität in San Salvador (Mainz: Matthias Grünewald Verlag/München: Chri- stian Kaiser Verlag, 1984). Ignatio Martín-Baró. Oscar Arnulfo Romero—die Stimme eines geschundenen Volkes in: Oscar Arnulfo Romero—Blutzeuge für das Volk Gottes (Olten-Freiburg: Walter-Verlag, 1986). Johannes Meier. Die Kirche, der Bischof Romero diente: Das Erzbistum San Salvador in: Giancarlo Collet/Justin Rechsteiner (Hg.). Vergessen heißt verraten (Wup- pertal: Peter Hammer Verlag, 1990). the defender of the poor 239 started all over the country. They kept a permanent relationship to the grassroots communities and to the churches of the liberation theology. Beside FECCAS, the illegal “Union of Rural Workers” (UTC) came into existence. In 1975, the two organisations merged. The unexpected rise of the poor people called the traditional mecha- nisms of ruling the country into question. In 1962, the big landowners established the Organización Democrática Nacionalista—Democratic Nationalist Organization (ORDEN), which, with the help of informers, paramilitary groups and secret associations such as the “Union of the White Warriors”, assumed care for stabilising the present balance of power. The Christian base communities and the unions of rural workers were equally terrorised. The inner political confl icts extended, as the worldwide antagonism between the western capitalism and the eastern communism was projected onto them. The campesinos’ urge for just wages and a general reform of land distribution was nothing else but the desire to safeguard their daily lives; the big landowners, however, only perceived the motto of a Marxist class struggle and the trumpets of a world revolution. More and more Catholic priests were accused of being communists and of working towards an overthrow of the political status quo.4 A lot of clergymen from abroad were deported. In 1977, you could read the slogan “Be a patriot, kill a priest!” in fl yers and as graffi ti on the walls (Brockmann 2005, 28). In 1977, the level of organisation of the masses was signifi cantly higher in El Salvador than in Nicaragua. The change of the economic and political structures seemed to be feasible at that time.

The Political Situation after Romero had become Archbishop of San Salvador

The above describes the situation when Oscar Romero was inducted as archbishop on February 22nd, 1977. Almost at the same time, the

4 In 1975, in accordance to the “Bantzer-Plan”, inaugurated by the CIA, the more ‘progressive’ part of the Catholic church of Bolivia was isolated and oppressed. The same was repeated in El Salvador. A certain part of the church was persecuted. Certain members of the Salvadoran bishops’ conference were hostile towards Oscar Romero. The “Bantzer-Plan” was an implementation of the anticommunist National Security Doctrine, adapted at that time from the USA by the Latin American governments. Text of the Bantzer-Plan in: Jürgen Moltmann (Hg.). Bekennende Kirche wagen—Barmen 1934–1984 (München: Christian Kaiser Verlag, 1984): 186–190. 240 paul gerhard schoenborn presidential election took place. By means of manipulating the election results, the then Minister of Defence General Carlos Humberto Romero was proclaimed the “winner”. He had ofﬁ cially promised the oligarchy “to do away with the jeopardizing elements of the church” (Martín-Baró). Exactly how unstable the situation in El Salvador was, can be seen from the fact that, in Oscar Romero’s three-year period of ofﬁ ce, he had to cope with four governments. None of them was able to prevent the outbreak of a civil war—to be more precise: a war of the oligarchy against the people.5 With the help of the USA,6 the oligarchy even used the methods of “counterinsurgency” and “low-intensity-warfare” (Terre des Hommes 1989, 19–18; Duchrow and Eisenberger and Hippler 1989, 16–61) developed in the war with Vietnam. Complete regions were emptied of inhabitants by bombings and shootings. When on February 16th, 1991, the civil war ended, more than 75,000 people had lost their lives and more than one million Salvadorans were made refugees. Large parts of the country were devastated, and its economic development was set back by at least twenty years.

The Archbishop’s Consequences

These were the political circumstances when Oscar Romero was in ofﬁ ce as archbishop. He was in charge of the whole church of his country, and he committed himself to the welfare of his fatherland. The murder of Rutilio Grande had been the turning point for him to side with the oppressed. From now on, he analysed what was going on from the point of view of the poor. He declared the materialistic interests of the oligarchy to be the main reason for the multiple cases of structural violence of the state. He exposed the actions of the army and the security forces as repressive power. Although they claimed to

5 Helmut Frenz, Norbert Greinacher, Ursula Junk, Bernd Päschke. El Salvador—Mas- saker im Namen der Freiheit (Hamburg: rororo aktuell 5027, 1982). Bernd Päschke. Salva- dorianische Passion—Semana Santa in El Salvador (Münster: edition liberación, 1985). Bernd Päschke. Befreiung von unten lernen—Zentralamerikanische Herausforderung theologischer Praxis (Münster: edition liberación, 1986). Maria López Vigil. Tod und Leben in Morazan—Das Zeugnis eines Priesters (Baden-Baden: Signal-Verlag, 1987). Christliche Initiative Romero Münster (Hg.) Das Zeugnis von Zacamil—Aus dem Leben einer Basisgemeinde (Oberursel: Publik-Forum Dokumentation, 1987). 6 List of military and economic support by the USA in: El Salvador: Der Aufschrei eines Volkes: 54–62. the defender of the poor 241

fi ght for law and order and the people’s safety, their real aim was to suppress the desperate protests of the poor. The archbishop became a prominent champion of the liberation theology. Based upon his radical faith, blessed with a strong will and the capacity of organising, he made use of the episcopal means of taking infl uence, for instance: his staff, money, rooms, to bring about the implementation of Medellin in his diocese. On the other hand, he was known as a highly estimated pastoral counsellor and preacher. The majority of the clergy and nuns, the leading members of the ecclesial base communities and the committed laypersons in his diocese followed him willingly. Most of his fellow bishops, however, regarded Romero’s commitment as theologically wrong and politically misplaced, or as subversive if not as the result of an infi ltration by communist priests. Romero was certain of how the Latin American Church should side with the poor. His own way of living was a convincing example: he lived modestly in a small three room extension of a hospital instead of the episcopal residence. He had the archive of his offi ce turned into a cafeteria. Here, people who needed help could speak to him at any time of the day. Here his staff and visitors exchanged information with him and discussed what had to be done. Romero avoided autocratic decisions; his force was achieving consensus. He stopped the ongoing building work on the cathedral in San Salvador. When he received auxiliary money from abroad for the church building, he did not use it for this purpose, but for the church’s support of the poor. Since he had been a diocesan secretary, he had learned to work with the media in favour of the church. Therefore, he took care of a well- working printing equipment for the diocesan press, and especially of the extension of the episcopal radio station YSAX. The Sunday broadcast of his sermons7 were received in the whole of Central America; the ratings amounted to 75%. The episcopal broadcast received letters from listeners such as these: I always listen to YSAX and each day my faith grows, because I had never felt that the church was so close to us poor people. We wish to tell you that your homilies and talks move us to continue stronger and more forceful in this struggle to build a more just order and beginning fi rst with ourselves (Brockman 2005, 77).

7 Oscar Romero was an enthusiastic preacher, blessed with the charisma of the ‘living word’. The eight volumes of “Monseñor Óscar A. Romero. Su pensamiento” consist of transcripts; they are not based upon manuscripts. 242 paul gerhard schoenborn

By all that, Romero created a critical counter public. News, offi cially suppressed, was brought to public attention. In his Sunday homilies, he fi rst explained carefully the Sunday’s biblical lectures. In the second part of his sermon, he informed the listeners about massacres, state interferences or attacks of the private forces of the oligarchy. He named concrete facts of time and place and of fi gures that seemed to be involved. He condemned the cruel deeds in contrast to the rest of the media that hushed them up or declared them as necessary measures against communist revolutionaries. During the week between Sundays, Romero and his staff had analysed the confl icts in their country from the point of view of the poor. On this basis, people developed a large degree of political conscience. They were strengthened in their efforts to survive. Yet several times right wing terrorist groups demolished the rooms of the editorial offi ce, the printing and the radiostation. As the murder of Rutilio Grande was neither solved by the state nor anybody punished, Oscar Romero refused to take part in offi cial state events and social events. He reasoned that justice had to be restored fi rst. As long as the solving of the murder was delayed, Romero did not see any reason to change his mind and attitude, until eventually he himself was murdered. It was impossible for him to maintain his attitude of protest and at the same time cooperate with the rulers of the country on a diplomatic level. His upright stance displeased the oligarchy and the papal nuncio, but was approved by the people (Brock- man 2005, 68ff.; Maier 2001, 59ff.). Though he kept a distance from the government the archbishop remained the pastoral counsellor of many politicians, of high-ranking offi cers and of prominent personalities from industry and administration, as mentioned in “A Shepherd’s Diary”. He gave good advice when asked for, even under the circumstances of escalating home affairs in El Salvador (Romero 1986, 426–27).8 As his theological counsellor Jon Sobrino SJ has pointed out, Oscar Romero had developed a proper “pastoral of coaching” Christians in social organisations and political parties (Sobrino 1990, 73ff.). He also remained the pastoral counsellor of members of the ruling class who turned to him in times of existential need. He assisted them when they themselves suffered from the

8 “. . . Friday, December 28th: . . . many members of the government and the army are coming to consult me. It is an indication of the Church’s prestige, and I try to help in all sincerity without abandoning my pastoral role.” the defender of the poor 243 brutality of the civil war, because some driving forces of the people’s movements had kidnapped or murdered their relatives (Romero 1986, 448, 516). He also helped those who had fallen between the fronts, as happened to some members of the Christian Democratic Party (Romero 1986, 486).

Oscar Romero—the Conscience of the Nation

Archbishop Romero sought to reach the people’s conscience. In his eyes, necessary political changes and changes of one‘s personal attitude belonged together. A renewal of the society had to go hand in hand with a change of the individual’s heart. Therefore, he demanded over and over again respect of Christian values for the benefi t of the public of El Salvador, and so he became the public conscience of the nation. He claimed urgent reforms, especially a fair distribution of the national income, fair courts of law for the ordinary people and peaceful solutions to confl icts. To progressive politicians, he continued being a voice of challenge and of hope. In spite of his harsh critique, he did not totally condemn the active rulers of the state. He rather confronted them not only with facts and analyses but also with the commandments of God and the biblical orders of peace and justice. He appealed to their Christian conscience and to their common sense, because he believed that God would change their hearts. On the other hand, he felt obliged to search among the rulers for signs of a fair and peaceful solution of the civil war-like confl icts. Wherever he recognized any of them, he qualifi ed them in his speeches and comments as positive and helpful. In Romero’s way of acting, Jon Sobrino realises a concept of a “pastoral of repentance” for those Christians who belonged to the economically and politically powerful sections of El Salvador because of the structures of policy (Sobrino 1990, 73ff.).

Oscar Romero—the Support of the Democratic People’s Movements

In the course of the confrontations, the campesinos were denied the right to gather and organise themselves, the unions and the Christian base communities were denounced as communist and subversive groups. With that their members were exposed to persecution in the interests 244 paul gerhard schoenborn of national security. In correspondence to the guidelines of Medellin, Oscar Romero defended the people’s right of organising as a democratic basic right, which, according to his own words, was a means by which the poor could fi ght for their survival against the economic exploitation by the rich: We . . . defend the right to make just demands and denounce the dangerous and evil-minded oversimplifi cation that seeks to misrepresent them and condemn them as terrorism or unlawful subversion. No one dare take away, least of all from the poor, the right to organize, because the protection of the weak is the principal purpose of laws and of social organizations (Romero 1985, 93 (Third Pastoral Letter)). Romero approved the people’s movements coming into existence, their military wings included, for he acknowledged the people’s right of self- defence. He often met with their leaders and advised them in questions of their faith and policy. He showed a profound understanding of the people’s protests, even of the many occupations of San Salvador Cathedral and other churchbuildings making services diffi cult. On the other hand it happened at several concrete occasions that he sharply criticised fanatic, militant oppositional groups and warned them of “idolising violence” as he called it. He bothered about some of their members who repeatedly tried to force him and the Catholic Church into a total identifi cation with them. He opposed them in an absolutely convincing manner, but at the same time tried to keep up the existing base of confi dence. He understood himself as a priest and a shepherd of the revolutionary groups as well. In the period of his episcopal offi ce the church of El Salvador achieved a new, high value among the ordinary people.

Martyrs in Romero’s Life

In the end, Oscar Romero’s church was persecuted as hard as the people. The slogan “Be a patriot, kill a priest!” was not merely written on walls and fl yers, but became cruel reality. Beside Rutilio Grande fi ve other priests were murdered during Romero’s period of offi ce: Alfonso Navarro (May 11th, 1977), Ernesto Barrera (November 28th, 1978), Octavio Ortiz Luna ( January 20th, 1979), Rafael Palacios ( June 20th, 1979) and Alirio Napoleon Macías (August 20th, 1979) (Meier 1981, 44–50). What Romero said about them in 1979 was also true about himself after his murder only few months later: the defender of the poor 245

To me they are real martyrs. . . . The fact that they did not ﬂ ee like cowards, but that they held on in this situation of sorrow, pain and murder, has got the importance of a blood testimony. We must keep their memory, especially as they are belittled and said to be persecuted because the church had interfered in politics and become communist and subversive. We of course know what these words mean: they were applied to Jesus Christ, too, to take him to the scaffold (Meier 1981, 50). The year after Romero’s murder, nine other priests and nuns were assassinated. The repression of the church siding with the poor increased enormously. During the peace negotiations, six Jesuit fathers, the housekeeper of their community and her daughter were murdered by a unit of armed forces in San Salvador on November 16th, 1989.9 In total, up to ten thousand Christian laypersons, whose names we do not know, died as a result of violence, martyrs of Jesus Christ, who committed their lives to the justice and human dignity of the poor—like Him (Instituto Histórico Centroamericano 1984).

The Archbishop’s Pastoral Letters

In four pastoral letters, Oscar Romero commented the situation in El Salvador. These have been important guidelines for a “political church service” up to now, and they are also documents of the archbishop’s skill of keeping his ofﬁ ce independent. He carefully avoided becoming an instrument of the political groups in El Salvador. All his pastoral letters are results of intensive discussions with theologians and laypersons and it took a long time before they were published. Liberation theologians from the Jesuit University constantly gave advice, among them Jon Sobrino and Ignacio Ellacuría, two of his special counsellors.

9 “After the civil war in 1993, the Truth Committee began working in El Salvador as a reconciliation mechanism and opened its ofﬁ ces to ﬁ le reports on Human Rights violations. From the conclusions drawn, the prophetic stand of Oscar Romero and the reason of his murder become clear. Out of the 22,000 reports of serious Human Rights violations . . . 85% were ascribed to ‘State agents, paramilitary groups working for them and death squads’. Only 5% were ascribed to the guerilla.—Report “De la locura a la esperanza”, presented by the Truth Committee in 1993 and published by ECA, March 1993, p. 1983” (Tojeira 2005, 4). 246 paul gerhard schoenborn

“The Church of the Paschal Mystery”

Shortly after his induction as archbishop, at Easter 1977, he published the fi rst of his pastoral letters. It deals with the future commitment of his diocese. The letter shows how closely Romero was related to the encyclical “Evangelii Nuntiandi” of Pope Paul VI from December 8th, 1975, and the pastoral guidelines of Medellin 1968. The church, he wrote, refuses to preach earthly liberation concepts instead of the Kingdom of God; but the love of the suffering and the needy, that is preached in the gospel, suggests a necessary connection of the message of the gospel and the liberation on earth; faith cannot be separated from concrete life; everybody must confess to the guidelines of the Sermon on the Mount; the church must be ready to resign all of its privileges that might spoil the purity of its testimony, and aim for dialogue with all those who are working in the socio-political fi eld and liable to bring about changes (Romero 1985, 52ff.). The further three pastoral letters are dated August 6th, the Feast of the Transfi guration, 1977, 1978 and 1979. August 6th is also the National Day of El Salvador, a country that bears the name of the divine redemptor. Romero saw a symbolic value in that and used it for the message that the policy of his country should submit to the standards of Christ.

“The Church, the Body of Christ in History”

The second pastoral letter deals with the present reality of the church. It is the church’s duty in history to lend its voice to Christ so that he may speak, its feet so that he may walk today’s world, its hands to build the kingdom, and to offer all its members ‘to make up all that has still to be undergone by Christ’ (Col 1:24) (Romero 1985, 70). The present persecution of the church by the rulers in El Salvador is the consequence of the church’s commitment to its faith in Jesus Christ: The church is persecuted because it wills to be in truth the church of Christ. The church is respected, praised, even granted privileges, so long as it preaches eternal salvation and does not involve itself in the real problems of our world. But if the church is faithful to its mission of denouncing the sin that brings misery to many, and if it proclaims its hope the defender of the poor 247

for a more just, humane world, then it is persecuted and calumniated, it is branded as subversive and communist (Romero 1985, 80).

“The Church and Popular Political Organisations”

The third pastoral letter was published together with Arturo Rivera, the bishop of Santiago de Maria. The two bishops defend the right of the poor to gather and organise in oppositional groups: It is a fact . . . that economically powerful minorities can organize in defense of their interests and very often to the detriment of the great majority of the people. . . . By contrast, other groups among the mass of the people meet only difﬁ culties and repression when they try, in an organized way, to defend the interests of the majority (Romero 1985, 91). Both of the bishops are convinced that even in those organisations which keep distance from the church and from Christendom, but commit themselves to the liberation of the poor, Christ’s Holy Ghost is at work. Another focus of this pastoral letter refers to the problems of violence. Romero and Rivera condemn any kind of “institutionalised violence”. They observe it in the economic circumstances of exploitation in El Salvador and also in the “repressive violence” of the state in favour of the oligarchy. Yet, they no less condemn the “seditious or terrorist violence”. On the other hand, they perceive a bottom-up “spontaneous violence” as self-defense against top-down terror. In this respect, they recall the three criteria which Pope Paul VI had pointed out in his encyclical “Populorum Progressio” (May 26th, 1967): 1. that the defense does not exceed the degree of unjust aggression, 2. that the recourse to proportionate violence takes place only after all peaceful means have been exhausted, 3. that a violent defense should not bring about greater evil than that of the aggression, namely a greater violence, a greater injustice (Romero 1985, 108). These criteria serve as Christian guidelines in ﬁ ghts for liberation. In accordance to that, Romero and Rivera strictly reject the actions of some revolutionary groups that favour violence as their only means to cause a change of circumstances in the state of El Salvador. They urgently warn against idolising violence: 248 paul gerhard schoenborn

The cult of violence, which becomes almost a mystique or religion for some individuals and groups, is doing immeasurable harm to our people. They preach violence as the only way to achieve justice and they pro- pound and practice it as a method to bring justice to our country. This pathological mentality makes it impossible to check the spiral of violence and it contributes to the extreme polarization of different groups within our society (Romero 1985, 110). The Christians’ way is mapped out by Jesus Christ, the bishops say; it is called non-violence and ﬁ ght for peace on the basis of justice. Peace in El Salvador is impossible without permanent efforts of establishing fair conditions of living for all.

“The Political Dimension of the Faith from the Standpoint of the Option for the Poor”

In his fourth pastoral letter from August 6th, 1979, Romero aimed at implementing the guidelines of the third Latin American Bishops’ Conference of Puebla (1979) in his diocese.10 The results worked out by the bishops about the social injustice and the suppression of the people in the whole of Latin America are valid for El Salvador, too: They look askance at the organizing efforts of laborers, peasants, and the common people; and they adopt repressive measures to prevent such organizing. But this type of control over, or limitation on, activity is not applied to employer organizations, which can exercise their full power to protect their interests.11 With reference to Puebla, Romero sharply protested against the institutionalised violence in its direct and indirect forms against the people: This ‘structural violence’ . . . takes concrete form in injust distribution of wealth and of property—especially insofar as it includes landowner- ship—and, more generally, in that amalgam of economic and political structures by which the few grow increasingly rich and powerful, while the remainder grow increasingly poor and weak.12 Romero no longer condemned the counter violence of the revolutionary left, but he still reminded them to avoid excessive use. For he was

10 Oscar Romero had been on the staff of the commission on evangelization and human development. See: Brockman (Brockman 2005, 159–64). 11 Puebla, Final Document, § 44. 12 Ibid., § 1259. the defender of the poor 249 convinced that the terrorist violence of the extreme right would hasten unjust circumstances: The church . . . condemns the violence by politico-military groups or individuals when they intentionally victimize innocent persons, or when the damage they do is disproportionate, in short or medium terms to the positive effect they wish to achieve. Citing the encyclical “Populorum Progressio” and its reception in Medellin 1968, he emphasises that: . . . insurrection is legitimate only ‘in the very exceptional circumstances of an evident, prolonged tyranny that seriously works against fundamental human rights and seriously damages the common good of the country, whether it proceeds from one person or from clearly injust structures’ (Romero 1985, 144). The archbishop’s conclusion was: Church work for the liberation of the poor could only exist in calling the real circumstances by their concrete names and to call for repentance and change. He therefore marked the areas where corruption and moral decline proceeded, the base of which he saw in what he interpreted as idolatry: the ideology of private property, the selﬁ sh striving for wealth, the conﬁ dence in repressive violence and the doctrine of national security. Exposing the Idols of Death became Romero’s guiding theological subject up to the end of his life.

Oscar Romero—the Helper and Consoler

“It is my lot to gather up the trampled, the dead, and all that the persecution of the church leaves behind” (Brockman 2005, 62), Oscar Romero said on June 19th, 1977. That was in Aguilares in the beginning of his work as archbishop, when he ordained the new priest in place of the murdered Rutilio Grande and consecrated the church after it had been demolished in the massacre. He often repeated his message, that his episcopal duty consisted of rescuing the victims of terror. Wherever a massacre came to be known, he was present with consolation and help. If you collected all the clues to this part of his work, you would ﬁ nd an enormous pastoral quota, which Romero and his staff demanded of themselves. The ordinary people gratefully loved and honored him for that. 250 paul gerhard schoenborn

The archbishop celebrated an uncountable number of memorial masses. He visited the mourning relatives or welcomed them in his offi ce and tried to encourage them. When fellow priests had been murdered, he brought their families together so that they could share the memories of the martyrs and fi nd consolation in that. He celebrated memorial masses with the communities of the murdered priests. When priests had been imprisoned, he immediately visited them and protested to the authorities. He intervened when people were in danger of being deported. He went to the campesinos, who in their distress had occupied some public buildings including the Cathedral. He buried their dead and held services with them. He negotiated with the security service and prevented police operations. At that time, church centres became especially relevant as sanctuar- ies. For example, on January 22nd, 1980, a major demonstration in memory of the massacres of 1932 was shot at, broken up, and the demonstrators were persecuted by the armed forces. Romero noted in his diary of duty: Tuesday, January 22nd . . . In the cathedral alone there were eleven bodies by the evening. . . . We have tried to cooperate in this tragedy, helping to evacuate the people who were in the cathedral—some three hundred refugees—who were taken to the chancery, where they were provided with food and a place to sleep. The sisters and other Catholic institutions have been very generous in collaborating in this aid given by the Church. A large part of the crowd took refuge in the university, where they estimate that there are some forty thousand people. The night has been a tragic one. There have been bombs in different parts of the city. One of them was placed, doubtless by those of the extreme right, in the antenna of our Catholic radio station YSAX, which has suffered some damage. . . . Wednesday, January 23rd . . . In the afternoon there was a mass of people in the park next to the cathedral and in the cathedral, where along with several other priests I celebrated Mass for those who had died. I directed my message to the crowd, who surrounded the coffi ns containing the dead (Romero 1986, 455–56). It is impossible to imagine the physical exertion and tension the archbishop had to bear. Besides individual pastoral help, Oscar Romero installed an offi ce for legal aid, whose task was to investigate violations of human rights in any single case, especially in cases of abduction and murder. This was the only bureau that relatives of victims could turn to in order to get investigations and judicial clarifi cation started. With the docu- mentations of these atrocities, Romero himself or his staff appealed the defender of the poor 251 to the government to do justice to the people. They also addressed the Vatican and ecumenical offi ces. Romero quoted some of these papers in his Sunday homilies. So, he combined pastoral care with a deacon’s social service and a prophet’s protest.

International Attention

Not only in his own country but also abroad, Archbishop Romero was known as the defender of human rights. The knowledge of the people’s suffering in El Salvador was continuously growing in the whole world. At the same time many people became aware of the danger Romero was facing. International attention could provide him with a shelter. Signs of solidarity from foreign countries strengthened the democratic popular groups. Ecumenical delegations came to El Salvador, as well as members of parliaments, engaged individuals and journalists. Romero’s voice was now heard in the USA and in Europe. In 1978, the Jesuit University in Georgetown, Washington DC-USA, awarded him an honorary doctorate. In 1978, 118 members of the British Lower House nominated him for the Nobel Prize of Peace, which, however, was obtained by Mother Theresa. In the beginning of 1980 the Ecu- menical Action of Sweden awarded him its Peace Award. Romero’s address on the occasion of the conferral of a doctorate honoris causa by the University of Louvain, Belgium, on February 2nd, 1980,—“The Political Dimension of the Faith from the Perspec- tive of the Option for the Poor” (Romero 1985, 177–87)—meanwhile belongs to the basic texts of the Latin American liberation theology. Here, the archbishop deliberates the way of the Salvadoran church and describes what it nowadays means to follow Jesus: turn back to Him, come closer to the world of the poor, become poor oneself, defend the poor, unmask sin, ﬁ ght against the idols of death, be aware of the political dimension of faith, be blessed with a deeper faith in God and his son Jesus Christ: . . . We see, with great clarity, that here neutrality is impossible. Either we serve the life of Salvadorans, or we are accomplices in their death. And here what is most fundamental about the faith is given expression in history: either we believe in a God of life, or we serve the idols of death. In the name of Jesus we want, and we work for, life in its fullness, a life that is not reduced to the frantic search for basic material needs, nor one reduced to the sphere of the socio-political. We know perfectly well that the superabundant fullness of life is to be achieved only in the kingdom 252 paul gerhard schoenborn

of the Father. In human history this fullness is achieved through a worthy service of that kingdom, and total surrender to the Father. But we see with equal clarity that in the name of Jesus it would be sheer illusion, it would be an irony, and, at bottom, it would be the most profound blas- phemy, to forget and to ignore the basic levels of life, the life that begins with bread, a roof, a job. With the Apostle John we believe that Jesus is “the Word who is life” (1 John 1:1), and that God reveals himself wherever this life is to be found. Where the poor begin to really live, where the poor begin to free themselves, where persons are able to sit around a common table to share with one another—the God of life is there. When the church inserts itself into the socio-political world it does so in order to work with it so that from such cooperation life may be given to the poor. . . . This faith in the God of life is the explanation for what lies deepest in the Christian mystery. To give life to the poor one has to give of one’s own Iife, even to give one’s life itself. The greatest sign of faith in a God of life is the witness of those who are ready to give up their own life. “A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends” ( John 15:13). And we see this daily in our country. Many Salvadorans, many Christians, are ready to give their lives so that the poor may have life. They are following Jesus and showing their faith in him. Living within the real world just as Jesus did, like him accused and threatened, like him laying down their lives, they are giving witness to the Word of life. Our story, then, is a very old one. It is Jesus’ story that we, in all modesty, are trying to follow” (Romero 1985, 185). Two weeks later the archbishop wrote an open address to the President of the United States, Jimmy Carter, in which he urged him to cancel at once the military aid of USA to the security forces of El Salvador. He argued that it would not serve to grant the observance of the human rights, which had been important to Carter so far, but that it would cause more and more bloodshed in El Salvador: San Salvador February 17th, 1980 His Excellency The President of the United States Mr. Jimmy Carter Dear Mr. President: In the last few days, news has appeared in the national press that worries me greatly. According to the reports, your government is studying the possibility of economic and military support and assistance to the present government junta. Because you are a Christian and because you have shown that you want to defend human rights, I venture to set forth for you my pastoral point of view in regard to this news and to make a speciﬁ c request of you. the defender of the poor 253

I am very concerned by the news that the government of the United States is planning to further El Salvador’s arms race by sending military equipment and advisers to “train three Salvadoran battalions in logistics, communications, and intelligence.” If this information from the newspapers is correct, instead of favoring greater justice and peace in El Salvador, your government’s contribution will undoubtedly sharpen the injustice and the repression infl icted on the organized people, whose struggle has often been for respect for their most basic human rights. The present government junta and, especially, the armed forces and security forces have unfortunately not demonstrated their capacity to resolve in practice the nation’s serious political and structural problems. For the most part, they have resorted to repressive violence, producing a total of deaths and injuries much greater than under the previous military regime, whose systematic violation of human rights was reported by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights. The brutal form in which the security forces recently evicted and murdered the occupiers of the headquarters of the Christian Democratic Party even though the junta and the party apparently did not authorize the operation is an indication that the junta and the Christian Democrats do not govern the country, but that political power is in the hands of unscrupulous military offi cers who know only how to repress the people and favor the interests of the Salvadoran oligarchy. If it is true that last November “a group of six Americans was in El Salvador . . . providing $200,000 in gas masks and fl ak jackets and teaching how to use them against demonstrators,” you ought to be informed that it is evident that since then the security forces, with increased personal protection and effi ciency, have even more violently repressed the people, using deadly weapons. For this reason, given that as a Salvadoran and Archbishop of the archdiocese of San Salvador, I have an obligation to see that faith and justice reign in my country, I ask you, if you truly want to defend human rights, to forbid that military aid be given to the Salvadoran government and to guarantee that your government will not intervene directly or indirectly, with military, economic, diplomatic, or other pressures, in determining the destiny of the Salvadoran people. In these moments, we are living through a grave economic and political crisis in our country, but it is certain that increasingly the people are awakening and organizing and have begun to prepare themselves to manage and be responsible for the future of El Salvador, as the only ones capable of surmounting the crisis. It would be unjust and deplorable for foreign powers to intervene and frus- trate the Salvadoran people, to repress them and keep them from deciding autonomously the economic and political course that our nation should follow. It would be to violate a right that the Latin American bishops, meeting at Puebla, recognized publicly when we spoke of “the legitimate selfdetermination of our peoples, which allows them to organize according 254 paul gerhard schoenborn

to their own spirit and the course of their history and to cooperate in a new international order” (Puebla, 505). I hope that your religious sentiments and your feelings for the defense of human rights will move you to accept my petition, thus avoiding greater bloodshed in this suffering country. Sincerely, Oscar A. Romero Archbishop (Romero 1985, 188–90). Archbishop Romero read his letter to Jimmy Carter in his homily on February 17th, 1980, for the people’s approval, which they indicated by their applause. In Washington as in the Vatican, however, the letter was recognised with utmost disapproval.

Hostility of the Brother Bishops

During the entire period of offi ce as Archbishop of San Salvador, Oscar Romero had to cope with a rift between four of fi ve Salvadoran bishops and the papal nuncio on the one side and Bishop Arturo Rivera and himself on the other. The reasons were that Romero had become a liberation theologian on the basis of Medellín 1968 and Puebla 1979, that he publically criticised the oligarchy and the government, that he was loved by the poor because he defended them, and that he demanded radical reforms of the state and the society. It was the struggle for the Salvadoran church’s way. At the meetings of the bishops’ conference, he was defamed both as a person and because of his methods of leadership. He was accused of sympathising with Marxist priests, of ignoring the Marxist inclination of the base communities, of giving a help to subversive elements (Romero 1986, 212, 286, 390–91, 403). Behind his back, they put in a request to Rome. Several times he had to go to Rome in order to justify himself. The Vatican considered his dismissal or at least the appointment of a papal administrator. In 1978, the Vatican sent Bishop Antonio Quarracino from Argentina as a papal visitator, in 1979 Cardinal Aloisío Lorscheider from Brazil. Lorscheider encouraged him to go forth on the way that his archdiocese had taken under his leadership, and sided with him. Romero’s “A Shepherd’s Diary” reveals how much he suffered from his brother bishops’ attitude; yet it also shows that although fi ghting hard, he always sought for reconciliation and never gave up hope for a better relationship with his hostile brothers. the defender of the poor 255

Harrassments by the Army

Several passages in “A Shepherd’s Diary” (Romero 1986, 290, 313–14, 322).13 show that, in his last year, Romero was exposed to a lot of harrassments by the police and the armed forces: they stopped his car, searched his fi les and papers, hindered his way to a service and forced him to leave the car while they opened everything. This was no doubt a further step to combat him. Before, they had confi ned their attacks “only” to the press or by diplomatic requests to the nuncio and the papal offi ce in Rome. The new harrassments did not mean anything else but the disregard of his episcopal duty. It was obvious that the security forces regarded him as a danger to national security and that he had to be eliminated. Now the same happened to him as it did to many displeasing priests and nuns, laypersons in the ecclesiastical base communities and to the masses, that were constantly intimidated by measures of surveillance. Romero defended himself by complaints against the government and by public protest via the diocesan radio. In his homily of August 19th, 1979, he openly told his listeners that offi cers had made a tape of his homily in Chalatenango the other day and that at the end of it he had asked the congregation: Do you think, I have said anything subversive? If I have, say so, because I want to correct it. Have you understood anything subversive in my words? All the people had said no and had applauded. So he had said: Those who have this ceremony under surveillance, notice how the people have understood it. Don’t go and tell any other way (Brockman 2005, 196).

Threats of Murder and Forebodings of Death

Death threats accompanied Romero’s way as archbishop from the moment he had committed to the life of the poor people. On January 4th, 1979, he received a conﬁ dential message from somebody who had been informed about plans to kill him (Brockman 2005, 196). In May 1979, he received an ofﬁ cial envelope from the Ministry of Defense

13 Conf. (Brockman 2005, 195)—Homily of July 20th, 1979. 256 paul gerhard schoenborn containing a death threat by the rightist terrorist group “White Warrior Union” (Brockman 2005, 197). In “A Shepherd’s Diary” he mentioned under June 1st, 1979, that he had received telephone calls threatening him with death and a card with a swastika from the White War- rior Union. They had ordered him to change his way of preaching, to condemn communism and to praise the members of the security forces who had been killed in the riots. If not they would eliminate him (Romero 1986, 245). On September 11th, 1979, the papal nuncio informed the archbishop about the President’s concern for his safety: . . . that he sees great danger and that he is offering me protection. I repeated to the nuncio that I was prepared to run the same risks as the people, that it would be very difﬁ cult for me to accept protection while the people continue to be unprotected (Romero 1986, 326). As Romero continued to call upon the oligarchy to change their minds and the more he exposed them as the main reason for the escalation of violence and injustice, acting contrary to the gospel, the closer came the threats and the more certain became the aspect of a violent death. On February 24th, 1980, he said in a sermon that was broadcasted by YSAX: . . . this week I received notice that I am on the list of those who are to be eliminated next week. But let it be known that no one can any longer kill the voice of justice (Brockman 2005, 233).

Romero’s “Gethsemane”

At the end of February 1980, the archbishop made his annual retreat together with six other priests in a retreat house in Planes de Renderos on the hills of San Salvador. His confessor, the Jesuit Segundo Azcue, noticed forebodings of martyrdom with him. Later he wrote: I dare to consider this last retreat of his as his prayer in the garden. . . . Arch- bishop Romero foresaw his very probable and imminent death. He felt terror at it as Jesus did in the garden. But he did not leave his post and his duty, ready to drink the chalice that the Father might give him to drink (Brockman 2005, 233).14

14 Account in Noticias de la Provincia Centroamericana April 1980. the defender of the poor 257

The climax of the retreat was a meditation on the Kingdom of God and the following of Christ. Romero wrote into his retreat copybook the old prayer of the offering out of the “Spiritual Exercises” of Igna- tius of Loyola: Eternal Lord of all things, I make my offering with thy favor and help, before thy infi nite goodness and before thy glorious mother and all the saints of the heavenly court: I wish and desire and it is my deliberate determination, if only it is for thy greater service and praise, to imitate thee in bearing every injury and insult and all poverty, both actual and spiritual, provided thy Most Holy Majesty chooses me and receives me in such a life and state (Brockman 1990). He added the following personal testimony: I express my consecration to the heart of Jesus, who was ever a source of inspiration and joy in my life. . . . I place under his loving providence all my life, and I accept with faith in him my death, however hard it be. . . . For me to be happy and confi dent, it is suffi cient to know with assurance that in him is my life and my death, that in spite of my sins I have placed my trust in him and I will not be confounded, and others will continue with greater wisdom and holiness the works of the Church and the nation (Brockman 2005, 235). Two weeks before his death he told José Calderón Salazar, the Gua- temala correspondent of the Mexican newspaper “Excelsior” on the phone: I have often been threatened with death. I must tell you, as a Christian, I do not believe in death without resurrection. If I am killed, I shall arise in the Salvadoran people. . . . As a shepherd, I am obliged by divine mandate to give my life for those I love—for all Salvadorans, even for those who may be going to kill me. . . . Martyrdom is a grace of God that I do not believe I deserve. But if God accepts the sacrifi ce of my life, let my blood be a seed of freedom and the sign that hope will soon be reality. . . . You may say, if they succeed in killing me, that I pardon and bless those who do it. Would, indeed, that they might be convinced that they will waste their time. A bishop will die, but God’s church, which is the people, will never perish (Brockman 2005, 248).

The Last Sunday Homily

The fi nal impetus to the murder of Archbishop Romero came from his Sunday homily on March 23rd, 1980, which was broadcasted by the diocesan radio YSAX. In this homily of almost two hours, he directly 258 paul gerhard schoenborn addressed the men of the army, citing the commandment “Thou shalt not kill!”: Brothers: you are part of our own people. You kill your own campesino brothers and sisters. And before an order to kill that a man may give, God’s law must prevail that says: Thou shalt not kill! No soldier is obliged to obey an order against the law of God. No one has to fulfi ll an immoral law. It is time to take back your consciences and to obey your consciences rather than the orders of sin. The church, defender of the rights of God, of the law of God, of human dignity, of the person, cannot remain silent before such abomination. Turning to the government, he continued: We want the government to understand seriously that reforms are worth nothing if they are stained with so much blood. In the name of God and in the name of this suffering people, whose laments rise to heaven each day more tumultuous, I beg you, I beseech you, I order you in the name of God: Stop the repression! (Brockman 2005, 241–42). Applause interrupted the appeal fi ve times, and prolonged applause, almost half a minute, followed at the end. The next day an assassin’s bullet struck him as he preached at mass. At his funeral, 250,000 people gathered on the Plaza between the Cathedral and the President’s Palace. Suddenly, a bomb exploded, and shooting from the palace followed. A panic broke out. The crowd began to fl ee. The mass was never concluded. The coffi n was moved inside the cathedral and hastily buried in the prepared tomb. Outside, forty people died.

“San Romero de America Latina”—The Holy Romero of Latin America

Up to the present day, crowds of people visit the grave of Oscar Romero every day. Among the people the archbishop is called “Holy Romero of Latin America”. Pope John Paul II also prayed at his grave on the occasions of his two pastoral visits to El Salvador. Rome, however, is still reluctant to beatifying and honoring him as a martyr of Jesus Christ. The process of canonisation started years ago. The reason for its delay does not lie with the Salvadoran bishops; they meanwhile appreciate their former archbishop as an example of a true and pious servant of the church. An offi cial beatifi cation would at the the defender of the poor 259 same time expose Romero’s uncompromising and, no doubt, political resistance as exemplary for all Christians. Admittedly, the process of beatifi cation traditionally takes a lot of time, we may take into consideration that, in Romero’s case, Rome would beatify the resistance against the socio-economic “Idols of Death” that are still going strong in El Salvador and worldwide (Maier 2001, 159ff.; Rechtsschutzbüro des Erzbistums von San Salvador 2005b, 57ff.). The people of El Salvador, however, already sanctifi ed Oscar Romero a long time ago: “Moseñor Romero was murdered by the rich, for he spoke the truth and defended the poor.”

References

Brockman, James R. 1990. “The Spiritual Journey of Oscar Romero.” Spirituality today 42 no. 4. http://www.spiritualitytoday.org/spir2day/904242brock.html (accessed June 24th, 2006). ——. 2005. Romero—A Life (1982/1989). New York, NY: Maryknoll Orbis Books. Collet, Giancarlo. 1969. “San Romero de America”, Orientierung 69. Duchrow, Ulrich and Gert Eisenbürger and Jochen Hippler. 1989. Totaler Krieg gegen die Armen—Geheime Strategiepapiere der amerikanischen Militärs. München: Christian Kaiser Verlag. Hernández, Maria Julia. 1996. “Straﬂ osigkeit, Gerechtigkeit und Versöhnung” Presente, Bulletin der Christlichen Initiative Romero Münster 1 (1996): 13. Instituto Histórico Centroamericano, pub. 1984. Sie leben im Herzen des Volkes—Latein- amerikanisches Martyriologium. Düsseldorf: Patmos Verlag. Maier, Martin. 2001. Oscar Romero—Meister der Spiritualität. Freiburg: Herder. Martín-Baró, Ignatio. Oscar Arnulfo Romero—Blutzeuge für das Volk: 24. Meier, Johannes. 1981. Selig, die hungern nach Gerechtigkeit—Aus dem Leben der Kirche in Mittelamerika. Würzburg: Echter. Rechtsschutzbüro des Erzbistums von San Salvador. 2005a. “Pressekommuniqué zum Prozess über den Mord an Erzbischof Romero vor einem Gericht der Vereinigten Staaten von Nordamerika”. Berichte, Dokumente, Kommentare 96 der Missionszentrale der Franziskaner Bonn. Rechtsschutzbüro des Erzbistums von San Salvador. 2005b. “Selig- und Heiligspre- chungsprozess in der Diözese San Salvador”. Berichte, Dokumente, Kommentare 96 der Missionszentrale der Franziskaner Bonn. Romero, Oscar. 1985. Voice of the Voiceless—The Four Pastoral Letters and Other Statements, translated by Michael J. Walsh. New York, NY: Maryknoll, Orbis Books. ——. 1986. A Shepherd’s Diary, translated by Irene B. Hodgson. Cincinneti, Ohio: St. Anthony Messenger Press/Montreal, Quebec: Novalis. Sobrino, Jon. 1990. Archbishop Romero—Memories and Reﬂ ections. New York, NY: Mary- knoll, Orbis Books. Terre des Hommes, pub. 1989. Kinder und Krieg in Lateinamerika. Göttingen: Lamuv TB 60. Tojeira, José M. 2005. “Mons. Romero, a martyr of today and for today”, Caritas Europa documents. http://www.caritas-europa.org/module/FileLib/Texto_Tojeira_EN.pdf (accessed June 24th, 2006). 260 paul gerhard schoenborn

List of abbreviations

ARENA Alianza Republicana Nacionalista, nationalistic right wing political party in El Salvador. CELAM Latin American Bishops’ Council in Medellin 1968 FECCAS Christian Federation of Salvadoran Campesinos ORDEN Organización Democrática Nacionalista—Democratic Nationalist Organi- zation UTC Union of Rural Workers YSAX Catholic radio station in San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador.

Literature from and about Oscar A. Romero

a. Works of Oscar A. Romero Romero, Oscar. Voice of the Voiceless—The Four Pastoral Letters and Other State- ments, translated by Michael J. Walsh. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 1985. Romero, Oscar. A Shepherd’s Diary, translated by Irene B. Hodgson. Cincinneti, Ohio: St. Anthony Messenger Press/Montreal, Quebec: Novalis, 1986. Romero, Oscar. The Violence of Love, edited and translated by James R. Brockman. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 2004. In “La Biblioteca de las culturas hispánicas” http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/Ficha- Autor.html?Ref=3643 you ﬁ nd “Títulos digitalizados de Óscar Arnulfo Romero”, before all ”Monseñor Óscar A. Romero. Su pensamiento. Volumen I–VIII.” and important audio documents. In “Ofﬁ cia de Canonización de Monseñor Romero” http://www.romeroes.com/ menu_principal.html there are more texts of Oscar Romero, before all his four Pastoral Letters and some more impressive audio documents.

b. Biographies Erdozain, Placido. Archbishop Romero. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 1981. Brockman, James R. Romero—A Life (1982/1989). Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 2005. López Vigil, Maria. Oscar Romero: Memories in Mosaic, translated. by Kathy Ogle. Washington, D.C.: EPICA, 2000. The Spanish Text of López Vigil, Oscar Romero, in “Página de Monseñor Romero”: http://www.servicioskoinonia.org/romero/ The remarkable ﬁ lm “Romero” about the life and murder of Oscar Romero, counseled by James R. Brockman, SJ, produced in 1989.

c. Theological refl ections on the witness of Archbishop Romero Sobrino, Jon. Archbishop Romero—Memories and Refl ections. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 1990. Dennis, Marie and Golden, Renny, and Wright, Scott. Oscar Romero—Refl ections on His Life and Writings. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 2000. Sobrino, Jon. Witnesses to the Kingdom: The Martyrs of El Salvador and the Cruci- fi ed Peoples. Maryknoll NY: Orbis Books, 2003. CHAPTER TEN

DESMOND TUTU: CHURCH RESISTANCE TO APARTHEID AND INJUSTICE IN AFRICA

Peter Lodberg1

Archbishop Desmond Tutu (1931) was born in Klerksdorp, Transvaal, South Africa. He was educated at Johannesburg Bantu High School. After leaving school, he trained as a teacher at Pretoria Bantu Normal College and, in 1954, he graduated from the University of South Africa. Tutu was a high school teacher for three years before he began to study theology. He was ordained as a priest in the Anglican Church in 1960. From 1962–1966, he studied in London, England, for a Master of Theology. He taught theology in South Africa and returned to England to serve as the assistant director of a theological institute in London and work in the scholarship programme of the World Council of Churches. In 1975, Tutu was appointed Dean of St. Mary’s Cathedral in Johannesburg. From 1976–78, he was Bishop of Lesotho and, in 1978, became General Secretary of the South African Council of Churches. In 1986, Desmond Tutu was elected Archbishop of Cape Town, South Africa. He retired as Archbishop in 1996. He chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission 1994–1998. Tutu is honorary doctor of a number of leading universities in USA, Britain, and Germany. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984.

Introduction

Church people—lay and ordained—played an important role in the struggle against apartheid in South Africa. Through the churches’ ecumenical network, church leaders like Beyers Naudé, Desmond Tutu, Allan Boesak, and Frank Chikane were able to mobilize international support from churches around the world for freedom, justice, and democracy for all in South African. Through the South African Council of Churches, contacts were established to the World Council of Churches and to national church councils and relief organizations such as Danchurchaid, Norwegian Church Aid, Christian Aid, and

1 The author is former General Secretary of Danchurchaid and has known Des- mond Tutu since 1983. 262 peter lodberg

Church of Sweden Aid. Especially, the Program to Combat Racism of the World Council of Churches was active on the international political scene and challenged the churches to take a more active stand in the struggle against apartheid. Kaj Munk was a source of inspiration for the Reformed minister Allan Boesak, who played an important role in the struggle as a public speaker and an internationally known theologian with a clear anti- apartheid message. He had come across some of Kaj Munk’s writings during a visit to Holland. Outside a bookshop, he discovered by acci- dent some book titles that caught his attention, and he began reading Kaj Munk’s books. In March 1984, Allan Boesak organized a seminar in Cape Town on Kaj Munk and gave one of the main presentations entitled A holy rage for justice—Kaj Munk and South Africa. The paper was originally written for a Danish book on Allan Boesak edited by Flem- ming Behrendt called Livet værd. Reverend Paul Honoré participated in the Kaj Munk seminar in Cape Town together with Flemming Behrendt (Behrendt 1984; Honoré 1995). To my knowledge, Allan Boesak is the only one of the leading church people in South Africa ﬁ ghting apartheid, who knew the name of Kaj Munk and was inspired by his words and actions. Beyers Naudé was inspired by the Confessional Church in Germany during World War II and the theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, while Archbishop Desmond Tutu represents—as we will see—an interesting mixture of African Ubuntu-anthropology inspired by the Black Consciousness Movement, High Anglicanism, and social activism in the tradition of the former Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, William Temple.

Desmond Tutu—Who is he?

Desmond Mpilo Tutu was born October 7, 1931 in the city of Klerks- dorp in South Africa (Du Boulay 1988; Kristiansen and Lislerud 1984; Tutu 1984a). His father was a teacher at the local school, and his mother worked at home as a housewife. When Tutu was 12 years old, the family moved to Johannesburg, where he entered secondary school. From 1951–1953, Tutu was educated as a teacher at Pretoria Bantu Normal College, and after graduation he worked as a teacher from 1953–1958 at Munsieville High School, Krugersdorp. He resigned from his teaching position after having protested to the Prime Minister about the Bantu Education Act that would make it almost impossible for young, black church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 263 students to get a proper education. Tutu began to study theology at the Anglican St. Peters Theological College, Rosettenville, and was ordained in 1960 as a deacon in the Anglican Church in Johannesburg. In 1961, Tutu was ordained as a minister in the same church and travelled to London in 1962 for further theological studies at King’s College. During his time in London, he served as a minister at St. Alban’s Church. In 1967, Tutu and his wife Leah Nomalizo Tutu returned to South Africa, where Desmond Tutu became the new student pastor and teacher in theology at Federal Theological Seminary in the city of Alice. During his time in Alice, he wrote a letter to Prime Minister John Vorster and warned him that South Africa might explode any time because of the racial policy of apartheid. Tutu never received a response to his letter. In 1972, the Tutus returned to England, and Desmond Tutu became Vice Director of the Theological Scholar Programme of the World Council of Churches based in London. In 1975, Tutu was called back to Johannesburg, South Africa, as the fi rst black Dean of St. Mary’s Cathedral. From 1976–1978, Tutu served as Anglican bishop in Lesotho, before he was elected general secretary of the South African Council of Churches in 1978. He held the position until 1985, when he was called to become bishop of Johannesburg. On September 7, 1986, Desmond Tutu became the fi rst black Anglican Archbishop in South Africa. In 1995—after having resigned as archbishop—Desmond Tutu was called by President Nelson Mandela to chair the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. From 2004, Tutu has served as Professor in the chair called Post-Confl ict Societies at his old college in London, King’s College. In 1984, Desmond Tutu was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, Norway, for his non-violent resistance to the South African system of apartheid.

Theology: God has humor

The day after Tutu received the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, he gave the obligatory speech. He described how it was to live as a black person in absolute poverty in an afﬂ uent South African society, and he mentioned the role of the police and the death squads, who made life unbearable for many ordinary black South Africans. Suddenly, Tutu stops in the middle of his presentation and starts telling a joke about a Zambian and a South African. The Zambian was boasting about the Ministry of the Navy in Zambia. 264 peter lodberg

But you have no fl eet, no access to the Oceans”, the South African argued, “How can you have a Minister of the Navy?” “Well”, the Zam- bian answered: “In South Africa, you have a Minister of Justice (Tutu 1984b). Within a second, Tutu illustrated his point about the failing justice in South Africa in a way that tells more than many books fi lled with sta- tistics and analysis. At the same time, he released energy in a situation, where people were getting tired of listening to the list of human sufferings. By the means of humor and telling a joke he managed to show the human absurdity in apartheid as a political system. At the same time, Tutu made himself immune towards the South African authorities. His critics may criticize him for being too superfi cial but it is impossible to kill or put into prison a black minister, who tells jokes. When Tutu, during a visit to Denmark in 1979, challenged the Danish government to stop buying coal from South Africa, the South African government took his passport, and restricted his travel until 1983, where he was allowed to attend the VI. Assembly of the World Council of Churches in Vancouver, Canada. Shortly after his arrival in Vancouver, a press conference was held. When one of the journalists asked: “How can we help you and your people in South Africa?” Desmond Tutu paused for a second and answered with a smile in his eyes: “Did you try prayer?”2 The reaction was the same in the press hall as in Oslo. The audience was smiling and fi lled with sympathy for the little black man and his cause. It is part of Tutu’s personality to express joy and sadness in a very personal way. He himself is the message, and through a countless number of sermons, interviews, speeches, and articles—the spoken and written word—he became a very important and invulnerable opponent to the South African apartheid regime, because he also tells jokes in a self-ironic way. During his speech at University of Copenhagen in September 2004,3 he illustrated his and many South Africans’ sense of helplessness and despair during the apartheid years by telling about a young person, who was hanging in a tree over a deep cleft. While hanging by his arms, the unlucky man looks to heaven and shouts: “Gooood, are you there?” No answer. He shouts again: “Goood, are you there?” Still no answer. He tries for

2 My observation during the World Council of Churches (WCC) Assembly in Vancouver. 3 My observation during Tutu’s speech at Copenhagen University. church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 265 the third time. At last God speaks from his heaven: “Yes, my son. I am here.” “What shall I do, can you help me?” the young man asks. “Yes”, God says: “Jump”. After a short second, the young man asks: “Is there someone else up there?” However, humor is not only a personal and rhetorical element in Tutu’s countless speeches against apartheid. It has also a theological meaning. God has humor, because he has made the most ridiculous and hopeless people, the South Africans, into a beacon of hope. Accord- ing to Tutu, God has chosen to repeat in South Africa what he did in Corinth, when he called the Corinthians to become the Church: Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctiﬁ cation and redemption, in order that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord” (1. Corinthians 1,26–31). To Tutu, God is an acting God in history, and in the life and words of Jesus Christ we see how God is acting: he turns the world around and re-establishes—recreates—the right relations among people. God’s calling makes his people a chosen people that serves as a beacon of hope for people, who suffer and die because of war and poverty in, for example, the Middle East, Sri Lanka or Sudan. If God can make it in South Africa, God can make it everywhere.

Anthropology: I am, because you are (Ubuntu)

Desmond Tutu knows both European and African culture. He has lived in England, travelled around the world many times and knows the complexity of South African culture. His father, Zachariah, was a Fingo, e.g. from the Xhosa-tribe in Eastern Cape, his mother, Aletha, was a Motswana and his grandmother, Kuku, was a Mosotho. From childhood, Tutu spoke the different tribal languages: Xhosa, Tswana, and Sotho. He knew the South African tribal culture from within, but he learned from his parents that it is more important to be an African and a South African than to defend one’s own tribal identity. However, it is not easy to be a black in a South Africa with apartheid, because 266 peter lodberg the ideological and political system is based on ethnicity and tribal background to the racial policy towards black and white people. According to Tutu, the most evil thing about apartheid is that it makes black people hate themselves because they are black—an unchange- able biological fact. “It demands a lot of grace to drive the demon of self-hatred out”, he used as an illustration of the feelings with which he struggled in his younger years (Du Boulay 1988). An important incident in Tutu’s childhood was when he picked up a tattered copy of the American paper Ebony from the street in the town where he lived. He read the story about a black American basketball-player, Jackie Robinson, and his break-through in the American League. Tutu did not know of basketball and thought it was some sort of table tennis, but the important thing is that he realized that a black person can be a hero. That day I grew several centimetres. I drank the gods’ nectar, when I read that a black person several thousand kilometres away against all odds was successful. He was black just like me, and he was doing something big. He discovered sport and music as areas where black people became famous: Jesse Owens, Nat King Cole, Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller, Mills Brothers, and Marion Anderson. I am not sure, how consciousness (sic) you link these things together, but deep down in my and in my friends’ psyche, we started to destroy the poison, that self-hatred and self-doubt were in our minds, and be began to adjust to that fantastic feeling, what it means to be free and responsible human beings (Du Boulay. 1988). In school, Tutu discovered the meaning and power of language for human identity and the power relations among people. He was forced to learn the language of the whites, Afrikaans, who were hated by the black people, because they represented suffering and suppression. In his schoolbooks, he read that the policy of segregation is the good order of God’s creation. Tutu refers to his old teacher of history, who tells the story about how the Xhosa-tribe always stole the cattle of the white people. Black people are stereotyped as thieves, but the teacher cannot answer the question, how the white people got the cattle in the fi rst place, if they had not stolen them from the black people. Words can be dangerous, because they create what they say. If, as a young child, a black person is told that he is nothing and cannot do anything good, then he starts to believe it. Tutu wants to break this church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 267 cycle of self-hatred and insecurity in his own lifetime. Later, he begins to ask the philosophical and theological question: “Who am I?”, and he fi nds the answer in a combination of the Anglican theology of creation and the African anthropology of Ubuntu. Ubuntu defi nes the person on the basis of his/her dependency on other human beings and creation—and not on the basis of isolated static qualities such as rationality, will or mind. Ubuntu comes from the African word Bantu that means: “I am, because you are.” According to Tutu, the most important part of being alive is to be dependent and to share. This is a basic fact to everybody irrespective of race, gender or religion, because it belongs to the very essence of being created in the image of God (Battle 1997). Tutu unites the African idea of Ubuntu with the Biblical understanding of imago Dei. The biblical understanding of creation is that God creates the world and human beings, because God is fellowship. God cannot be alone, and he creates a man and a woman, because it is not good for a man to be alone. Man and woman are one and yet different. They are unique but meant for each other. They are both-and instead of either-or. It is this dialectic in the identity of human beings that forms the basic component of Tutu’s theology and his resistance to apartheid. It opens up for an appreciation of culture—black or white—as a basic fact of life that cannot be changed. However, it does not become apartheid, culture fi ght, or clashes of civilizations because below the difference in color or culture is a common human identity of being created by the same God. The common identity in God keeps the differences within limits. Differences are a necessary reality and serve the purpose of sharing and mutuality among all God’s creatures. Apartheid is a sin against God, because it favors separate development (as the word literally means) and not common development of a society for all South Africans. Central to Tutu’s understanding of creation is his positive evaluation of the ability of human beings to show mercy and compassion with other people. This capacity has not been lost in the Fall, and in his positive understanding of anthropology, Tutu comes closer to Anglicanism and Orthodoxy (and Grundtvigianism) than the Lutheran and Reformed (and Pietistic) understanding of the Person. It is from this positive attitude to the individual as someone created for fellowship that Tutu formulates an alternative vision to the idea of revenge. Black and white people are not competitors or enemies but created by the same God and with different color, language and culture 268 peter lodberg in order to work together and build a new and common South Africa. “An enemy is a person, that is waiting to become a friend”, is one of Tutu’s sentences that sounds naive but shows that his resistance is carried by a theological spirituality more than a political program.

Christology: Love your enemy

Desmond Tutu studied theology at St. Peter’s College, which belongs to the high-church tradition in the Anglican Communion. He had to adjust to prayers at canonical hours, meditation, and Holy Communion every morning. It was a new experience for the young Tutu, but he began to appreciate the spiritual life, because it reminded him about the fact that the Christian faith was a lived and living reality, and not only a set of dogmas, principles, and history. What I learnt from the brethren has kept me up, when the storms have been at their worst. They taught me, that when I in silence look into the sad eyes of Jesus, I see the pain he felt for the least among us. After my meetings with Jesus I was challenged really to act and do something for the poorest among us (Du Boulay 1988). Through prayer and meditation, he defeats the dichotomy between life and teaching, secular and spiritual, inner and outer life. The central concept to understanding Tutu’s development is the Orthodox word for becoming god-like: theosis, that expresses that salvation happens through participation in God’s life. Tutu often returns to a phrase from Irenæus to explain what he means: “God was incarnated in Jesus Christ and became Man, so we could become, what he is.” (Battle 1997). Created in the image of God, the human being participates in the Trinity, because God wants it. The identity of a human being manifests itself through the meeting with that deep mystery that belongs to God, who cannot be known, and to God, who is known in Jesus Christ. Through prayer, people begin to see and understand the other as created in the image of God and a person, who also lives in fellowship with God through Jesus Christ. In prayer, the human being looses his/her old identity as a sinner, who wants to separate himself/herself from God and other human beings, and receives, as pardoned sinner, a new identity as God’s loved child. Prayer and meditation are linked to an existential crisis, because it is a terrible experience to loose an old identity and receive a new one. Just as many other mystiques in the Christian tradition, Tutu knows about the long and dark nights, but it affi rms his belief that God church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 269 is in the middle of life and carries all life—the moral life, the political life, and the scientifi c life. Thus, God is not to be found only at the edges or margins of life, where human knowledge ends. The opposite is the case. God is in the deepest secrecy of life and in the middle of all that exists. Tutu addresses a theological theme, which reminds us about Dietrich Bon- hoeffer, who came to similar formulations through prayer in his prison (Bonhoeffer 1969). According to Bonhoeffer, modern man is challenged by a paradox: to live as if God does not exist in the face of God. The God who is with us, is the God who leaves us. God is the crucifi ed Christ, who is present in his suffering and powerlessness. Modern man has been liberated from a false understanding of God as the almighty God, who controls everything as a puppet-master. Bonhoeffer maintains that God is ‘pro-longed’ world, which means that Jesus Christ is to be met in the middle of the world. God’s presence in the suffering and powerless Christ is an experience of transcendence and shows itself in “life-existence for others”. Faith is to participate in Christ and be available for others, just as Jesus Christ exists for others, which is the core message of his commandment to love your enemy. The Lutheran Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Anglican Desmond Tutu have looked into Christ’s sad eyes through prayer and meditation, and they have experienced that Christ is present in the world through the powerlessness. It is the poor and the suffering person who knows that you are dependent on God, and that love and salvation come from God. In the commandment to love your enemy, Tutu hears God’s yes to life, because it indicates that the enemy can be become your friend. All, that Jesus did, was done to affi rm life. He affi rmed the goodness of creation, when he healed the sick, raised the dead and fed the hungry. Tutu knows that you often fi nd a different reality with strife and divisions among people. The New Testament tells the story about God’s presence in a divided world between Romans and Jews, slavery and freedom, men and women. The division was symbolized by the wall of separation in the temple in Jerusalem, which separated the Jews from the heathens. In his resurrection, Christ has demolished the wall of separation, and God no longer has enemies. Christians and Muslims, black and white, rich and poor, lesbian and gay, Catholics and Protestants, George W. Bush and Osama bin Laden: everybody belongs to God, and nobody is outside God’s love and command to love your enemy. 270 peter lodberg

In 1982, when Tutu was taken to court by the South African authorities, because the so-called Eloff-commission4 accused Tutu of economic irregularities in his ﬁ nancial administration of the South African Council of Churches, he closed his defence in court by saying: “I hope you will understand that I am not driven by political or ideological convictions. I am obliged by the Gospel of Jesus Christ . . . I have to obey God rather than men.” Beyers-Naudé had referred to the same sentence in Acts 5,29, when he was forced to leave his congregation in 1962 after having formulated a critique against the policy of apartheid (Lodberg 1988).

The Holy Spirit: Truth and Reconciliation

In the last years of the apartheid regime, South Africa was very close to a civil war. Violence was escalating, and the situation was out of control. From its exile, the African National Congress (ANC) called for “the people’s war”, and inside South Africa, the police and the army followed the government’s “total strategy”. In 1989, F.W. de Klerk is elected new president. He has no conﬁ dence in the total strategy, and the white business-community starts talking with the ANC in Lusaka. Dialogue replaces confrontation, and the negotiations lead to the release of Nelson Mandela after 27 years of prison on Robben Island. A political process is put into place, and in April 1994, South Africa holds its ﬁ rst democratic election. For Tutu, the election is much more than a political occasion. To him it is a religious experience. Against all odds, the election takes place in a peaceful atmosphere. The feeling of change is everywhere. The blacks feel they are equal with the whites, when they have cast their ballot, and the white South Africans do not have to feel ashamed about their privileges. The miracle has happened. A democratic and peaceful change has taken place. The non-violent way of Desmond Tutu had shown itself to be a way forward. Mandela formulated the idea of a truth and reconciliation commission (Tutu 1999). It was important to take an active position towards South Africa’s violent past and provide information about the human rights violations that had taken place. The proposal was rejected by

4 The Eloff-Commission was established in November 1981 by the South African government and chaired by Judge F.C. Eloff. The Commission was set up to investigate all aspects of the work of the South African Council of Churches in relation to South African law. For more details about the Eloff-Commission, see (Albrecht and Liebich). church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 271 former president de Klerk, who feared a “witch hunt” that would destroy the possibilities for improved relationships between white and black South Africans. The ANC supported the idea of a commission as long as it would look into the atrocities committed by the white community against the blacks (Meredith 1999). The ANC considered its use of violence as a legitimate form of resistance in the war for freedom and suggested a commission in line with the Nuremberg Process after World War II. Another group wanted a general amnesty in the name of reconciliation. After many discussions, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) was established in 1996 and began its process of hearings around the country. Telling the truth about the past became a prerequisite to obtain amnesty. All parties were included in the process, but it remained one of the short-comings of the TRC, that former president de Klerk and other ministers refused to participate in its work. Only individuals who could verify they had acted because of administrative pressure and political conviction were able to obtain amnesty. The TRC worked along the so-called Nørgaard-principles in order to decide whether an action had been politically motivated. The Nørgaard-principles are formulated by Professor Carl Aage Nørgaard, University of Aarhus, and address the motive, purpose, context, authorization, legality, facts, and proportionality of an action. Desmond Tutu was elected chairman of the TRC by President Mandela. In the public, Tutu was criticized by persons, who thought his theological and Christian approach to the TRC was incompatible with a State-sponsored commission, that should refl ect secular values. “We are not all Christians”, said a white anti-apartheid activist, who lost his wife and child when a bomb sent by the South African military exploded in their home in Angola in 1984: “There is no feeling of forgiveness in my heart. There is no legal or constitutional duty for me to forgive.” (Meredith 1999). The critique touches something important. Was the TRC possible, because most South Africans considered themselves as Christians and knew Christian concepts such as: reconciliation, guilt, forgiveness? Perhaps, but it is also important that Tutu and some other church leaders had authority in society because of their non-violent attitude and practice in the struggle against apartheid. Tutu was aware of the problem and dilemma. He stressed several times that the TRC was not in a position where it could demand or ask people to forgive and to be reconciled with the killer of their husband or father. The TRC 272 peter lodberg could provide the space for the truth to be told and reconciliation to happen, if the persons involved wanted it to happen. Many South Africans saw the very existence of the TRC as a recognition of the fact that atrocities had taken place during the apartheid years. The victims were provided with a public space, where they could tell their stories and be recognized as individuals, who has a right to be heard and understood. They could challenge the killer to see the situation from the victim’s point of view, and the killer was provided the space to ask for forgiveness. Telling the truth and being respected as individual is the fi rst step towards healing and reconciliation. Two months before the publication of the TRC report in October 1998, de Klerk and the ANC tried to stop it. De Klerk criticized the way his work during the apartheid years was described, and the ANC was angry, because the report criticized the violence and torture being used in ANC’s camps outside South Africa. Tutu was furious and, at an improvised press conference, he warned against a new tyranny. “I did not fi ght one tyranny to have a new one,” (Meredith 1999). he says outside Pretoria Theatre, and he challenges the South Africans to hear the truth and live with it in order to move forward to a more united and reconciled South Africa. This was the fi rst—but not last—time Tutu would criticize the new democratically elected rulers for not living up to the trust shown to them by the people, and to its responsibility as a democratically elected government. Reconciliation is important to Tutu’s public theology. Its biblical background is Matthew 5,21ff., where we meet the invitation to be reconciled with our enemy, before we come close to the altar. St. Paul widens the perspective in Galatians 3,26ff., and reconciliation includes the right relationship between the Jew and the Greek, man and woman, slave and free. The Ephesians addresses the same issue of reconciliation, when it says that Jesus made Jews and Greeks one, and “has broken down the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2,13–16). In each of these Biblical verses, we meet the Greek word for reconciliation allasomai, which means “to take the other’s place/perspective” and refers to the word allos (the other). In Christ, God has reconciled himself with the world by taking the place of the other, e.g. incarnation. The dividing wall of hostility has been broken down, and the Church is now left with ‘the ministry of reconciliation’. According to Tutu, this has to be taken seriously as part of history. Incarnation has taken place in history, and the disappearance of the dividing wall of hostility is a historical fact. Thus, the Church has only one duty: to act in the world and carry church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 273 out its ministry of reconciliation in the midst of human misery. This is done by insisting on non-violent means to end confl icts, whether it be in South Africa, Israel/Palestine or Iraq. The Church introduces the way of reconciliation in history and replaces revenge as the policy of Christian ethics. Or in Desmond Tutu’s words: “If we all say ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, then we will all be blinded.’” (Tutu 1999). The way of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission was the way of a principled compromise. Amnesty was granted in exchange for a full disclosure for the individuals, and the victims would be able to rehabilitate their dignity and personality through telling their story to the nation. In Tutu’s theology, the sacramental expression and reality of reconciliation in history is the celebration of the Holy Communion. It is part of Tutu’s daily routine and practice. When he became archbishop, he instructed all Anglican congregations to celebrate Holy Communion once every day, and when he became chairperson of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, he invited the commission to celebrate Holy Communion. The world has been touched by Christ’s redemptive work and is called to the path of reconciliation. It is the task of the Church to remind the world of this alternative to war and revenge, and walk the way of peace and reconciliation in theological theory, spirituality and Christian practice. Today, Tutu continues his work for truth and reconciliation. He is concentrating on the situation in Israel/Palestine and works closely with Palestinian Churches and Christians as Patron of Sabeel, which is a Center for Palestinian theology in East Jerusalem.5 He supports them in their work to formulate a vision for peace and justice in the Middle East and to act non-violently in an extremely violent society. He has criticized the use of violence on all sides, and he has compared Israel’s wall/barrier/fence of separation and the Israeli-settlements in the Occupied Area with the situation of apartheid in South Africa. Through roads and physical infrastructure, Palestinians and Israelis live de facto in different areas without any contacts. The policy of separate development has been put into place, and the result is a never-ending spiral of more and more violence. Lately, the General Secretary of the United Nations, Kofi Annan, has asked Tutu to participate in The Alliance of Civilizations, i.e. a new

5 www.sabeel.org 274 peter lodberg

initiative designed to help avoid the realization of Samuel P. Hunting- ton’s vision about the clash of civilizations in international politics. It is yet to be seen how this new initiative will develop.6

Conclusion: Desmond Tutu’s theology

Desmond Tutu’s theology drinks from several wells. He represents Angli- can theology—inspired by the High Church tradition. He knows about the desert fathers. His prayer and spiritual life with its experience of the black night comes from the desert. Even though he was often criticized by black theologians, his understanding of black consciousness comes from the black theology and plays a very important role together with his understanding of African religion. Tutu can easily combine these different sources of his theology. It is part of his theological identity that no theology can fully express the truth about God. No part of theology can maintain that it is more universal than other parts. West- ern theology cannot claim to be more universal than African theology, because only Jesus Christ is universal. Therefore, theology should try to formulate universal claims, but all theology should be aware of the fact that human words about God are penultimate—only God in Jesus Christ is ultimate. He understands himself in the tradition of non-violence following from Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Tutu knows there is a long way to go before South Africa can live up to its own standards of personal and collective human rights set out in the South African Constitution. His voice is still heard in the South African debate, and he is very critical of any politician who is trying to misuse his power to the beneﬁ t of himself and not of the larger community.

References

Albrecht, Gisela, and Hartwig Liebich, eds. Bekenntnis und Widerstand. Kirchen Südafrikas im Konﬂ ikt mit dem Staat. Dokumente zur Untersuchung des Südafrikanischen Kirchenrats durch die Eloff-Kommission. Hamburg: Missionshilfe Verlag. Auchet, Marc, Paul Honoré, Marianne Katoppo, and Hans Raun Iversen. 1995. Kaj Munk. Dansk rebel og international inspirator. København: Akademisk Forlag. Battle, Michael. 1997. Reconciliation: the Ubuntu theology of Desmond Tutu. Cleveland Ohio: Pilgrim Press.

6 www.un.com church resistance to apartheid and injustice in africa 275

Behrendt, Flemming, ed. 1984. Livet værd. Artikler og taler af Allan Boesak. København: Gad. Dietrich Bonhoeffer. 1969. Modstand og Hengivelse. København: Rasmus Fischers Forlag. Du Boulay, Shirley. 1988. Tutu. Voice of the Voiceless. London: Hodder and Stoughton. Honoré, Paul. 1995. “Kaj Munk, Allan Boesak og Sydafrika”. In Auchet et al. 1995. Kristiansen, Tomm, and Gunnar Lislerud. 1984. Bishop Desmond Tutu. Oslo: Luther Forlag. Lodberg, Peter. 1988. Apartheid og de lutherske kirker. Århus: Anis. ——. 2006. Håbets fyrtårn. Inspiration fra Desmond Tutu. København: Unitas. Meredith, Martin. 1999. Coming to Terms. South Africa’s Search for Truth. Oxford: Public Affairs Ltd. Tutu, Desmond. 1984a. Biography. http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1984/ (accessed June 26, 2008). ——. 1984b. Nobel Lecture, December 11, 1984. http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/ peace/laureates/1984/tutu-lecture.html (accessed June 26, 2008). ——. 1985. Skabt i Guds billede. København: Det økumeniske Fællesråd. ——. 1989. Tanker og taler. Udvalgt af Naomi Tutu. København: Borgen. ——. 1999. No Future without Forgiveness. Johannesburg: The Marsh Agency and Dou- bleday. ——. 2004. God has a Dream. Johannesburg: Rider. ——. 2005. “Forgiveness is for Real”. In Ehlers, Anne, Niels Grønkjær, and Marianne Levinsen. 2005. Biskop for Herren og så mange andre: Festskrift til Kjeld Holms 60-års dag. København: Anis. 127–30.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

INSTEAD OF A CONCLUSION

Søren Dosenrode

A thousand years which disappeared, this morning at 5, at the hands of fear1 (Kaj Munk, the morning Denmark was occupied, April 9th, 1940) Over the years, a large number of articles and books have been written on the subject of this book, ranging from advocating almost any kind of violence to the strictest paciﬁ sm. This anthology cannot give a clear-cut answer to the question of the compatibility of Christianity and resistance. Yet, Johannes Nissen, in chapter two, clearly demonstrates one thing, namely that being a Christian does not imply being passive. His analysis of the word ‘paciﬁ sm’ shows that it comes from ‘pax’ and ‘facere’ thus meaning ‘peacemaker’ something active, but exactly how active should a Christian be, and should one apply violent means or non-violent ones? Where is the border between what is God’s and what is the emperor’s? Nissen’s analysis concludes that Christians are not supposed to lean back passively or obey blindly. Instead, they have to resist actively but non-violently, but the various contributions to this book have clearly shown that when confronted with real life, and there are no easy answers to the question for those involved. The very few persons analysed in this book do not allow for any kind of generalisation. Nevertheless, the various contributions touched upon a number of common features:

1) Personal commitment to Christianity, 2) Reluctance to and restraint in the use of violence 3) Martyrdom

1 “Tusind år så blev de væk, denne morgen kl. 5 af skræk” 278 søren dosenrode

Personal commitment to Christianity

It is close to a platitude to mention that the persons in this book were strongly committed to Christianity,2 why should they otherwise be willing to die for their conviction? Still, their examples show an extraordinary conviction and a feeling of responsibility for others whom they wanted to help against tyranny, which deserves to be highlighted. They did not agree on the methods, but they wanted to stop other peoples’ sufferings and they found their arguments in the Holy Bible. Several of the persons mentioned in this book went through a process of conversion; mostly having had a positive, yet academic or distanced relationship to the Christian faith before. Conversion is an essentially personal and private experience, which is hard to describe and even harder to analyse. For some, it seems to have been a process, for others a ‘here and now’ experience and decision, but after the conversion, their relationship to God changed radically, towards a personal and more intense one (i.e. Boenhoeffer, Jägerstätter, Romeo, Tutu).

Reluctance in the use of violence

The persons investigated in this book, whether theologians or ‘just’ inspired by Christianity, tended to be very reluctant in advocating the use of violent-resistance, with Kaj Munk as an exception. Christianity, resting on the New Testament, is not a violent religion per se, as the Sermon on the Mount clearly shows us. Personally felt injustice was not sufﬁ cient reason to begin a ﬁ ght; much greater things would have to be at stake often with the aim of restoring a previous order. In the writings of European philosophy and political science, the right to kill tyrants was also, as a general rule, looked upon with suspicion (e.g. Bodain, Hobbes). However, during the 18th and 19th century, as a consequence of the Enlightenment, some secular thinkers did advocate the abolition of tyranny by force resulting in the American and the French Revolutions, as well as in the writings of Karl Marx and Friederich Engels, advocating the ‘revolt of the oppressed classes’, as they called it.

2 v. Tresckow is a possible exception. instead of a conclusion 279

As already mentioned, the various denominations’ points of view were cemented around the 16th century, in a Europe which was then in the transition from feudalism to absolutism. How were the arguments of the eight persons we have looked at used later, and in a modern world? Among all the persons looked at in this book, the argument for resisting oppression was to help to other people, not just themselves. The methods of resistance varied a lot; Braune appealed to the authorities in an attempt to tell the head of state, Adolf Hitler, what was happening, and he then started active, non-violent resistance by hiding mentally ill persons and forging documents, etc. Jägerstätter could not go actively into an unjust war killing innocent people, ﬁ ghting the war of the Nazis; Tutu developed a theology of forgiveness and reconciliation; Romero spoke openly about the oppression taking place, and accepted the violent resistance, but urged that it should not be exaggerated. Ordass and Munk urged people to resist violently, and Bonhoeffer and v. Tresckow were active participants in a plot to kill a tyrant, one in the conception and planning phase, the other in these phases, as well as in the actual attempt. With the possible exception of v. Tresckow (cf. chapter 5 in this book), all these persons had a strong Christian basis for their actions, and yet they were so different!

Martyrdom

In taking on the task of resisting the oppressors, several of the persons in this book very consciously accepted that their own violent death could or would be the result. ‘Martyrdom’ would be the right term for some of the persons looked at, but in other cases this concept should be substituted with ‘self-sacrifi ce’ instead. In line with the old church tradition, I consider a martyr a person who was killed without defending him- or herself, for his or her belief in Christ (‘martyr’ is derived from martys the Greek word for ‘witness’). In the Catholic “New Advent” a martyr is defi ned as: [. . .] a martyr, or witness of Christ, is a person who, though he has never seen nor heard the Divine Founder of the Church, is yet so fi rmly convinced of the truths of the Christian religion that he gladly suffers death rather than deny it. St. John, at the end of the fi rst century, employs the word with this meaning; Antipas, a convert from paganism, is spoken of as a ‘faithful witness’ (martus) who was slain among you, where Satan dwelleth (New Advent). 280 søren dosenrode

Person Violent / Non-violent Argument for resistance 3 Resistance? Braune Non-violent “Now again it must be quite clear that also the most humane mercy killing remains a murder” Jägerstätter Non-violent “Who can be a soldier for Christ and a soldier for National Socialism at the same time; to ﬁ ght for Christ’s victory and that of His Church and at the same time to ﬁ ght for the victory of National Socialism?” Tutu Non-violent “If we all say ‘an eye for an eye, . . .’, then we will all be blinded” Romero Partly violent “. . . insurrection is legitimate only ‘in the very exceptional circumstances of an evident, prolonged tyranny that seriously works against fundamental human rights and seriously damages the common good of the country, whether it emanates from one person or from clearly injust structures’” Bonhoeffer Partly violent “. . . we could say that for Bonhoeffer, his resistance was a question of living in accordance with the Christ in reality, it was a question of being Christ for the other.” Ordass Violent “He (Ordass) confessed God as the Lord of history; he praised the Hungarian youth for their strength and begged them to realise that the Hungarian future could be imagined only under the guidance of God.” Munk Violent “[. . .] are women and children threatened of beasts, is it Unchristian to sit as spectator [. . .] Therefore is Christianity a religion for heroes [. . .].” v. Tresckow Violent “We must prove to the world and to future generations that the men of the German Resistance movement dared to take the decisive step and to hazard their lives upon it”

3 The arguments are fetched from the various chapters in this book, apart from Bishop Ordass’, which was provided separately by Dr. Böröcz. instead of a conclusion 281

The other case is a person who sacrifi ces his or her life for others, or takes on sufferings for others, for political ends. A death which could be just as heroic or important as that of a martyr, but not religiously motivated. All the persons looked at in this book took on heavy burdens in order to help others, not themselves personally. For some, the price was paid with their lives (Bonhoeffer, Jägerstätter, Munk, Romero, v. Tresckow), others were imprisoned for shorter or longer periods (Braune, Ordass), and others again were restrained in their ability to move freely or otherwise sanctioned (Tutu). It is not for us to judge whether they did the right or the wrong thing, whether they did what God had wanted them to do or not. Instead Dietrich Bonhoeffer gets the last word: I believe that God may and will create good in everything, even in the most evil. For this he needs human beings, who let all things work together for good to them. I believe that God wants to give us the strength we need to cope with any emergency. But he does not give it to us beforehand, so that we do not rely on ourselves, but on God alone. In such belief, all fear for the future ought to be overcome. I believe that even our mistakes and errors are not comitted in vain, and that God does not fi nd it any more diffi cult to cope with them than with our presumed good deeds. I believe that God is not a timeless fact but that he waits for and answers honest prayer and responsible acts. (Bonhoeffer 1998, my translation).

References

Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. 1998. “Wiederstand und Ergebung”. In Briefe und Aufzeichnungen aus der Haft: Dietrich Bonhoeffer Werke, Band 8 (DBW 8). Gütersloh. http://www.gott. net/1815.html (accessed June 30, 2008)). New Advent. Martyr. Catholic Encyclopedia. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/ 09736b.htm (accessed June 29, 2008).

INDEX

A Digniﬁ ed Death 192 Bible 58, 278 Aakjær, Jeppe 96 Binding, Karl 179, 180, 191 Absalon 108 Bird Phoenix, The 101 Action T-4 182, 183, 189 bishops 10 agreement 216 Blomberg, Werner von 123 Alliance of Civilizations 273 Bodain 278 alienation 38 Bodelschwingh, Friedrich von 176, Alverdens Urostifterne (The Universal 185, 186, 188 Troublemakers) 105 Boesak, Allan 261, 262 Alves, Margarida Maria 4 Boeselager, Philipp von 129, 131, 140, American Revolution 21, 278 141 Anabaptist Church 16 Bolshevism 75 Anabaptists 26 Bomholt, Julius 96 anarchy 7 Bonhoeffer, Dietrich 47, 50, 67, 139, Antonius 8 147 ff, 185, 262, 269, 279, 281 apartheid 261, 267 Bonhoeffer, Karl 147, 185 apostolic succession 10 Book of Acts 9 Aretin, Felicitas von 138, 139 Borissov, massacre of 125, 136 Aretin, Karl Otmar von 135 n. 34 Bormann, Martin 129 n. 20 Aretin, Uta von 133 nn. 30–31 Bouhler, Philipp 182, 192 Aristotle 7 Brack, Victor 186 Armed Forces, see German Armed Brandenburg 182 Forces Brandenburg-Görden 182 Arminians 18, 20 Brandenburg-Havel 55 Army, see German Armed Forces Brandt, Karl 182, 192 Arnfred, Jens Th. 83 Braunau 60 Askov 97, 98 Braune, Berta 178, 179, 188, 189 assimilation 38 Braune, Gretel 178 Augustine/Augustinus 12, 13, 20 Braune, Martin 178 Augustus 9 Braune, Paul Gerhard 175 ff, 176, authority 69 177, 178, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, Azcue, Jesuit Segundo 256 194, 195, 199, 279, 281 Braune, Paul 178 Bantzer-Plan 239 n. 4 Braune, Werner 178 Barmen Declaration 189 Breitenbuch, Eberhard von 129 Barmen 189 brown dictatorship 205, 208 Barrera, Ernesto 244 Buffalo, New York 86 Barth, Karl 189, 227 Burke, Edmund 24, 25 base communities 254 Beck, Ludwig 125, 125 n. 12 Calvin, Jean 15 Beckett, Thomas 233 Calvinist 26 Before Cannae 102 campesinos 237, 238, 239, 243, 250 bellum justum ( just war) 12, 13 capitalism 94, 239 Bereczky, Albert 213 n. 8 Carter, Jimmy 252, 254 Bernburg 182 Catholic Church 14, 26, 190 Bethel 176, 185, 189, 194 causa iusta 12 Beugel, bishop 104 CELAM see Latin American Bishops’ Bewältigung der Vergangenheit 82 Council 284 index

Chancellery of the Führer 181 Conti, Dr. 198 charity 107 conversion(s) 150, 236, 278 Charles V 14 Council of Constance 14 Chavez, Luis 235, 236 counter violence 248 Christ 149, 151, 155, 156, 157, 159, counterinsurgency 240 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, critical-active resistance 39 167, 168, 169 critical-constructive participation 39 Christian 148, 150, 151, 154, 155, Csaba, Gyula 211 n. 7 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, Csengödy, László 221 n. 24 163, 166, 167, 169 Christian base communities 238, 239, D’Aubuisson, Roberto 234 243 Danchurchaid 261 Christian Church 195 Danish Folk High School 83 Christian Democratic Party 243, 253 Danish Ministry for Ecclesiastical Christian Federation of Salvadoran Affairs 82 Campesinos (FECCAS) 238 de civitate dei 12 Christian soldier 107 De Klerk 272 Christianity 8, 278 Death of Ewald, The 105, 107 Christians 9, 10, 11, 26 death sentence 68 Christians, German (Deutsche Death with dignity act 192 Christen) 152 Decius 10 Christology, Christological 152, 159, Declaration of the Rights of Man 22, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169 24 Christ-reality democratic basic right 244 (Christuswirklichkeit) 163, 168 Denkschrift für Adolf Hitler 176 church conﬂ icts 206 deportation of the German Church of the Holy Spirit 84 citizens 211 Church Theology 39 deportation of the Jews 205 Church, Churches 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 26 Dezséry, Lászlo, bishop 217 n. 15, Churchill, Winston 102 220 n. 21 civil courage 70 dictatorships 208 civil disobedience 30 dignity 192 civil war 240 Dinnyés, Lajos, Prime Minister civitas terrene 12 219 n. 17 Clausen, Fritz 87 diocesan radio 255, 257 coalition, large 225 Diocletian 10, 11 Cold War 130 Dipper, Christoph 134 n. 33 commissar order 125, 135 doctor-patient relationship 194 Commission on Truth and doctrine of the two kingdoms 31, 32, Reconciliation 50 36 commitment 38 Dorn, professor 104 Committee of Truth 233, 234 Dreyer, Carl Th. 81 Commodus 9 communism 206, 239 earthly state (civitas terrene) 12 communists 239 Easter Morning 90 Confessing Church 175, 189 Ebbesen, Niels 92 n. 6, 107 conformity 34 ecclesial base communities 255 conformity, non- 34 Edict of Tolerance (Edict of Milan) 11 conscience 62, 72 Eglﬁ ng-Haar 180 conscientous objections 57 Eisenberg, Christian 86, 114, 116 Constantine 11, 12 Ellacuría, Ignacio 245 Constantinople 11 Eloff-commission 270 Constantine the Great Emperor 13 (Constantinus) 9, 11 Empire 13 index 285

Enlightenment 23, 24, 278 German occupation 205 Erasmus of Rotterdam 19 Gersdorff, Rudolf von 124, 125, 126, Erbkranke 181 129, 131, 132 n. 27, 134, 136 Erichsen, Svend 101 Gert, Count 92 n. 6 eugenical 197 Gestapo (GEheime STAatsPOlizei) 59, eugenic(s) 181, 190 96, 123, 127, 128, 129, 134, 139 Eulenburg-Wickert, Siegfried von 128, Gethsemane 90 133 n. 31) Gnadentod (mercy death) 182, 195 euthanasia memorandum 177, 178, God 278 197 ff God’s veil 218 euthanasia program 177, 182, 189 God’s word 15 euthanasia 179, 181, 190, 192, 194, Goerdeler, Carl 125, 126, 141 n. 38 200 Good Friday 90 Evangelical Church of Germany 187 Göring, Hermann 122, 125, 185 Evangelii Nuntiandi 246 Göring, M.H. 185 government 22 Fabius 102 Grabner, Sigrid 138 Falkenhayn, Erich von 121 Grafeneck 182, 185, 190 Falkenhayn, Erika von see Tresckow, Graml, Hermann 136, 137 Erika von Grande, Rutilio 236, 237, 240, 242, Fenigsen, Richard 191 244, 249 Fest, Joachim 130 n. 25 grassroots communities 237 Finland 108 Great Britain 22 Fließer, bishop 61 Greschat, Martin 141 forgiveness 50, 51 Grotius, Hugo 18, 19 Fourteen Families 238 Grundtvig, N.F.S. 89, 97, 101 Franklin, Benjamin 21 Gürtner, Franz 186, 189 Freisler, Roland 123 n. 6 Gutcheon, Beth 86, 116 French Revolution 22, 23, 278 Frit Danmarks Studentergruppe 108 Hadamar 182, 184 Fritsch, Werner von 123 Halder, Franz 124 Fry, Franklin Clark 226 Hamburger Institut für Fuglsang Damgaard, bishop 84 Sozialforschung 134 Fuglsang-Damgaard, Calina 84 Hannibal 102 Fundamental Theology 115 Hardenberg, Hans von 124 Hartheim 182, 184 Galen, Clemens August Graf von 189, Hassell, Ilse von 129 n. 21 190 Hassell, Ulrich von 125, 126 n. 15, Gallienus 10 129 Garay, Amando Antonio 234 Hegel 114 gas chambers 76 Heim, Xaver 133 n. 31 Geismar, Eduard 93 Helweg (Reverend Helweg) 84, 85 Geismar, Oscar 92, 110 Henningsen, Poul 96, 116 Gelsted, Otto 96 hereditari diseases 181 Gerada, Emanuele 236 Herod the King 81 Gerlach, Christian 134, 135 Heuss, Theodor 130 German Armed Forces/Army 120, Himmler, Heinrich 125 121, 122, 125, 126, 132, 134, 137, Hindenburg, Paul von 122 138 Hitler, Adolf 37, 47, 50 n. 14, 81, 86, German Church 187, 189 88, 89, 90, 92, 102, 119, 122, 123, German citizens 211 125, 126, 127, 130, 131, 132, 134, German issue 211 134 n. 33, 135, 137, 140, 152, 154, German Memorandum 207 167, 182, 188, 192, 195 German occupation of Hungary 210 Hitler’s army 56 286 index

Hobbes, Thomas 7, 19, 278 just war (bellum justum) 12, 13 Hoche, Alfred 179, 180, 191 just war theory 46, 47 Hoffnungstal Institutions 176, 177, just war tradition 46 178, 194, 195 justice, defence of 30 Horthy, Miklós 205 Horváth, Janós 220 n. 21, 224 n. 34, Kádár, János 221 226 Káldy, Zoltán, bishop 228 Hromadka, Joseph L. 227 Kaltenbrunner, Ernst 129 n. 20, 141 human dignity 192 Kanzlei des Führers (KdF) 181, 187 human rights 233, 250, 251, 252, Keigwin, R.P. 103, 116 253 kenosis 103 Hungarian revolution 221 Kieler, Elsebet 108 Hunø, L.M. 83 n. 2, 116 Kierkegaard 101 Hürter, Johannes 136, 137 King, Martin Luther 4 Kleist, Berndt von 124 I accuse 180, 195 Kluge, Günther von 124 Ich klage an 180 Knights Templar 107 idealist approach 18 Koch, Bodil 86 idolatry 249 Koch, Hal 86, 96, 97, 98, 99 idolising violence 244 Koch, Hans 96 idols of death 249, 251, 259 Kolbe, Maximilian 4 imago Dei 267 Kreutzberg, fr. 67 inner emigration 203 Kreyssig, Lothar 189 inner exile (see also internal exile) 203 Kronika, Jacob 105 Inner Mission 177, 178, 182, 184, Kurz, Sepp 75 185, 187, 188 Institute for Contemporary History Lammers, Hans-Heinrich 188 (Munich) 136 Langlet, Valdemar 206 n. 2, 210 internal exile 207, 227 lapsi 10, 26 internal solidarity 215, 216 Latin American Bishops’ Council involvement 38 (CELAM) 235, 238 Latourette 10 Jacobsen, Erik Thostrup 84, 116 Law No. 22 of 1957 227 Jägerstätter, Franz 55 ff, 81, 114, 279, lebensunwertes Leben 179 281 Leber, Annedore 130 Jägerstätter, Franziska 55 Leber, Julius 130 Jehovah’s Witnesses 66 left-wing dictatorships 207, 208, Jesuit University in Georgetown 251 211 n. 7 Jesus Christ 158, 159, 160, 164, 165, Legal Aid Ofﬁ ce 234 166, 168 legitima auctoritas 12 Jewish Laws 205 legitimacy 22 Jewish question 209 legitimate 12 Jews 119, 120, 123, 125, 132, Lehndorff, Heinrich von 124 134 n. 33, 135 letters of condolence 183, 186 Jochmann, fr. 69 liberation theologian 245, 254 John Paul II 258 liberation theology 241, 251 John the Baptist 95 liberation 237, 246 Jørgensen, Theodor 86 Liebeneiner, Wolfgang 180 July 20th, 1944 119, 120, 124, 125, life (lives) unworthy of life 179, 189, 127, 129, 130, 131, 134, 137, 138, 192, 195, 200 141 Lilje, Hanns 220 n. 22 Jupiter 102 Linden, Herbert 186 just and holy war 61 Lobetal 177, 178, 185 just revolution 48 n. 11 Lobetal community 177 index 287

Locke, John 7, 20, 21, 23 Moses 95 Lorscheider, Aloisío 254 Mother Theresa 251 loss of dignity 192 Munk, Kaj 1, 1 n. 1, 3, 81 ff, 87, 117, love of enemies 30, 42, 43, 44 206, 206 n. 2, 207, 230, 262, 277, low-intensity-warfare 240 278, 279, 281 Luther, Martin 14 Münnich, Ferenc (Prime Minister Ferenc Lutheran 26 Münnich) 221, 224 Lutheran cross theology 223 Mussolini 81, 88, 107, 108 Lutheran World Federation (LWF) 207, 219, 220, 225, 228, 231 Nagy, Imre 222 national security 244, 249, 255 Machiavelli 99 nationalization of the denominational Macías, Alirio Napoleon 244 schools 216, 217, 218 Mádl, Ferenc 207 natural law 20 Mandela, Nelson 263, 270, 271 Navarro, Alfonso 237, 244 Manstein, Erich von 124 Nazi regime 37 Marcsek, János, vice-bishop 214 Nazism 206 Marcus Aurelius 9 Nebe, Arthur 132, 134 ‘Maria’ (codename) 188, 189 New Testament 278 Mark 10:35–45 35 Niels Ebbesen see Ebbesen, Niels Mark 12:13–17 36 Nielsen Brovst, Bjarne 90, 117 martyr(s) 10, 26, 71, 120, 128, 137, Night of the Broken Glass 123 138, 139, 245 Nobel Prize of Peace 251 martyr (defi nition of ) 139, 279 nonviolent solutions 75 martyrdom 139, 141 n. 38, 256, 257, Nørgaard, Carl Aage 271 279 North America 21 Mathiasen, Helle 88, 107, 116 Norwegian church 82, 83 Mauthausen 55 Norwegian Lutheran Church 209 Mayer, Ruprecht 4 nuncio 236, 237, 242, 255, 256 Medellin 235, 238, 241, 244, 246, 254 obedience 69 Medical Corps 66 obedience, political 31 Meeting of the Executive Committee offi ce for legal aid 250 of the World Council of Churches in oligarchy 240, 242, 254, 256 Hungary (MoECoWCCiH) 219, Ollerup speech 88, 91 231 On Law of War and Peace 19 Meldebogen 184 On the freedom of a Christian Melting Pot, The 107 man 14 memorandum for Adolf Hitler 186, On Tyranny 21 187, 188, 194, 195, 197 ff Operation, The 101, 102 mercy death 182, 195 opposition, non-violent 42 Michelsen, Birgit 83, 117 opposition, violent 42, 248 military ambulance service 55 oppression 36 Milvia Bridge 11 Option for the Poor 248, 251 Mindszenty, Jósef, cardinal 215, Opus Dei 235 219 n. 17 Ordass, Lajos, bishop 203 ff, 203, 204, Ministry of Foreign Affairs 82 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, ministry of reconciliation 272 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, Mohr, Berta, see Braune, Berta 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, Møller, Per Stig 108, 117 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 279, 281 Moltke, Helmut James von 141 Ordet II 110 Mommsen, Hans 126 n. 15, 135 Ortiz Luna, Octavio 244 Montanists 111 Ostermiething 75 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de 23 Oven, Margarete von 127 288 index pacifi sm 30, 46, 47, 48, 147, 151, 154, Refl ections on the Revolution in 155, 158, 161, 169, 277 France 24 pacifi st tradition 17 Reformation 14, 17 Paine, Thomas 21 Reformed Church(es) 15, 189 Palacios, Rafael 244 Regalado, Hector Antonio 234 partisans 120, 125, 128, 134, 135 regent 20, 21 passive distance 38 registration forms 184 passivism 30 Reich Committee 181 passivity 42, 43, 47 Reichkriegsgericht (The Reich’s Military Pastoral Constitution on the Tribunal) 66 Church 78 Reinisch, Franz 67 pastoral letters 245, 246 relations between Germans, Austrians Patron-pass (Schutzpass) 210 n. 6 and Israelis 57 Paul VI 246, 247 repression 245, 247, 253, 258 pax Sovietica 225 resist 21, 277 peacemaker(s) 47, 277 resistance 7, 11, 14, 17, 21, 147, 154, peacemaking 42, 47, 48, 50 161, 162, 168, 169, 229, 259, 277 peace-treaty in Trianon 205 resistance (defi nition of ) 8 Pedersen, Jan 86, 117 resistance, active 228, 229 1 Peter 2:13–17 34 resistance, active and passive 205, Pétursson, Hallgrimur 207 228 Pietro-action 229 resistance, non- 30, 43 Pilatus, Hans 77 resistance, non-violent 43 poor 236, 240, 241, 242, 244, 247, resistance, passive 29 248, 251, 252, 254, 255, 259 responsibility 61 Pope 13 Revelation 13 35 Popiełuszko, Jerzy 4 revolutionary groups 244 Populum Progressio 247, 249 right and left dictatorships 207 Poulsen, Sigurd Enggaard 105 right of organising 244 power issue 35 right of resistance 18, 24 prayer of a former German Soldier right of self-defence 244 76 right-wing dictatorships 207, 208 prophetic symbolism 44 Ringshausen, Gerhard 136 Prophetic Theology 39 Rivera, Arturo 247, 254 prophetical mission 204 Roberts, Thomas D., SJ, archbishop 71 prosecution(s) 10, 11 Röhm revolt 123 Protestant Church 14 Roman Empire 8, 9 public theology 272 Romans 13 31, 32, 33, 37, 46 Puebla 248, 253, 254 Romans 13:1–17 31 Romans 13:2 29 Quarracino, Antonio 254 Römer, Felix 136, 137 Quisling-government 209 Romero, Carlos Umberto 240 Romero, Oscar Arnulfo 115, 233 ff, Radical Liberal Party 90 279, 281 Radical Liberals 90 Rothfels, Hans 130, 136 Raffay, Sándor, bishop 210, 216 n. 13 Rundstedt, Gerd von 122, 124 Rahner, Karl 107, 117 rural workers 236, 237, 239 Rákosi, Mátyás 216 Russia 60 Ravasz, László, bishop 215, 216 Russian October revolution 208 realist 18 Russian Orthodox Church 208 reconciliation 50 recta intentio 12 Salazar, José Calderón 257 red dictatorship 205, 208 Savaria, Alvaro Rafael 234 index 289

Scheuer, Manfred 56 Steinbach, Peter 133 n. 29 Scheurig, Bodo 126 n. 15, 132 Steincke, Karl Kristian (K.K. Schlabrendorff, Fabian von 123, 124, Steincke) 96 125, 126, 127, 129, 131, 132, 135 sterilization 181, 185 Schleitheimer Article 16 Strengnäs, Sweden 86 Schmundt, Rudolf 124 structural violence 240, 248 Schoenborn, Paul Gerhard 81, 86 subversive memory 37 Schönborn, Christoph 56 syncretism 10 Schulenburg, Ehrengard von 127 Schulte, Heinrich 185 T-4 (Tiergartenstrasse 4) 182, 184, Second Treaties of Government, 187 The 7 Taking the Law into One’s Hands self-sacrifi ce 279 100, 117 Septimus Servus 10 terrorist violence 247 Serédi, Jusztinián, cardinal 210 theosis 268 Sermon on the Mount 29, 32, 40 Thomas Aquinas 13, 15 Sieyès, Emmanuel Joseph 23, 24 Tischreden 15 Skovmand, Svend 86 totalitarism 207 Sobol, Joshua 57 Trajan 9 Sobrino, Jon (SJ) 242, 243, 245 Tresckow, Erika von 127, 128, 132, SOCA-conference (international) 226 133 n. 31, 140, 140 n. 36 Social Darwinism, social Tresckow, Henning von 119 ff, 120, darvinistic 179, 180, 184 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, Social Democratic Party 90, 92 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 134, 134 socialism 94 n. 33, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, socialistic well-fare state 89 141, 279, 281 society 21 Tresckow, Mark von 121 n. 4 soldiers, German 75 Tresckow, Rüdiger von 121 n. 4 solitary 78 Tresckow, Uta von, see Aretin, Uta von Sonnenstein 182, 184 Truth and Reconciliation Commission Sørensen, Arne 87, 96, 98 n. 10, 117 (TRC) 261, 263, 271, 272, 273 South African Council of Túróczy, Zoltán, bishop 222, 222 n. Churches 261, 263 30, 223, 224, 225 sovereign 21 Tutu, Desmond 261 ff, 279, 281 Spanish Civil War 208 Tyrannicide 13, 13 n. 9, 14 Spanish Roman Catholic Church tyranny (defi nition of ) 21 208 tyrant(s) 13, 15, 278 Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola 235, 257 Ubuntu 262, 265, 267 SS (Schutzstaffel) 120, 125, 134 Unchristian 151 St. Radegund 55 Union of Rural Workers (UTC) 239 stability 7 United Churches 189 Stalin 89 United Nations (UN) 233 State Offi ce for Church Affairs universal devine amnesty 204 (SOCA) 219 Universal Troublemakers, see Alverdens State Theology 39 Urostifterne state 12, 39 University of Louvain 251 state-church 11 unnütze Esser 180 Stauffenberg, Claus Schenk Count unworthy of life 197 von 119, 126, 127, 131, 134 n. 33, Upper Austria 55 135, 139 USA 240, 252 Stauning 91, 92, 93 useless eaters 180, 187, 197, 201 steadiness 15 useless lives 180 290 index

Valerianus 10 Wehrmacht see German Armed Valkyrie 126 Forces 120 Vatican Council 71 Wested, Martinus 90 Vatican II (Second Vatican Council) Winkler, Johann 86, 117 235 Wirkungsgeschichte 81 Vatican 81, 251, 254 Witzleben, Erwin von 123 Vedersø 87 Wolf, Artur 206 Veteran 75 Wolf, Lajos, (see also Ordass, Lajos) Vetö, Lajos, bishop 225, 227, 228 204, 204 n. 1, 205, 206, 207, 208, Vicar and The Student, The 92 209, 210 Victory, The 107, 108 Word, The 81, 103 Vierteljahrshefte für World Council of Churches (WCC) Zeitgeschichte 120, 136, 137 214, 225, 228, 231, 261, 263, violence, violent 30, 44, 247, 248, 249, 264 256, 277 worldviews 18 violence, non-, violent, non- 30, 44, Wurm, Theophil 189 47, 48, 49, 248 YSAX (episcopal radio station) 241, Walther, Gretel 178 250, 257 “War of extermination” (exhibition) 134 Zedlitz-Trützschler, Robert von 121 war of aggression 13 n. 3 Wartenburg, Peter Yorck von 141 Zeuthen, Mogens 83, 104