Author Archives: John S. Conway

July/August 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- July/August 2001- Vol. VII, no. 7-8
 

Dear Friends,

I hope that all in the northern hemisphere are now enjoying their summer holidays with appropriate sunny conditions. But I send you this dual issue in case you have time or desire to consider these rather interesting new books on different aspects of our subject.

1) Book reviews:

a) K.Clements, Faith on the frontier. A life of J.H.Oldham
b) J.Pollard, The Unknown Pope. Benedict XV
c) ed. K.Chadwick, Catholicism, Politics and Society in 20C France, R.Bedarida, Les Catholiques dans la guerre 1939-1945

1) K.Clements, Faith on the Frontier. A life of J.H.Oldham. Edinburgh and Geneva: T.T. Clark and WCC Publications. 1999 515pp

Joe Oldham was one of the leading figures in the world-wide ecumenical movement of the Christian churches during the first half of the twentieth century. But he was a humble unassuming man who principally operated through behind-the-scenes diplomacy and advocacy. He is hence not so well known as such pioneers as William Temple, John R.Mott or Archbishop Söderblom with their more charismatic personalities. But now at last this masterly biography has appeared which does justice both to Oldham as a person and to his far-reaching and searching ideas on the future paths of Christianity at a time of particular travail.
The author, Keith Clements, is himself an experienced international ecumenical leader, based in Geneva as General Secretary of the European Conference of Churches, one of the many agencies now carrying out much of Oldham,s legacy. From this vantage point he brings an insider,s knowledge of the difficulties faced by the promoters of ecumenical and international Christianity. This is a first-rate scholarly biography which deserves full praise.
Oldham was born in India in 1874, but grew up in Scotland in a devout and pious family, very conscious of its Christian calling. Not surprisingly he was “converted while at Oxford after a visit by the renowned American evangelist, Dwight N.Moody, and resolved to devote his life to the burgeoning missionary movement, which drew so much inspiration from its annual meetings in Keswick. As a supporter of the Student Volunteer Missionary Union, he soon received a call to go to India, and served in Lahore for nearly four years until ill health forced him to return. He was, like so many young men in Europe and North America, fully inspired by the SVMU,s goal, as enunciated by its leader, John R.Mott, which sought the “evangelization of the world in this generation. But his experience in India taught Oldham that it was not enough to send out platoons of idealistic well-educated white males to undertake this task. The voices and interests of the recipients must also be heard and above all the disastrous divisions within the churches must be overcome. These were the themes adopted by Oldham as he returned to take up work for his church,s mission board in Edinburgh.
This city was to be the site of the first great international missionary conference in 1910, and not surprisingly Oldham was drawn into its organization. Clements shows how his resourcefulness, his high-minded energies and his skillful personal diplomacy made him the ideal person to become secretary of the whole enterprise, and subsequently of its continuation committee, in collaboration with its Chairman, Mott. Mott,s gift was to be able to inspire hundreds of young men at large rallies, and then give them their marching orders. “Young man, the Lord has need of you in Shanghai. Here is your boat ticket. Oldham was more restrained but no less effective.
For years the two men worked together in close harmony, especially after 1919 when the International Missionary Council became a permanent reality. Oldham recognized the need to have effective machinery for keeping missionaries in touch with each other and with new developments around the world. The International Review of Missions was started by Oldham in 1912 and is still going strong after 90 years. This was a successful vehicle for spreading new ideas across old frontiers, and of stimulating ecumenical contacts at a high intellectual and theological level.
But this optimistic era, looking forward to the rapid spread of the Gospel around the globe through ever wider campaigns of personal evangelism, came to a crashing halt with the outbreak of war in 1914. Clements rightly notes that Oldham, by 1916, had recognized the effect the war was having, particularly in two directions: first, that this mutually destructive European struggle had dealt an almost irreparable blow to Christian credibility in other parts of the world, and especially in the mission fields.
Secondly, it revealed the deficiencies of a limited appeal for personal salvation. From then on, Oldham began to call for the need to Christianize the social order as well as individuals in it. Christendom and its churches would have to adopt a much less triumphalist tone. He began to point prophetically to the need to mobilize a new moral passion sufficient to restore a broken world. To be sure, the traditional Protestant insights of the missionary movement, drawn from its Puritan and Wesleyan roots, were to be reaffirmed, but the emphasis had to be on forgiveness and reconciliation in order to find a new life in Christ.
One sign of this was Oldham,s concern for the overseas missions in war-time, particularly the German establishments in areas captured by the British in Africa, as well as in India. Contrary to the propaganda spread by the German missionaries and their home boards, these “orphaned missions were not confiscated by Oldham and his gang of robbers, nor were the missionaries unduly maltreated. Clements makes quite clear that Oldham fought hard against any such tendencies in British government policy, and indeed succeeded in having included in the Versailles Treaty a specific clause exempting German mission properties from being seized for reparations. But the resentment of the Germans lingered on – even to this day – as part of their unwillingness to face the loss of a war they had largely caused. These feelings were to cause great difficulties in the whole ecumenical movement throughout the inter-war period.
In the 1920s Oldham became directly involved in strategic planning for a new approach to mission problems in Africa. But his interest went beyond mere ecclesiastical organization. He saw that the new era called for a specific change towards the native inhabitants, and one which would recognize their paramount interests. This was strongly opposed by the white settlers of South Africa, Rhodesia and Kenya, and a heated debate continued throughout the decade over imperial and colonial policy. Oldham,s concern for education, which was largely in the hands of the missions, prompted him to lobby intensely the British officials in London and in the colonies, and even to take part in an official investigating committee. Not surprisingly, this new interest was not well understood by his more conservative colleagues on the mission boards.
But in the 1930s, when the focus turned back to Europe, Odham diverged further from the traditional evangelical approach. He now saw the need for new Christian social thinking in face of the challenges of totalitarianism and racism, and the threat to Christianity in its own heartland. By this time he had been much influenced by Karl Barth,s theology, and no longer accepted the progressive liberalism of earlier years. At the same time, he placed less faith in clerical gatherings and conferences, which seemed to be too often expressions of idealism without clear goals for remedying the world,s defects. Oldham,s forte was to match expectations with effective action. He was, in Clements, view, a sanctified pragmatist who considered carefully the practical steps towards his desired end. This made him a most dynamic stimulator of action. Memoranda, proposals, preliminary studies, letters to significant leaders, conference addresses poured forth from his desk, and the impact was undoubtedly significant, even after increasing deafness made it difficult for him to communicate directly. But he never abandoned his view that the Christian cause needed to mobilize its best brains and look carefully at future strategies. Organizing such meetings and ensuring that the results were put to work was his strength.
Notably Oldham,s preparations for the Life and Work meeting in Oxford 1937 was the high point of his career. Less well-known was his inside-track participation in the moves to unite all the international ecumenical bodies in a single World Council of Churches, and particularly to recruit a young Dutchman, Visser t Hooft, to be its General Secretary. This was achieved in 1938, but the outbreak of war delayed the actual founding until a decade later.
To meet the disasters of the second world war, Oldham pioneered one of his most memorable achievements – the Christian News-letter. This was a weekly initiative to maintain the Christian fellowship in war-time, based on Oldham,s extensive network of contacts, and specifically designed to deal with the war,s mortal challenges. Any repetition of the disastrous splits in Christendom of 1914 was to be sedulously avoided. Rather, constructive practical consideration was to be given as to what kind of society Christians should seek after the war ended. Readership quickly grew among informed laymen and women throughout Britain, and even abroad. Oldham,s personal touch ensured both a continuity and a welcoming call for a new engagement of Christian thought in the contemporary and changing world.
As Clements makes clear, Oldham was not really a team player. But he had the gift of finding very talented men and women and persuading them to join in his enterprises. His influence was therefore extensive and elitist rather than popular. On the one hand, his extraordinary creative services to the whole ecumenical world led to many outstanding developments. On the other hand, his habit of asking searching and critical questions was intolerant of complacency, timidity, or introversion. He also had an ingrained suspicion of ecclesiastical structures, which he feared would inevitably be conservative and stifling of creative thought. Church conferences, he knew from experience, had a regrettable tendency to indulge in moralizing pronouncements. Others, however, saw rightly that inspired freelancing by talented individuals would not be enough to sustain ecumenical institutions for the long haul. They would need to be clearly representative of the churches and accountable to them. Oldham, like his German counterpart Friedrich Siegmund-Schultze, feared that the result would be a dull mediocrity and ecclesiastical sclerosis. For this reason, as Clements admits, Oldham proved obstructive over the setting up of a British Council of Churches, which only followed in 1942. And he kept on insisting that his finest creation, the World Council of Churches, should have clear and pioneering thinking as its first priority. His faith in Visser t Hooft, as General Secretary, was to be vindicated, although at times Vim could be far more of a general than a secretary. But Oldham lived long enough, until 1969, to see the World Council firmly established as the major international focus point for all the Christian churches, with the exception of the Roman Catholics.
Oldham,s life,s work was undertaken at a time of world-wide catastrophe, political disorder and moral collapse. The institutions he sought to build, and the Christian heritage he sought to protect, have not – as yet – fulfilled his hopes. But this account of his struggles, urging his fellow Christians to grapple with the issues involved, and the possible roads ahead, is a convincing statement of a Christian visionary contribution in an age of violence and dissension.
We can be grateful to Keith Clements for this insightful and trenchant narration of Oldham,s theological pilgrimage, his administrative strategies, his prophetic discernment and his warm personal relationships. This is also a major account of the Christian churches,developments and interactions during the twentieth century from a sympathetic but not uncritical perspective. Above all, Clements correctly places Oldham on the frontier of Christian responsibility, prophetically seeking new forms of corporate Christian witness in the face of the new challenges of each succeeding decade. This is where, Oldham believed, faith must stand if it is to live and grow. Retrieving this interpretation of Christian mission was the objective of this biography. Clements is to be congratulated on so splendidly fulfilling his goal.
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2) John F.Pollard, The Unknown Pope. Benedict XV (1914-1922) and the Pursuit of Peace. London: Geoffrey Chapman 1999 240 pp ISBN 0-225-66344-0

John Pollard calls Benedict XV the “unknown Pope mainly because his short reign was overshadowed by the First World War and its contentious aftermath, and also because later Popes, such as Pius XII and John XXII, have attracted more notice and controversy. But Pollard,s skillfully researched biography provides the English-speaking reader with a clear account of this pontiff,s career, which he sees as one of the most significant, though often overlooked, reigns of the past century. In particular, he contends that Benedict,s pursuit of peace in the midst of an unprecedented and horrific war raised the papacy to a new level of moral authority.
Giacomo Della Chiesa came from a noble but impoverished Genoa family. Thanks to various patrons he was able to be trained for the Vatican,s diplomatic service. He became a protege of Cardinal Rampolla, later Secretary of State to Pope Leo XIII. But in 1903, on Leo,s death, Rampolla failed to be elected Pope, and so he and his protege suffered an eclipse at the hands of the more “integrist Pius X and his much younger Secretary of State, Merry del Val. Eventually Della Chiesa was sent off to the provinces to be Archbishop of Bologna, but was denied promotion to the rank of Cardinal for seven years until the spring of 1914.
On August 1st 1914 war erupted across Europe. Less than a month later Pius X died. In the subsequent conclave, the Cardinals were clearly looking for someone in a different mould. Della Chiesa had the right combination of diplomatic, curial and pastoral experience. At 60, he was the right age, and had enough discretion to recognize how crucial his future policy would be for the welfare, or even existence, of the Church.
Pollard makes the claim that in 1914 the Vatican had reached the nadir of its international prestige. France had recently disestablished the Church, Britain and Germany were controlled by anti-Catholic leaders, and Russia brooded in distant hostility. The new nation of Italy was militantly anti-Papal. Only Austria with its aged Emperor supported the Holy See, but its involvement in the Balkans was to prove a self-inflicted and lethal wound.
With the 1914 outbreak of war, the situation changed. Pollard places much emphasis, as his sub-title suggests, on Benedict,s efforts to promote peace. He also skillfully outlines the parameters within which the Vatican was operating and the numerous frustrations which these constraints caused. In reality, the Holy See possessed little real power or influence, but it was presumed to have immense potential moral force. Hence both warring sides exerted themselves to attempt to win the Vatican over to their cause, or equally strenuously to prevent the other side from doing so. Benedict,s initial horror at the bloodshed and the losses inflicted on the Catholic populations impelled him to seeks ways and means to stop the hostilities, or at least to mitigate the results. Such a stand necessitated impartiality, and also led to large expenditures to assist the victims of the war without favour to either side.
Benedict,s strenuous efforts to hinder Italy from joining in were thwarted in 1915. Worse still, he found the Italian government continuously opposed to his humanitarian gestures, putting practical difficulties in the way of many of his initiatives. Such a situation revealed how much the Pope was a prisoner within the Vatican,s walls and at the mercy of Italy,s anti-clerical and Masonic politicians. As an example, the Italian High Command and censorship office broke all the, admittedly primitive, Vatican codes and intercepted its telegraph traffic. The security of the Vatican,s diplomatic mail was constantly violated. The Italian police were effectively spying on the Pope and Curia without hindrance. The unkindest cut of all came when the Italian government negotiated with the western powers to join the war in 1915, and deliberately included in their secret treaty the demand that the Holy See should be barred from taking part in any peace settlement once the war was won. Benedict only found out about this later to his great chagrin.
Benedict, and his closest advisor Cardinal Gasparri, were under tremendous pressure to move away from their impartial stance. Every move, every speech was scrutinized to see if it gave advantage to either side. Journalists constantly launched rumours of this or that piece of favouritism. This led to a spate of denials, and at times brought out in Benedict his obstinacy, his notorious irascibility and not a little paranoia. Nevertheless he was determined not to give up. Too much was at stake for the Catholic Church. By 1916 he realized that general moral exhortations for peace would achieve nothing. But he still believed that, as a neutral power, the Vatican,s influence could be effective at a time when both sides wanted to bring hostilities to a close. Such was the case in 1917. In Germany, a strong group of Reichstag members, led by the Catholic politician, Matthias Erzberger, passed a peace resolution in July. This seemed to offer possibilities, and the Vatican envoy to Germany, Eugenio Pacelli, was sent to explore with the Kaiser and his Chancellor, Bethman-Hollweg, what terms might be feasible, such as a general limitation of armaments, the German withdrawal from Belgium and other occupied areas, and the creation of international arbitration courts. Accordingly in August Benedict sent out a Peace Note to all the belligerent powers, setting out systematic proposals for bringing the war to an end and securing a just and enduring peace.
Unfortunately, at that very moment, Bethman-Hollweg was overthrown by the German army leaders, who were still fixated on a German military victory. Even the western powers showed reluctance. The British Government acknowledged receipt of the Note, but did nothing. The French never replied at all. And the Italians intrigued hard to prevent the Vatican from getting any increase in international prestige and profile. President Wilson usurped many of the Papal ideas in order to incorporate them in his own 14 Points a few months later. The Papal initiative failed.
Nevertheless, these attempts, and the large-scale humanitarian efforts launched by the Vatican, induced a much more open and friendly climate towards the Holy See, even in the ranks of the Italian government. To be sure, the Vatican was barred from taking part in the Versailles peace-making, but Pollard judges this to have been a disguised blessing, as the Holy See was therefore not burdened by having to defend this much-vilified Treaty. So too, Benedict was not able to find any solution to the vexed question of the Vatican,s own status in Italy, which was left to his successor, Pius XI, to solve.
More successful were Benedict,s efforts to alter the tone of theological debate within his own ranks. The intolerant dogmatism of his predecessor, Pius X, with its strident invectives and condemnations of anyone suspected of the so-called Modernist “heresy, had done much damage in the supposed interests of “integrisme. While not prepared to disavow the hierarchy,s stance, Benedict moved to eject zealots from sensitive positions.
But from the end of the war, it was political rather than theological radicalism which seemed to be the greater danger. All of Benedict,s conservative instincts were predictably brought into play against the spread of militant violence or disorder. The kind of bitter class warfare seen in the Soviet Union, Hungary and Germany, boded ill for the Church, as did also the unbridled agitation of more domestic foes such as Benito Mussolini. The rise of Fascism in Italy was constantly deplored by the Vatican, even when the alternative of a Socialist victory looked worse. In fact, when Mussolini eventually seized power, he wisely recognized the need for a more harmonious relationship with the Church. But Benedict did not live to see this development. As for the Vatican, it was to swallow the stifling of Italian democracy for the sake of a new and more stable settlement of its future international position.
Benedict,s conservatism, as Pollard points out, was equally displayed in his antagonism towards both Protestantism and Orthodoxy. Although the war had demonstrated the urgency of all Christians standing together, Rome remained implacable. Error had no rights. The post-war ecumenical movement was therefore built without Catholics. Yet it can be argued that what the Catholic Church needed was consolidation not experimentation. This is what Benedict in his short reign provided. And Pollard,s final verdict is surely correct: “He steered the barque of St. Peter through some very stormy waters. . . and in the process left his enduring mark on the Roman Catholic Church (p.215). We can certainly be grateful to John Pollard for this comprehensive and sympathetic account.
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3) ed K.Chadwick,Catholicism, Politics and Society in Twentieth-Century France. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press 2000 295pp
Renee Bedarida, Les Catholiques dans la guerre 1939-1945. Entre Vichy et la Resistance.
Paris: Hachette litteratures, 1998

In recent years the writing of French church history has been very much an “in-house affair. Foreigners were not encouraged. The only significant work in English was W.D.Halls, Politics, Society and Christianity in Vichy France, (1995). So the appearance of this volume from Liverpool is much to be welcomed. Under the editorship of Kay Chadwick, this collection of essays is both bi-lingual and bi-national, where senior French scholars such as Emile Poulat and Y-M.Hilaire are joined by younger British scholars, mostly from the provincial universities. The title is clearly derivative from Halls, study, but covers the whole of the twentieth century. There is a variety of interesting perspectives on the position of the Catholic Church over this period, though the Church,s theology is virtually ignored, as is any treatment of Protestantism.
The century began with the controversial disestablishment of the Catholic Church in 1905. With the advantage of hindsight, Professor Poulat now argues that this can be seen as a beneficial move, by liberating the church from the state,s bondage. But at the time and for many years after, the imposition of this move at the hands of radical anti-clericals seemed to be a bitter blow. Hence the eagerness with which numerous Catholics greeted the overthrow of republicanism in 1940, and espoused the hopes for a better deal under Petain. But in fact, over the past fifty years, republicanism has shown a more moderate face, and the secular nature of the state is now assured. Catholic schooling plays a very considerable role, as an example of pluralism. There are even moves to urge Islam to follow the Catholic path as a means of integration within the French state.
The 1905 loss of status was undoubtedly induced, in part, by the reactionary stance of most Catholics in the Dreyfus affair. The rootedness of Catholic antisemitism cannot be denied. But as two of these essays show, attitudes have changed. To be sure, the stance of the Catholic hierarchy in face of the German war-time persecution of the Jews looks vacillating, but at least some bishops and several courageous priests and lay persons raised voices of protest to defy both Vichy and the Nazis. This paved the way for a new epoch of Christian-Jewish dialogue, led by such figures as Jules Isaac and Jacques Maritain. Though antisemitism and racialism still exist in France, such forces have no religious support from Catholics.
Another significant change over the years has been in the political stance of French Catholics. At first the polemical attacks of the republican left prevented any political sympathy from Catholics, and entrenched the right-wing attitudes of such groups as Action francaise or the Croix de Fer. After 1945, however, the scene changed. A new openness to at least some dialogue with Marxists showed that some Catholics were interested to have a potential stimulus to Catholic social thought or alternatives to capitalism. And this paved the way for a much more committed stance towards issues of social justice. Even though the experiment of worker priests was abandoned, the impact remained.
On the other hand, the rigidity of Catholic doctrine, especially on sexual matters, has undoubtedly contributed to Catholicism,s institutional decline in France. The majority of priests are elderly, more parishes are “orphaned and monastic life has suffered badly. In part, this is a reflection of the European-wide growth of a secular culture, but does not necessarily mean a loss of faith. France now has a multi-cultural appearance, in which French Catholicism appears in many guises.
Renee Bedarida and her husband Francois are among the most distinguished practitioners of French contemporary history, especially of that period of national tragedy, the Second World War and the ill-fated Vichy regime. Madame Bedarida has already written extensively on the spiritual resistance to the Nazi onslaught of those years, arising out of her own participation as a student in the resistance movement. Not surprisingly, therefore, in her sprightly survey of the fate of French Catholics during the war, those men and women who upheld their true Christian faith, alongside their French nationalism, occupy a place of honour. Following a chronological basis, Bedarida depicts the attitudes of the Catholic literate elite, from its troubled and ambiguous relationship to the anti-clerical secularist Third Republic before the war to the heartfelt patriotic response of 1939. But the 1940 defeat proved that patriotism was not enough. In its place, the Catholic hierarchy preferred to place their faith in Marshal Petain as the saviour of the nation. The majority of Catholics loyally followed this lead, though, as Bedarida shows, only a handful of Catholic intellectuals were seduced into giving their support. By contrast, those who for Christian reasons opposed Nazism were increasingly sceptical of Petain and his compromises with the conqueror. But de Gaulle, in London, never got any support from the church hierarchy. Several Catholic writers and other resisters expressed their opposition in clandestine publications, and when caught, paid the ultimate price. Others retreated to less obvious, but no less determined passive resistance, concentrating on assisting the Nazis, victims, such as the Jews. If, at first, French Catholics had been silent about the Nazi persecution of the Jews, this changed in 1942. In August and September, no fewer than five bishops protested publicly against the inhuman mistreatment of the Jews in France, and this signal produced a wave of support, much to the consternation of the Vichy authorities. Despite continued assertions of the clergy,s respect for Petain, these protests were the first breach of Catholic loyalty. Even more striking in 1943 was the response to Vichy,s ordering young Frenchmen to be conscripted for work in German factories. The bishops prevaricated, though they were much more vocal in protesting the idea of recruiting young French women. But only the underground press urged these recruits, as a Christian duty, to join the secret resistance movement instead. Those who took this step of joining the underground, or Maquis, were not given the support of the Catholics bishops, though a few clergy risked their lives by acting as chaplains. The moral dilemmas caused by the threat of civil war, and the fears of communism, restrained the church leaders from openly endorsing the resistance, but in fact the number of young Catholics who did so grew rapidly, and their witness was to be a significant factor in the post-war renewal of the church.
In the aftermath, recriminations and accusations abounded. The thorniest question for Catholics was what to do with those bishops who had so enthusiastically endorsed the Petain regime. Some demanded that at least twenty-five bishops be dismissed; others would have been content with an acknowledgment of their faulty judgment and an expression of repentance. In fact the hierarchy gave neither. It insisted that it had only done its religious duty in seeking to uphold the Christian faith and to safeguard the church,s autonomy. They now preached reconciliation and rebirth. And, in fact, the Vatican refused to hear of any forcible removals, but quickly appointed a new Nuncio, the future Pope John XXIII, to act as mediator.
In all, Bedarida stresses the positive impact of the war on the Catholic church in France. For the first time, barriers between Catholics and others were broken down. In captivity or deportation or concentration camps, the clergy and laity were thrown together to their mutual enrichment. As a result Catholics were willing to play a more constructive role in the new political order, and their spiritual renewal brought new life to the parishes. To be sure the old habits of mind were still found in some of the hierarchy, who still clung to their traditional conservative and moralistic mentalities. But, Bedarida claims, this clash between temporal political conformism and audacious creativity in the spiritual and pastoral spheres opened the way for the kind of reforms, which twenty years later, were to be adopted by the whole Church,s aggiornamento at the Second Vatican Council.

With every best wish to you all,
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

 

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June 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- June 2001- Vol. VII, no. 6
 

Contents:

1) German Catholic Martyrs of the Twentieth Century
2) Book review: a) Feldkamp, Pius XII und Deutschland
b) Allen, Cardinal Ratzinger
3) Declaration on Christian-Jewish Relations, Cardinal Ratzinger
4) Nuncio Roncalli’s efforts on behalf of the Jews

Dear Friends,
I am deeply indebted to my longtime friend Prof. John S. Conway, for
the opportunity to edit this issue of the Newsletter – the fruit of his
dedication and hard work over many years. It is devoted to Catholic
themes, previous issues having dealt extensively with Protestant ones.
In the forefront of current debate about twentieth-century Catholic
history is the controversy over the role of Pope Pius XII during the
Holocaust. The Pope’s severest critics today are Catholics: Gary Wills,
John Cornwell, James Carroll – an essayist, a journalist, and a novelist
respectively; and the historians, Susan Zuccotti and Michael Phayer.
Evident in their writings is a common agenda: discrediting papal
authority in the hope of influencing the selection of a more “liberal”
pontiff in the next papal election.
Prominent among the Pope’s defenders is the American rabbi, David L.
Dalin. At the end of a 4000-word article in the Feb. 26, 2001 issue of
“The Weekly Standard,” Dalin cites the Talmudic dictum: “Whosoever
preserves one life, it is accounted to him by Scripture as if he had
preserved a whole world.” Dalin comments: “More than any other
twentieth-century leader, Pius fulfilled this Talmudic dictum, when the
fate of European Jewry was at stake. No other pope had been so widely
praised by Jews – and they were not mistaken. Their gratitude, as well
as that of the entire generation of Holocaust survivors, testifies that
Pius XII was, genuinely and profoundly, a righteous gentile.”
“For Jewish leaders of a previous generation,” Rabbi Dalin writes, “the
[current] campaign against Pius XII would have been a source of shock.”
What caused this radical shift of opinion? Rolf Hochhuth’s play, “The
Deputy,” first performed in 1963, was the occasion, though not the
cause. The play appeared just as the rebellion against authority was
getting underway in Western democracies. The demonization of an
authority figure revered by millions was welcome to an age proclaiming
the death of God and rejecting the pretensions of those claiming to
speak in his name. It is equally welcome today to those who hold there
is no such thing as truth, only different opinions.
Among historians a consensus about the most extreme charges against Pius XII
appears to be forming. Whatever missed opportunities in
papal policy we can identify over a half-century later, Pius XII was
neither “Hitler’s Pope” nor an anti-Semite. At the recent debate
between Ronald Rychlak and Susan Zuccotti at Trinity College, Hartford,
all the Pope’s critics explicitly rejected both charges. That they
continue to be trumpeted by the media reflects a phenomenon observable
throughout history: the public’s appetite for sensation and scandal.

I can e-mail Rabbi Dalin’s article to anyone who requests it. Dalin is
at work on a book which will expand his findings.

John Jay Hughes,
Archdiocese of St Louis, Missouri, USA
jaystl@swbell.net

1) “Witnesses for Christ”
In his 1994 apostolic letter Tertio Millennio Adveniente Pope John Paul
II, after recalling the martyrs of the first millennium, wrote: “In our
century the martyrs have returned, many of them nameless ‘unknown
soldiers’ as it were of God’s great cause. As far as possible, their
witness should not be lost to the church. … The local churches should
do everything possible to ensure that the memory of those who have
suffered martyrdom should be safeguarded, gathering the necessary
documentation.” (37)
No local church has fulfilled the Pope’s wish as fully as that in
Germany. Two massive volumes in German, with a combined weight of 8
pounds, were published last year recording, in meticulous detail, the
stories of some 700 German Catholics of both sexes who, in the century
just closed, suffered violent deaths out of hatred for the faith: under
Nazism and Communism, in mission countries, and while resisting rape
(“martyrs of purity”) or defending its victims. The number of these
“witnesses for Christ” (the book’s title) is “far more than we initially
supposed,” writes the Bishop of Mainz and President of the German
Bishops’ Conference Karl Lehmann in a Foreword..
Criteria for inclusion are taken from those established by the learned
canonist Prospero Lambertini and later Pope Benedict XIV (1740-1758) for
the canonization of martyrs: a violent death, motivated by hatred of the
church and the faith, and willing acceptance of God’s will despite
mortal danger. No one is included whose death did not with certainty
satisfy all three conditions.
Writing of the martyrs in the Nazi period, the editor says: “The
church points with pride to its martyrs not in order to cover up its
failures, but out of gratitude.” More than 160 diocesan priests and
almost 60 male religious were martyred by the Nazis. There were also
110 lay martyrs of both sexes: among them a 17-year-old apprentice, and
two 19-year-olds, one a female convert from Judaism. The oldest lay
martyrs were 73 and 74 respectively. Women comprised 14 percent of the
total, many of them highly educated people in prominent positions or
persons of Jewish origin. “It is certain that there were many times
more than we were able to find,” the editor writes. He also pays
tribute to the many non-Catholic martyrs, part of the 12,000
commemorated by Pope John Paul II at an “Ecumenical Commemoration of
Twentieth Century Witnesses to the Faith” in Rome’s Colosseum on 7 May
2000.
The list of communism’s victims, starting in 1917 – a laywoman and 108
priests including 5 bishops and an abbot – consists mostly of
“Volksdeutsche”: ethnic Germans settled for generations in the Balkans
or Russia. This category also includes more than 60 “martyrs of
purity,” most of them religious Sisters (the oldest 93 and 88
respectively) but many laywomen as well. Of the 18 killed while trying
to defend victims of rape, 13 were priests, 2 religious Sisters. The
list of over 170 missionary martyrs begins in Papua New Guinea in 1904
and ends in Zimbabwe in 1988. Herewith a look at a few of the martyrs
under Nazism.
Army Lieutenant Michael Kitzelmann, age 26, was shot on the Russian
front in 1942 for writing in a letter: “At home they banish the
crucifixes from the schools, while here they tell us we’re fighting
against godless communism.” Before his execution he forgave the
sergeant who had denounced him. His farewell letter to his loved ones
said the Catholic chaplain had just visited him: “God has granted me
the grace of a holy death. I go ahead of you to our heavenly homeland.
Divine Redeemer, grant me a merciful judgment when I come to you.
Praised be Jesus Christ!”
The university student Robert Limpert, deeply religious and an open
critic of the Nazis, distributed fliers demanding that his home town of
Ansbach be declared an open city. On 18 April 1945, with American
troops already on the town’s outskirts, the local Nazi commander
personally hanged Limpert on the wall of the city hall. American troops
cut down the body four hours later. His memorial tablet bears the
inscription: “Executed for resistance to the Third Reich on 18 April
1945, aged 19.”
In Regensburg the 38-year-old diocesan priest and Cathedral Preacher,
Dr. Johann Baptist Maier, spoke in the late afternoon of 23 April 1945
at a demonstration by hundreds of citizens demanding that the city be
surrendered to the American troops, then only 20 km away. When the
protest threatened to get out of hand, Maier admonished the crowd to
respect constituted authority. As he started to give the reasons for
declaring Regensburg an open city, he was arrested. A hastily assembled
court martial condemned him to death as a “saboteur” hours later. He
was hanged on the site of the demonstration before dawn the next day.
Hanged with him was the 74-year-old pensioner, Josef Zirkl, a staunch
opponent of the Nazis. His crime: protesting the priest’s arrest. The
46-year-old policeman Michael Lottner, retired due to a service-related
injury, also protested and was shot while defending himself from
beating. His body was laid beneath the gallows on which Maier and Zirkl
were hanged. The American troops entered Regensburg three days later
without a fight. Maier’s tomb in the Regensburg Cathedral bears the
inscription: “He gave his life for the preservation of Regensburg. …
His tongue is silenced, but his deed and his death continue to preach.”
The 22-year-old university student Eva-Maria Buch was beheaded in
Berlin on August 5, 1943 for distributing fliers to imprisoned French
workers in munition factories warning that their compatriots could be
killed by the fruits of their labor. The priest who gave Buch communion
before her execution marveled at her cheerfulness throughout her long
imprisonment and right up to her death.
Executed with Buch were 12 more women and 3 men from her resistance
group, one of them a Catholic: the 33-year-old Maria Terwiel, who
smuggled food and ration cards to Jews and in 1941 distributed copies of
the celebrated anti-Nazi sermons of Bishop von Galen of Münster.
The 28-year-old Army Lieutenant Alfons Zurawski was beheaded on October
6, 1942 for fraternizing with Polish forced laborers, and giving food to
starving Polish prisoners of war. His farewell letter said that the
sacraments he had just received “made my final hours some of the most
beautiful of my whole life.”
Mingled with these and hundreds of others who died in obscurity, and
would remain there but for this work, are the better known victims. The
lay Catholic Action leader Dr. Erich Klausener, was shot at his desk in
Berlin on June 30, 1934 as a “dangerous Catholic leader.” Blessed Karl
Leisner, secretly ordained priest on the Third Sunday in Advent 1944 in
the Dachau concentration camp by the imprisoned French bishop of
Clermont-Ferrand (outfitted by his fellow prisoners with the full
pontifical regalia!), died nine months later of illness contracted
during his imprisonment. His First Mass was also his last. Blessed
Bernard Lichtenberg, Provost of the Berlin Cathedral, was imprisoned for
praying publicly for “the sorely tried non-Aryan Christians, the Jews,
those in concentration camps, the victims of bombing and war on both
sides …” He died of maltreatment on the way to the Dachau on 5
November 1943, aged 68. Fr. Alfred Delp, one of seven Jesuits martyred
by the Nazis, was hanged in Berlin on February 2, 1945, for his
participation in the Kreisau Circle, a group of aristocrats and
intellectuals who met to plan a better Germany after Hitler’s defeat.
The infamous Nazi judge Roland Freisler (later killed in a bomb attack)
said at Delp’s trial: “National Socialism and Christianity have one
thing in common: we both demand the whole man.”
These victims of Hitler were not more heroic that their fellow
martyrs. But their stories are worth recounting today. One cannot read
their biographies, and especially the farewell letters, without being
moved. One wonders whether they will ever be seen by the tenured
academics and well paid journalists who today make careers, and money,
claiming that in Germany’s darkest hour, nothing was done (or at best
pathetically little) to resist the forces of evil.
JJH

2a) Michael F. Feldkamp, “Pius XII. und Deutschland.” (Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. 236 p. DM 29,80)
Amid the flood of books defaming Pope Pius XII, and the occasional
defense of the pontiff, it is a pleasure to come upon the work of a
serious historian more interested in honestly examining the historical
record than in advancing a point of view. Michael Feldkamp is a young
historian (born 1962) in Berlin, author of several scholarly works about
relations between Germany and the Holy See from World War I onwards, and
editor of post-World War II documents of the German Foreign Office and
Bundestag. In this brief work, published in paperback, he shows
intimate familiarity with the primary sources and secondary literature
in German, Italian, French, and English.
The contrast between objective scholarship and advocacy is evident when
one compares Feldkamp’s treatment of Pacelli’s dealings with a German
rabbi in 1917 with the portrayal of this incident by John Cornwell in
“Hitler’s Pope”. In September of that year Pacelli, then nuncio to
Bavaria, received a letter from the Munich rabbi Dr. Mose Cossmann
Werner, asking help in getting the Italian customs authorities to
release some palm fronds to be used at the coming Jewish feast of
Tabernacles. Due to wartime export restrictions the palms had been held
up in the railway station at Como. Pacelli passed on the request to
Cardinal Gasparri, his superior in Rome, informing him that he had told
the rabbi that since the Holy See had no diplomatic relations with
Italy, a favorable response by the Italian authorities was unlikely in
the few weeks before the Jewish feast. Pacelli’s letter to Gasparri
also pointed out that the rabbi was asking assistance not merely in a
matter which involved civil rights but cooperation in the celebration of
non-Catholic religious rites – then forbidden by canon law
(“communicatio in sacris”). Gasparri replied that the Holy See could
not act, because of the lack of diplomatic relations with Italy. When
Pacelli explained this to the rabbi, the latter “thanked me warmly for
all that I had done on his behalf.”
Calling this “a diplomatic sleight of hand,” Cornwell says that
Pacelli’s letter to Gasparri “has lain buried in the files of the
Secretary of State until now” – while disclosing in a footnote that he
quotes it from a book published in 1956. Cornwell comments: “Pacelli
rejected a poignant plea of his Jewish brethren that might have brought
spiritual spiritual consolation to many thousands.” He uses the
incident as evidence of Pacelli’s alleged antisemitism. Feldkamp says
that the incident shows that Pacelli “remained a child of his times
unable, even as nuncio, to set himself above canon law.” The fact that
this canonical prohibition has been abrogated long since “affords no
basis for using Pacelli’s actions, which according to the law at that
time were formally correct, as evidence of latent antisemitism.”
Feldkamp devotes a chapter to each of the four periods of Eugenio Pacelli’s
relations with Germany: his work as nuncio, first in Munich then in Berlin
(1917-1929); his activity as papal Secretary of State (1930-39); his role as wartime
pope; and his post-war efforts to restore Germany to a place in the family of
nations. Non-German readers will be especially interested in the chapter
about Pius XII’s wartime role. The pope’s alleged “silence” (Feldkamp
places the word in quotation marks) “was due neither to concern for his
personal safety, nor the desire to maintain strict neutrality in order
to preserve his chance of being a future peacemaker. The pope’s policy
arose from his judgment that a public protest would not only fail to
deter the Nazis, but would provoke even greater atrocities. … The
pope’s decision to remain ‘silent’ cost him dearly.” By limiting
himself to private protests, while initiating rescue efforts behind the
scenes, Pius XII was able “to save thousands of lives.” Moreover,
Feldkamp writes, one must ask how free the wartime pope was to exercise
his office, living as he did in his tiny territory dependent on Hitler’s
ally Mussolini for such basic necessities as food, water, and
electricity – and with the constant threat of kidnapping. Hitler
actually ordered this on Sept. 12, 1943, but was talked out of it by
subordinates.
Feldkamp’s sober narration of the roundup of Roman Jews on October
16,1943, refutes the account given by Susan Zuccotti in “Under his Very
Windows”. Vigorous behind-the-scenes papal protests, unpublicized
because the German ambassador to the Holy See von Weiszäcker warned that
this was the only way to help the victims, resulted in “the deportation
to Auschwitz of somewhat more than 1,000 Jews rather than the 8,000
ordered [by Hitler]. Some 200,000 Italians, many Jews among them, were
hidden in more than 200 extra-territorial religious houses during the
months-long German occupation of Rome. Vatican sponsored organizations
enabled more Jews to emigrate. In addition, during the closing years of
the war the Vatican distributed thousands of passports from the
Argentine and Brazilian governments, and from the Swiss Red Cross.”
Feldkamp’s final chapter is entitled; “Controversy about the Pope’s
‘Silence’.” After narrating the course of the controversy to date,
Feldkamp writes: “The question separating Pius XII’s accusers and
defenders in the future will continue to be whether he should have done
more to publicize his moral condemnation [of Nazi atrocities]; or
whether his exercise of ethical responsibility enabled him to save more
lives. Pius XII chose what he considered the realistic course and left
the door open to negotiation. Nonetheless, he was not silent, as we
have shown. On the contrary, he steadfastly proclaimed Catholic
teaching.”
The same people who today condemn Pius XII for his wartime
“silence”, Feldkamp writes in his concluding paragraph, demand that his
present successor remain silent about other moral questions:
contraception, artificial insemination, and abortion. Feldkamp cites
John Conway’s judgment that making Pius XII responsible for the
Holocaust “ill serves both the victims and the full truth about the
human capacity to act against humanity’s fundamental laws.”
Scapegoating Pius XII, Feldkamp concludes, diverts attention from those
primarily responsible for the Holocaust: the Nazis and those who
cooperated with them.
JJH

2b) John L. Allen, Jr. “Cardinal Ratzinger: The Vatican’s Enforcer of
Faith” (New York: Continuum, 2000. xii + 340 pp. $24.95)
[The review which follows is by John A. Komonchak, holder of the John
C. and Gertrude P. Hubbard Chair of Religious Studies at the Catholic
University of America. A “centrist” theologian in today’s Catholic
theological spectrum, he is the co-editor of the multi-volume
English-language edition of “The History of Vatican II.” The review,
originally published in the Nov. 3, 2000 issue of the lay-edited and
left- leaning American Catholic bi-weekly “Commonweal,” is included
here with permission.]

A French priest got into trouble during the anti-modernist repression
of the early 1900s when he suggested a radical reform of the Roman Curia
that would reduce it to two offices, one congregation for the defense of
the faith and another to defend Catholics against the actions of the
first congregation. One can sympathize, particularly when the
Congregation for the Doctrine of the faith (CDF) is making unprecedented
claims to near-sovereign authority to deal with a host of problems in
the church today.
Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger once said that the CDF has the sadly
necessary duty of dealing with “the pathology of faith.” Under his
leadership it appears to have found a good deal of illness, and in
recent years it has been more noted for its warnings and punishments
than for the positive promotion of doctrine that Pope Paul VI proposed
as its chief purpose when at the close of Vatican II he set out new
norms for what until then had been called the Holy Office. These
actions have made the Cardinal the target not only of criticism but of
downright vilification.
John L. Allen tells us in his preface that he was startled by such
actions because they ran counter to the Vatican II Catholicism in which
he, born in 1965, had been raised. He set out to find out what might
have led Joseph Ratzinger, one of the progressive theologians at the
Council, to the series of positions he has expressed both in private
speeches and articles and in the official actions of his office. Allen
wanted his book to avoid the polarization in the contemporary church
that he nicely describes: “Neither side is willing to spend the
intellectual effort to deeply understand the concerns that drive their
opponents, the arguments that have led them to the conclusions they
hold, the alternatives they have considered and rejected.” Rome bureau
chief for the “National Catholic Reporter,” he presumably counts himself
among those journalists who he says, with greater confidence than many
can muster, “instinctively seek ‘all sides’ of a discussion.”
Unfortunately, Allen seems to think that there are only two sides on
most of the issues he raises, and he finds Cardinal Ratzinger regularly
on the wrong one. In his preface he has a few lines about Ratzinger’s
personal kindness and sincerity and near the end of the book almost
three pages on four points on which he thinks the Cardinal worth
listening to. But Allen sees himself as a product and representative of
what he calls, with a reference to Michael Harrington’s famous book,
“the other Catholicism,” inspired and shaped by Vatican II, the
“evolving, socially engaged, compassionate Catholicism that was the
incubator of my faith” and that he thinks Ratzinger is trying to curb.
He contrasts Catholic “reformers” to “restorationists: and to a
“traditionalist camp” in which he includes Ratzinger and Hans Urs von
Balthasar. Theologians are divided into “a minority reflexively loyal
to Rome” and a majority “who are instinctively suspicious of church
authority.” There hardly ever appears to be, in any of these contrasts,
a middle ground.
The same over-simplifying framework controls Allen’s detailed treatment
of Roman actions with regard to liberation theology, women and
homosexuals, ecumenism and interreligious dialogue, and moral theology.
Because the issues at stake are most often presented in either-or terms
and the points at debate are reviewed with little depth or nuance, the
drama of the confrontations is reduced to a series of power plays by an
“enforcer” and the consequences are described hyperbolically. The end
of one chapter will give a sense of the whole treatment: “Like
Ratinzger’s crusades against liberation theology, feminism, and gay
rights, the pall that he has cast over ecumenism and interreligious
dialogue has had consequences beyond the borders of academic theology.
It has contributed to making the world a more fractured, and therefore a
more dangerous place.”
These descriptions are preceded by chapters in which Allen reviews
Ratzinger’s youth under Hitler’s regime, from which he believes the
Cardinal has not yet learned all the lessons (“Having seen fascism in
action, Ratzinger today believes that the best antidote to political
totalitarianism is ecclesial totalitarianism.”), superficially discusses
the chief theological influences on his thought, explores his role at
Vatican II, his disappointment at the Council’s aftermath, and what
Allen considers the decisive experience of student unrest at the
University of Tübingen in 1968, selectively reviews three of his major
works, and rapidly describes his brief term as Archbishop of Munich
before he was appointed head of the CDF. Much useful information can be
found here, but the treatment is very uneven, inadequately documented,
and marred by historical and bibliographical mistakes.
The most convincing section offers evidence that, contrary to the
Cardinal’s repeated claim, his views on a number of important issues
(collegiality, episcopal conferences, tradition, liturgy, ecumenism,
divorce and remarriage) have changed over the decades. Allen finds
continuity, however, in an enduring Augustinian counterpoising of church
and culture. There is something to this, and its roots lie in an
anthropology and epistemology that profoundly shape the fashion and the
terms in which Ratzinger spontaneously frames an issue. Had this
theological key been explored at greater length and with greater
subtlety, Allen might have been more successful in situating Ratzinger
within the history and variety of twentieth-century Catholic theology
and in analyzing the tensions that divide Catholics. Instead he is
content with the kind of Manichean journalism from which Catholics
suffer so much today.
This is too bad because we could use a good analysis and critique of
the thought and actions of a man who has played so powerful a role in
the church over the last twenty years. Ratzinger’s theology, early and
late, fits within a trajectory of Catholic thought which was one of the
paths of renewal which made Vatican II possible. It was not the only
one, of course, and a much-neglected dynamic of Vatican II was tension
among various groups within the majority. Latent when they had the
common goal of getting rid of the official texts prepared for the
Council, these differences began to be expressed in the last two
sessions of the Council and are visible in the final texts. When the
Council was followed by some developments in the church that few if any
had anticipated, the tensions became divisions and their representatives
now vie over how to interpret Vatican II both as a set of documents and
as an event in the life of the church. For the moment the line
represented by Cardinal Ratzinger is in the ascendancy in Rome and
claims a monopoly on the interpretation of the Council; and he has not
hesitated to use the power of his office to reinforce this line,
sometimes in language and by means that are difficult to reconcile with
either the texts of Vatican II or the communion-inspired methods of
Vatican II. But to show all this would require a more attentive and
critical book than this one.

3) The following article, by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the
Roman Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, was published on the
front page of the Italian edition of “Osservatore Romano” on 29 Dec.
2000. The English translation was procured by the Sisters of Sion in
Rome, a congregation with a special concern for Jews.

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger: “The Heritage of Abraham: the Gift of Christmas”

At Christmas we exchange gifts, in order to bring joy to others, and to
share in the joy which the choir of angels announced to the shepherds,
calling to mind once more the gift par excellence which God made to
humanity when he gave us his Son Jesus Christ. But God prepared this
gift over the course of a long history, during which – as St. Irenaeus
says – God became accustomed to being with human beings, and human
beings became accustomed to being in communion with God. This story
begins with the faith of Abraham, the father of those who believe, and
also the father of our faith as Christians – one who, through faith, is
also our father. The story continues with the blessings granted to the
patriarchs, the revelation to Moses, and Israel’s exodus toward the
Promised Land. A new stage opens up with the promise of an unending
kingship – the promise made to David and his descendants. The prophets
in turn interpret this history, calling people to repentance and
conversion, thus preparing human hearts to receive the ultimate gift.
Abraham, father of the people of Israel, father of faith, thus becomes
the source of blessing, for in him “all the families of the earth shall
call themselves blessed” (Genesis 12:3). The task of the Chosen People
is, therefore, to make a gift of their God – the one true God – to every
other people; in reality, as Christians we are the inheritors of their
faith in the one God. Our gratitude, therefore, must be extended to our
Jewish brothers and sisters who, despite the hardships of their own
history, have held on to the faith in this God right up to the present,
and who witness to it in the sight of those peoples who, lacking
knowledge of the one God, “dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death”
(Luke 1:79).

The God of the Jewish Bible (which, together with the New Testament, is
also the Christian Bible) – a God at times infinitely tender, and at
times so severe as to inspire fear – is also the God of Jesus Christ and
of the Apostles. The Church of the second century had to resist the
denial of this God by the Gnostics and, above all, by Marcion, who
created a dichotomy between the New Testament God and the “inferior”
Creator God who was the source of the Old Testament. The Church,
however, has always maintained its faith in a single God, the Creator of
the world, and the author of both Testaments. The awareness of God
contained in the New Testament, which finds its summit in the Johannine
definition that “God is love” (1 John 4:16), does not contradict the
past, but rather serves as a summary of all of salvation history, which
initially had Israel as its central figure. For this reason, the voices
of Moses and the prophets have rung out in the Church’s liturgy from its
very beginnings until today; Israel’s psalter is also the great book of
the Church’s prayer. As a result, the primitive Church did not pit
itself against Israel, but in all simplicity believed itself to be the
legitimate continuation of Israel. The splendid image of chapter 12 of
the book of Revelation – of a woman clothed with the sun, crowned with
twelve stars, pregnant and suffering in the pangs of giving birth – is
Israel, which was “to rule over all nations with an iron scepter” (Psalm
2:9). Nonetheless, this woman is transformed into the new Israel, the
mother of new peoples, and she is personified in Mary, the Mother of
Jesus. The bringing together of these three meanings – Israel, Mary,
the Church – shows how Israel and the Church were, and are, inseparable
for the Christian faith.

We know that every act of giving birth is difficult. Certainly, from
the very beginning, relations between the infant Church and Israel were
often marked by conflict. The Church was considered by her own mother
to be a degenerate daughter, while Christians considered their mother to
be blind and obstinate. Down through the history of Christianity
relations, already strained, deteriorated farther, even giving birth in
many cases to anti-Jewish attitudes, which throughout history have led
to deplorable acts of violence. Even if the most recent, loathsome
experience of the Shoah was perpetrated in the name of an anti-Christian
ideology, which tried to strike the Christian faith at its Abrahamic
roots – in the people of Israel – it cannot be denied that a certain
insufficient resistance to this atrocity on the part of Christians can
be explained by an inherited anti-Judaism present in the hearts of not a
few Christians. Perhaps it is precisely because of this latest tragedy
that a new vision of the relationship between the Church and Israel has
been born: a sincere willingness to overcome every kind of anti-Judaism,
and to initiate a constructive dialogue based on knowledge of each
other, and on reconciliation. If such a dialogue is to be fruitful, it
must begin with a prayer to our God, first of all that he might grant to
us Christians a greater esteem and love for that people – the people of
Israel – to whom belong “the adoption as sons, the glory, the covenants,
the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; theirs are the
patriarchs, and from them comes Christ according to the flesh, he who is
over all, God blessed forever. Amen.” (Romans 9:4-5) – and this not only
in the past, but still today, “for the gifts and call of God are
irrevocable” (Romans 11:29). In the same way, let us pray that he may
grant also to the children of Israel a deeper knowledge of Jesus of
Nazareth, who is their son, and the gift they have made to us. Since we
are both awaiting the final redemption, let us pray that the paths we
follow may converge.

It is evident that, as Christians, our dialogue with the Jews is
situated on a different level than that in which we engage with other
religious. The faith witnessed to by the Jewish Bible (for Christians
the Old Testament) is not merely another religion to us, but is the
foundation of our own faith. Therefore Christians – and today
increasingly in collaboration with their Jewish sisters and brothers –
read and attentively study these books of Sacred Scripture, as a part of
their common heritage. It is true that Islam considers itself as one of
Abraham’s offspring, and has inherited from Jews and Christians this
same God. Muslims, however, follow a different path, and so dialogue
with them calls for different parameters.

To return to the exchange of Christmas gifts with which I began this
meditation: we must first of all recognize that everything we have and
do is a gift of God, which is gained only through humble, sincere
prayer. It is a gift that must be shared between various ethnic groups,
between religions who are seeking a better grasp of the divine mystery,
between nations who seek peace, and between people who wish to build a
society where justice and peace reign. This is the programme sketched
out by the Second Vatican Council for the Church of the future, and we
Catholics ask the Lord to help us to persevere on that path.

NOTE: The 3-day meeting in New York in early May of the International
Catholic-Jewish Liaison Committee issued a statement quoting Cardinal
Walter Kasper of the Pontifical Commission for Religious Relations with
Jews and a participant in the meeting, as saying that the Vatican
document “Dominus Iesus,” issued by Cardinal Ratzinger’s CDF, is “an
intra- Catholic document about interreligious dialogue addressed to
Catholic theologians … It does not enter into the Jewish-Catholic
dialogue. … [There] is no missionary activity on the part of the
church directed toward converting Jews.”

4) Nuncio Angelo Roncalli’s efforts to assist Jewish victims of the
Holocaust.
At the instigation of the Raoul Wallenberg Foundation, research is
being undertaken on the humanitarian interventions by Nuncio Roncalli
(later Pope John XXIII) on behalf of Jewish victims in the Balkan
countries. The results, catalogued from the later volumes of Actes et
documents du Saint Siège pendant la deuxième guerre mondiale are to be
found on the website:
http://www.raoul-wallenberg.org.ar/engkish/roncallinfo2,htm

 

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May 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- May 2001- Vol. VII, no. 5
 

Dear Friends,

Contents:
1) Editorial
2) Conference report – Annual Scholars’ Conference on the Holocaust and the Churches
3) Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte Conference, September 2001
4) Book reviews:

Sampson and Lederach, Mennonites and peacemaking
Gerlach, The Confessing Church and the persecution of the Jews
Pangritz, Karl Barth in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer

5) New Journal articles, Hong Kong, Italy and Germany

I am glad to tell you that next month we shall have a Guest Editor, Reverend
John Jay Hughes, of St Louis, Missouri. He is well known for his stimulating
books, mainly about the Papacy, and his reviews which appear in many
scholarly journals. I appreciate his help enormously.

1) Editorial:
From my necessarily limited and subjective vantage point here on the edge of
the Pacific Ocean, I keep on being surprised and delighted by both the
quantity and quality of the new work being written in our field of
contemporary church history.
When I began to send out this Newsletter in 1995, I thought it would only be
a matter of a few months before the backlog of new titles was exhausted. But
here we are, six and a half years later, and the flood is still coming! And
this is all the more remarkable in view of the low place Church history
receives in most academic curricula.
Germany, of course, as one could expect, is still the chief source of such
riches. The existence of state-supported theological faculties in almost all
their universities, and the plenitude of graduate students producing huge
theses, which then appear in their subsidized presses, are a welcome source
of new scholarship. But even in less favoured countries, very reputable work
appears with a refreshing range of interests. Looking back on the books
reviewed in our Newsletter in its 75 issues, as can be seen in the indices
or web-site, shows a fine variety and exceptional quality of performance.
And new areas seem to be coming back into favour. For example, we Canadians
can take pride in the splendid achievement of W.J.Callahan with his two
volumes on “The Catholic Church is Spain”, or the revived interest in French
church history with the appearance of Michel Cointet’s “L’Eglise sous Vichy,
1940-1945”. And it is to be hoped that soon we shall have English-language
studies of the complex histories and situations in eastern Europe.
Clearly, the so-called third world is missing, or rather word of new
publications in this area has not reached me. I should welcome any advice on
new books, or better still reviews of new research in these areas, to be
forwarded. Your help is much appreciated.

2) 31st Annual Scholars’ Conference on the Holocaust and the Churches, St.
Joseph’s University, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, March 3-6th, 2001.
This conference now draws several hundred scholars, representing a variety
of fields and interests, from throughout the world. In response to the
growing number of participants, conference organizers this year experimented
with a new format (which will be used in alternate years). Instead of
issuing a general call for papers, a smaller number of panels on specific
topics were scheduled. The invited panelists were asked not to present
papers but to offer some remarks as starting points for a general
discussion. There were very few concurrent sessions, thus ensuring that most
participants joined the same discussions throughout the meeting. Optional
roundtable discussions at the luncheons were another successful innovation
that allowed participants with common interests to meet.
This format worked. Most panelists kept their remarks brief, allowing
substantial time for discussion among the panelists and audience members.
The panels this year focused on Holocaust denial, the study of “ordinary
people”, the study of other genocide, complicity, post-Shoah education, new
research and the study of women. The “cutting edge” panel presented new work
being done on the legal and nursing professions and the responses of the
Canadian churches. An evening program honoured Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his
biographer Eberhard Bethge, and included a trailer from the forthcoming film
documentary on Bonhoeffer being made by independent filmmaker Martin
Doblmeier. In plenary speeches, Rabbi Irving Greenberg and Professor Yaffa
Eliach shared the insights gained from their years of research and
reflection.
In general, the new format gave the meeting greater focus and depth. It also
underscored the particular strength of this conference, which has always
been its interdisciplinary nature. The panel on the study of “ordinary
people”, for example, included a historian, a religious scholar, an expert
on the nursing profession, two scholars of Holocaust literature and gender
issues, and a social psychologist. The conversation generated by their
remarks showed that the questions that confront scholars in this field are
never “purely” historical or ethical; and, whatever the focus of our own
work, the research of those in other fields can offer new and important
pieces of the puzzle. The diverse nature of the panels and the increased
emphasis on discussion this year sparked ongoing conversations among
participants that continued outside the sessions. Next year’s conference, to
be held at Kean College in Union, New Jersey, will follow the traditional
format, but this new format for alternate years is to be welcomed. Among
other things, it illustrated that, when enough time is given to discourse,
scholarly meetings can be enjoyed as well as endured.
Victoria J.Barnett, Arlington, Virginia

3) Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte Conference
This year’s conference, under the leadership of Gerhard Ringshausen,
Lüneburg, and Dr Czembor, Poland, is to take place from September 15-19 in
Ustron, in southern Poland, not far from Kattowicz. The theme is : From
nationalist confrontation to European collaboration. The role of the
Churches in the paths of Germany and Poland, and will focus largely on the
Polish/German experience over the past hundred years. Details from Dr
Ringshausen, = ringshau@mailhost.uni-lueneburg.de

4a) Cynthia Sampson and John Paul Lederach (eds.). From the Ground
Up: Mennonite Contributions to International Peacemaking. Oxford
University Press, 2000, 316pp.

There has been a great increase in scholarly interest and writing on
the subject of peacemaking over the last two decades. Among the many
individuals and groups involved in peacemaking are the Mennonites, who
have consistently received much attention for their involvement in peace
activism from within their own community. In “From the Ground
Up: Mennonite Contributions to International Peacemaking”, the editors
Cynthia Sampson, a non-Mennonite scholar, and John Paul Lederach, a Mennonite
peacebuilding practitioner, have built on other well-known texts on
Mennonite peace work since the 1940s – for example, Leo Driedger’s
“Mennonites in Conflict” (1984), and Driedger’s work with Ron Kraybill,
“Mennonite Peacemaking: From Quietism to Activism” (1994) – and have
welcomed critical analysis from outside the Mennonite community. The
strength of “From the Ground Up” is found in its eclectic representation of
authorship, as the accounts of fourteen Mennonite peace workers are
analyzed and evaluated by four non-Mennonite scholars. With both the
authors and the editors coming from such diverse backgrounds, the common
pitfalls of both endo- and exo-denominational a priori presuppositions are
satisfactorily checked and challenged throughout the study. With that
sound methodological foundation, Sampson and Lederach’s chief query
asks: How is Mennonite faith connected to their contributions to
peacemaking?
The Mennonite people have commonly been associated with peace and
nonresistance. While this association finds ample justification
throughout history (albeit with many exceptions) and in many Mennonite
communities today, the peace that has been attained has mostly been
accomplished through separation from ‘the world.’ Joseph Miller, Ron
Kraybill and John Lederach address this tendency in the history of the
Mennonite peace stance in the first part of the book, and reveal how the
‘in but not of the world’ theology of the Mennonites has undergone massive
alterations since the Second World War.
The negative experiences many Mennonites endured during wartime (many
North American Mennonites who refused the draft were ridiculed, harassed,
imprisoned and physically harmed) served as the catalyst for a
re-evaluation of their time-honored traditions of nonresistance and
nonconformity. Many came to realize that nonresistance, in its
traditional form, was more irresponsible than anything else, leading many
Mennonites to convert from their passive, secluded peace stance to
nonviolent social action and radical peacemaking. Now willing to pay the
‘ultimate sacrifice’ after joining the ‘corps’ in working toward bringing
peace to troubled areas, Mennonites were able to pour their energies into
positive social and structural change, and simultaneously quell the
wartime accusations of being free-loading cowards.
With the traditional Mennonite two-kingdom theology effectively
done away with (or at least radically revamped), new groups, mostly
emanating from the Mennonite Central Committee, began to organize and move
into all parts of the world. Miller informs us that, rather than arriving
in order to alleviate suffering after a great disaster or war (which was
the common approach of the MCC and Mennonite Disaster Service for some
time), these new groups of Mennonite peacebuilders, such as: the Christian
Peacemaking Teams; the Mennonite Conciliation Service; and the
International Conciliation Service; began to focus on the prevention of
violence and on empowering people to regain ownership of their respective
situations in troubled areas of the world.
The main section of the book is a collection of essays written by
Mennonite peacebuilders that have been actively engaged in this latter
approach to peacebuilding throughout the world. Areas of focus
include: South Africa (Ron Kraybill and Robert and Judy Herr); central
America (John Lederach and Mark Chupp); Ethiopia and Somalia (Lederach and
Bonnie Bergey); Northern Ireland (Joseph Liechty and Joseph
Campbell); Liberia (Barry Hart); Columbia (Ricardo Esquivia and Paul
Stucky); and Kathleen Kern’s essay on the Christian Peacemaking Teams “From
Haiti to Hebron.” In each of these cases, according to Lederach,
Mennonite peacebuilders have aimed to “offer true alternatives to the
life-destroying visions that currently govern our world” (p.44).
The four scholars that contribute to the critical analysis of the above
cases agree on many points, primarily in their praise of the uniqueness
and effectiveness of the Mennonite approach to peacemaking. Sally Merry
comments on the Mennonite focus on establishing grassroots connections
(which is believed to promote longevity in change) and on maintaining the
primary focus of serving God, which provides the criteria for success in
all peace work. Similarly, Christopher Mitchell observes the Mennonite
commitment to fostering local ownership of peacebuilding efforts, as they
strive to become “as near to insiders as they can while maintaining a
relevant deterrent role as outsiders” (p.225). In a very engaging and
deeply analytical essay, Marc Gopin places the Mennonite approach to
peacemaking in a broader context, comparing it to non-Christian conflict
resolution theories (p.243). He also praises their efforts, asserting
that the Mennonite history of martyrdom affords them a particularly deep
existential understanding of Otherness that underpins their approach to
and effectiveness in peacemaking.
Cynthia Sampson concludes the book with a case by case assessment
of the Mennonite peace projects outlined above. Here, Sampson focuses on
what she sees as the three central tenets of Mennonite peace
work: capacity building; framework setting; and ways of being. Sampson
agrees with Merry and Mitchell’s observations of Mennonites fostering
local ownership of peace initiatives, and credits the unique Mennonite
theology of humility and pervasive ethos of service for that
success. According to Sampson, this solid foundation accounts for why the
Mennonites, more often than not, proceed quietly, gently, respectfully and
non-competitively in their work.
And what binds this all together? Gopin concludes that Mennonite faith is
inextricably linked to both their vision for and execution of peacemaking
initiatives. Their strong traditional theology of service, strong
communal ties and powerful prayer networks and communal identity affords
the Mennonites the ideal combination for effective peacebuilding
(p.241). Indeed, all four critics unanimously praise the Mennonites for
continuity between theory (a theology of peace) and praxis, which can be
seen as successfully redeeming the numerous examples of wartime dissonance
between the two (many North American and nearly all German Mennonite men
of draft age chose to bear arms in the Second World War). The new form
of peacebuilding, which has replaced the passive nonresistance of old, has
furnished contemporary Mennonites with an “enormous transformative
potential for the future interactions of the global
community” (p.255). In this view, consistent cross-cultural sensitivity,
deep humility, communal support and a commitment to servanthood – seen in
the examples in this book – have contributed to the long-term
effectiveness of many Mennonite peace efforts around the world and to a
radical alternative to the immediacy and high profile focus that dominates
many peace initiatives today.
Steve Schroeder University of British Columbia

4b) Wolfgang Gerlach, And the Witnesses were silent. The Confessing Church
and the Persecution of the Jews. (translated and edited by Victoria
J.Barnett). Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press. 2000. 304pp
One of the most striking developments of the past five decades has been the
increase of concern for the victims of violence and persecution in the
public consciousness of most countries of the western world. The shock of
the Holocaust, perpetrated by the Nazis against the Jewish people, and
subsequent reflection on the enormity of these crimes, was undoubtedly a
major contributory factor. This shift in attitude has since developed in
three significant ways. First, geographically: today persecution of
individuals or groups, and violations of their human rights, anywhere in the
world arouses concern globally – a process greatly assisted by the advent of
modern technologies, especially television. Second, intentionally: this
awareness of a moral duty is no longer limited to one’s own kith and kin, or
nationality, or race, but is recognized as a universal obligation to all
women, men and children of every society. Third, this consensus is no longer
propagated solely by churches and synagogues as part of their system of
religious belief, but rather is acknowledged as an ethical imperative for
all on humanitarian grounds, based on such secular expressions as the United
Nations’ Declaration of Human Rights, first published in 1948.
This process has also affected historians. Scholars writing about the events
of the Holocaust have increasingly adopted such a stance in line with this
presentist perception of the need and duty to uphold human rights in the
face of totalitarianism. They are therefore highly critical of the groups
commonly described as “bystanders”, i.e. those agencies and individuals who
at the time failed to take sufficient and effective measures to prevent, or
at least to deter, the persecutions and mass murders of so many innocent
Jewish victims. In recent years this approach has been notable in a number
of studies of the responses of the Christian churches to the impact of
National Socialism. In recent months, for example, no less than nine books
have appeared analyzing the policies of Pope Pius XII during the Holocaust,
the majority of which have found his conduct of affairs to be lacking in
courage to deal with this moral outrage.
On the Protestant side, this same approach is found in this well-researched
study by Wolfgang Gerlach, a pastor of the German Evangelical Rhineland
Church. After depicting the generally pejorative attitudes in the German
Evangelical Church towards the Jews, Gerlach takes particular issue with
those of his colleagues who, in the post-war period, had prided themselves
on their opposition to Nazism. This group, the Confessing Church, to be
sure, right from 1933 resolutely fought off the attempts of their rivals,
the so-called “German Christians”, to align the Evangelical Church with Nazi
ideology and practice. They were successful, at least in part, in defending
both the autonomy and doctrine of their church from pro-Nazi infiltration.
But on the subject of the Jews they were silent.
The Confessing Church’s most significant statement of theological
principles, the famous Barmen Declaration of 1934, made no mention of the
Jewish issue. And even the initial statement of the immediate post-war
period, the notable Stuttgart Declaration of Guilt of October 1945, did not
specify the Church’s failure to protest against the mass extermination of
the Jewish people at the hands of German perpetrators.
The Confessing Church, as a whole, and especially its leaders, were
conservative nationalists, who saw themselves as the true upholders of
Luther and his traditions. This included a virulent anti-Judaism on
theological grounds, following some of Luther’s most pernicious remarks late
in his career. Added to this, these men shared much of the social
antisemitism current in Germany in the 1920s, especially the dislike of the
Jews from eastern Europe, whose influence was widely believed to be morally
and nationally dangerous. Leaders like Otto Dibelius, one of the strongest
opponents of the “German Christians”, and later to serve as Bishop in Berlin
for twenty years after the war, or Martin Niemoeller, who was to suffer
nearly eight years of concentration camp incarceration, were nonetheless
unsympathetic to the Jews, even though they rather reluctantly accepted the
need to defend the interests of the Christians of Jewish origins.
But the fate of the few “non-aryan” Evangelical pastors showed how limited
was the support given by the Confessing Church, as can be seen in the events
in Hanover, where Bishop Marahrens notably failed to support his clergy when
they were driven out of office by Nazi pressure.
The result was that the Confessing Church had no theology to hand which
could have led them to mobilize assistance for the Nazis’ prime victims.
Even after the shocking events of the Crystal Night in 1938, there was no
significant paradigm shift. It was only long after the war that a more
positive pro-Jewish theological stance was adopted. At the time, these
churchmen were reluctant to become involved, or saw no obligation to those
not belonging to their faith. They also wanted to remain staunchly loyal to
their government in all secular matters. Many believed the Nazi propaganda
that the Jews deserved their fate.
Nevertheless there were individual and heroic incidences of defiance, such
as the extraordinary help given in Wuerttemberg to Jews who had had to go
underground. Max Kracauer and his wife, for example, were steered for
eighteen months through sixty-one “safe” houses, mainly Confessing Church
rectories, until the Americans arrived in 1945. Such expressions of
humanitarian solidarity, however, remained isolated.
In the aftermath, and especially after fifty years, it is impossible to
judge how far the atmosphere of apprehension and downright fear dictated the
caution and cowardice of the Confessing Church. But Gerlach supplies a
plethora of documentation which shows how far even these churchmen were
deluded in their thinking, and still at the end of the war were striving to
reconcile their theological and national loyalties. Unfortunately neither
left room for the Jews. Gerlach’s final verdict is bitingly critical:
The documents available establish that the Confessing Church regarded the
Jewish question as annoying and burdensome and treated it dilatorily. The
church’s protracted handling of the Jewish question encouraged the state’s
persecution of the Jews. The Confessing Church’s dogmatic solution to the
Jewish question in 1939 and 1940 fostered the Evangelical Chancery’s
rigorous solution in 1941 [to exclude the Jews from church fellowship] – and
ultimately, the Nazi state’s Final Solution. (p. 236)
The original German version of this study was first written in 1970, but was
refused publication in Germany on the grounds that it defamed so many of the
post-war church leaders and their “heroic” version of the German Church
Struggle against Nazism. Not until 1987 did it appear in Germany. This
English version has been excellently edited and translated by Victoria
Barnett, who is well known for her similarly fine services to Bethge’s
biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. But in the meantime, much of the material
has become familiar to English-speaking readers through Richard Gutteridge’s
scholarly treatment “Open thy mouth for the dumb! The German Evangelical
Church and the Jews, 1879-1950”, which appeared in Oxford in 1976. Ms
Barnett has appended a useful note on other sources, both in German and
English, which will be of help to those not familiar with the details of
this lamentable story.
JSC

4c) Andreas Pangritz, Karl Barth in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
Grand Rapids, MI: Wm.B.Eerdmans Publishing Co., 2000.
The nature of the relationship between Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer
has long been a subject of heated debate amongst theologians and Church
historians. No matter whether the interest is in the field of dogmatic
theology or political praxis, the precise scope of both mutuality and
disagreement between the two men has remained uncertain. Some have argued
that Bonhoeffer regarded Barth in much the same way that Barth regarded
Kierkegaard-as a necessary starting-point from whom it was necessary
nevertheless to diverge. Others have suggested that Barth continued to stand
as mentor for Bonhoeffer even after their celebrated dispute in October 1933
over Bonhoeffer’s exodus to England and their argument over the right
response to the so-called Aryan Paragraph. Clearly, there were differences
between the two, both theologically and politically. But do these
differences outweigh the numerous points of convergence? Is the most
significant aspect of their relationship defined by where they parted, or by
where they came together? And in what did Barth act as Bonhoeffer’s teacher,
and where was it the opposite? These are the questions raised by Andreas
Pangritz in this new monograph.
The principal question posed by Pangritz is what precisely Bonhoeffer meant
when he accused Barth-and, perhaps more pointedly, the Confessing Church
(especially as embodied by Hans Asmussen)-of a “positivism of revelation”.
This becomes especially pertinent when, in later stages of the book,
Pangritz notes that for the young Bonhoeffer in Berlin, revelatory
positivism was a virtue and not a vice of theological construction and one,
moreover, of which Barth did not possess enough! Much has been said about
this nebulous charge, and it remains the subject of intense controversy. Of
equal significance is whether Bonhoeffer thought that the Barthian
positivism of revelation heralded the end of the line of any fruitful
discussion between the two theologians, or whether in fact it was no more
than an argument within the same school. The substance of Pangritz’s book
strongly suggests the latter.
Pangritz begins his argument by locating Bonhoeffer’s accusation within the
context of his commitment to an ‘arcane discipline’, that is, a belief that
the mysteries of the Christian faith be kept pure. According to Bonhoeffer,
Barth’s dogmatic approach-which effectively entailed a ‘take it or leave it,
all or nothing’ attitude to doctrinal issues-was a violation of these
mysteries. Thus Bonhoeffer’s accusation was a warning ‘against the danger of
saying too much'(p.114) and in consequence profaning the mysteries. This was
especially true for the doctrines of the virgin birth and the Trinity which
Bonhoeffer wanted to rescue from credal formalization. And yet even in
prison when these accusations began to surface, the young Lutheran remained
deeply indebted to Barth’s theological endeavours. Moreover, Pangritz shows
that behind the polemical charges, stood a long-standing relationship
between the two men that was characterized by a constant ebb and flow of
agreement and disagreement. Thus, it is Pangritz’s conviction that, in order
to fully understand why the accusation of a ‘positivism of revelation’
occurred when it did, and on what theological grounds, it is necessary to
re-trace the pathway of the relationship that existed between Barth and
Bonhoeffer over the twenty years from 1924-5 until Bonhoeffer’s death.
Bonhoeffer’s first encounter with Barth’s theology was in 1924-25 when he
was a student of Harnack in Berlin. Pangritz explores Bonhoeffer’s earliest
writings to argue that in his seminar papers of this time, Bonhoeffer
substantially agrees with Barth, even to the extent of advocating a
Calvinistic incapax. It is only in his doctoral and habilitation
dissertations (Sanctorum Communio and Act and Being respectively) that
Bonhoeffer begins to express the typical Lutheran reservation against the
Extra Calvinisticum. There is a particular concern over the Barthian
approach to ethics. In Bonhoeffer’s view, Barth’s emphasis on the majesty of
God was a formalization of God’s freedom which threatened to veil the extent
to which ‘the Word became flesh and, in Christ, exists as community’ (p.28).
However, even here the critiques of Barth’s programme are contained within
the context of an excited enthusiasm for the Barthian intent. That the two
dissertations of 1927 and 1929 contain strong criticisms of Barth’s attempt
to valourise the sovereignty of God should thus not be taken as illustrative
of a fundamental dispute. Rather, Pangritz suggests that it was precisely
because Bonhoeffer felt so close to Barth that he explored the differences
between them so resolutely. Indeed, by a process of mediation and advocacy,
Bonhoeffer was attempting to explain Barth’s programme and render it
acceptable to a Berlin faculty that regarded it as both nonsensical and
profane. In Pangritz’s words, ‘Barth remains the standard’ for Bonhoeffer
(p.25).
This enthusiasm for Barth was strengthened, according to Pangritz, after the
first face-to-face meeting of the two in July 1931. Barth’s theological
revolution which prioritized the logos theou as the one true object of
theology was, for Bonhoeffer, a new way of reading Scripture-not a
post-World War One psychosis, but rather a genuine listening to the Word of
God that no one in Berlin was even attempting (pp.35-36). However, in spite
of these far-reaching agreements, Pangritz is at pains the stress that
fundamental differences opened up between Barth and his pupil, most notably
in the field of ethics. For Bonhoeffer, echoing his dissertations, Barth was
ethically too soft. Barth provided ethical parameters, but not ethical
principles or concrete foundations. Indeed, Pangritz notes that in his
search for a revelational base for ethical action, Bonhoeffer felt abandoned
by Barth.
Curiously, Pangritz shows that through the thirties, the Kirchenkampf served
to highlight both the agreements and the differences. While divergent on
matters of Church politics (and hence Bonhoeffer’s exodus to London), they
remained firmly together on the side of an unconditional opposition that was
embraced only reluctantly by the rest of the Confessing Church. Where they
differed theologically was again in the realm of ethics. As Bonhoeffer put
together his ideas for Nachfolge (Cost of Discipleship), he turned to the
Sermon on the Mount for ethical concreteness. Perhaps not surprisingly,
Pangritz notes that in this respect, ‘Barth did not take [Bonhoeffer] far
enough’ (p.53). On the other hand, what cannot be said of this divergence is
that it represented a confessional conflict between Lutheranism and
Calvinism along the lines of Bonhoeffer’s Act and Being. What was becoming
crucial for Bonhoeffer at this time was the recognition, in light of the
Barmen Declaration, that Lutherans and Reformed speak with one voice against
the Nazi tyranny.
As the war years progressed, Barth and Bonhoeffer found themselves even more
closely in tune with one another when it came to the need for resistance.
True, they differed in how they thought resistance should best be offered,
but of the need for it there was neither doubt nor quarrel. What is most
interesting about this is that both men were writing sections on ethics at
the same time during these years (Barth for his CD II/2, and Bonhoeffer for
his fragmentary Ethics) and that, unlike Bonhoeffer’s earlier reservations,
both were in substantial agreement. Pangritz considers that Bonhoeffer gave
practical demonstration of Barth’s call for tyrannicide (the Gifford
lectures of 1938, published as The Knowledge of God and the Service of God).
Further, Bonhoeffer seems clearly to have relied on both Barth’s 1919
Tambach lecture and Rechfertigung und Recht from 1938 to give clarity to his
own work on ethics (pp.63, 65). Thus, Pangritz can say with some confidence
that Bonhoeffer’s later accusation against Barth was in no sense a direct
continuation of previously-held disagreements. Their similarity of ethical
and political praxis in the war years suggests, rather, that the charge of
‘positivism of revelation’ was something quite novel in the relationship
between the two.
Having established with scholarly acumen the discontinuity between
Bonhoeffer’s early questions to Barth and the later accusation of positivism
of revelation, Pangritz closes his study with a consideration of the extent
to which the charge was indeed valid. He surmises that Bonhoeffer’s
accusation was provoked by his reading of Barth’s Church Dogmatics II/2, in
particular the doctrine of election. While in substantial agreement with
Barth’s so-called ‘triumph of grace’ (G.C. Berkouwer), Bonhoeffer was also
concerned that there was a ‘missionary consciousness’ (p.124) in Barth’s
thought that threatened to override God’s sovereign concern for the
‘religionless world’ and thus do an injustice to the biblical witness. In
particular, Pangritz finds evidence of this in Barth’s attitude towards
Israel. Had Barth been more prepared to acknowledge the integrity of
Israel’s independent existence, he would also have given more hermeneutical
weight to the world without God. Conversely, Barth’s unwillingness to see
the religionless world ‘come of age’ as having autonomous integrity is
mirrored in his negative characterization of Israel. Pangritz has perhaps
been unduly harsh on Barth at this point, but the significance of the
differences between Barth and Bonhoeffer on this issue is nonetheless made
clear.
The upshot, however, is that the Bonhoefferian critique was not the German
theologian’s definitive summation of Barth’s doctrinal agenda, even if it
was, by virtue of his martyrdom, his own last word. Pangritz makes clear in
the last section of the book that even if the charge of ‘revelatory
positivism’ can be upheld, it was not, at least for Bonhoeffer, an accurate
picture of Barth’s overall theology. Indeed, when one looks at his Humanity
of God lecture and his ‘doctrine of lights’ (CD IV/3), there are substantial
points of contact between Barth and Bonhoeffer’s notion of the religionless
world that emerge in Barth’s later works. In these loci, the togetherness of
God and humanity is stressed, and allowance is made for true words about God
to be found even outside the Church (p.135). Perhaps here, we see an
indication of Barth now being taught by his old pupil.
Thus, Pangritz’s conclusion is that the differences between the two men over
a late and undefined accusation by one of them must not be taken as evidence
of a complete break, nor as proof that their relationship had always been
stormy. Rather, when taken as a whole, the remarkable partnership that
developed between Barth and Bonhoeffer must be regarded as one of the most
fruitful dialogues in modern theological history-and, moreover, one from
which there is still much for the Church of the 21st Century to learn. Mark
Lindsay, University of Western Australia

5) Journal articles:
a) Richard Steigmann-Gall, Apostasy or religiosity? The cultural meanings of
the Protestant vote for Hitler. in Social History, Vol 25, no 3, October
2000.
This sprightly essay looks at the reasons why Protestants in Germany should
have voted for Hitler, especially in 1933. Steigmann-Gall argues that
previous attempts to classify Nazi voters by occupation, class origin or
gender are inadequate, but that the ethos of Protestantism in the previous
decades made this group particularly likely to be supporters of Hitler. He
does not however give any explanation as to why a significant opposition
movement within the Church arose so quickly and refused to be intimidated.
Nor does he attempt to give any weight to theology.
b) Shun-Hing Chan, Nationalism and religious Protest in Hong Kong Protestant
churches, in Religion, State and Society, Vol 28, no. 4, December 2000, p
359-84.

A survey of the relationship between politics and religion in post-colonial
Hong Kong in the period 1998-2000
c) Mario Giovanelli, The 1984 Covenant between the Republic of Italy and the
Vatican: a retrospective analysis after 15 years, in Journal of Church and
State, Vol 42, no. 3, Summer 2000, p. 529ff. Reviews the present state of –
cordial – relations between these former opponents.
d) Gerhard and Renate-Maria Besier, Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Request in
recognition as a Corporation under Public Laws in Germany: Background,
Current Status and Empirical Aspects, in Journal of Church and State, Vol
43, no. 1, Winter 2001, pp35-48
A brief but helpful account of the long history of prejudice and persecution
by the dominant elements in Germany of the Jehovah’s Witnesses, which
continue to defame them and deny them public law status. The authors present
a favourable report on the J.Ws in Germany.

With every best wish
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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April 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

Newsletter- April 2001- Vol. VII, no. 4
 

Dear Friends,

Contents:
1) On writing Church History
2) Book reviews: a) ed.Schjorring, et al., History of the Lutheran World
Federation
b) Zucotti, The Vatican and the Holocaust
c) ed. Denzler and Siegele-Wenschkewitz, Theologische Wissenschaft im
Dritten Reich
3) An Easter Hymn

1) “That historians should their own country a break, I grant you, but not
so as to state things contrary to fact. For there are plenty of mistakes
made by writers out of ignorance, and which anyone finds difficult to avoid.
But if we knowingly write what is false, whether for the sake of our country
or our friends or to be pleasant, what difference is there between us and
hack writers? Readers should be very attentive to and critical of
historians, and they in turn should be constantly on their guard.” Polybius,
2nd Century B.C.
“Church history provides an important means of understanding the Christian
people and their Church, since, if it is willing to use the historical
critical method, it thereby reveals where Christians have been and gives
them some important clues about where they are going. The picture it
reveals, if it is striving to be critical as well as objective, does not
always please. Shadows are part of all people and the institutions they
create. Institutional shadows can be ignored or deliberately concealed, but
the price is a heavy one, for ultimately such studied ignorance weakens and
even kills the human spirit, which in turn fosters apathy and finally
institutional irrelevance. In following such an argument, there are church
historians who would insist that we must always avoid making “moral
judgments” about what happened in the past. However, if being a church
historian means avoiding “moral judgments” about the past, then, as a
profession, it must surely relinquish its claim of having anything of much
importance to teach to the present or future generations. However, having
the courage to critically examine and accept the shadow can provide the
human spirit with a new sense of unity, hope and compassion and the
possibility of individual and institutional reconciliation, reform and
renewal. Vincent J. McNally
“Let nothing untrue be said, and nothing true be unsaid”: Pope Leo XIII
“Truth may be painful for the Church, but untruth is even more so”: Klaus
Scholder

2a) ed. J.H.Schjorring, P.Kumari, N.Hjelm, From Federation to Communion. The
History of the Lutheran World Federation. Minneapolis: Fortress Press 1997,
552pp
To mark the fiftieth anniversary of its establishment in 1947, the Lutheran
World Federation commissioned the distinguished Danish church historian,
Professor Jens Holger Schjorring, along with two colleagues, one from Madras
and one from Philadelphia, to produce a record of the developments in these
decades within the Lutheran world family. The result is an informative,
thoughtful work designed for the intelligent layman, which will hopefully be
read also by non-Lutherans.
The editors wisely refrained from a strictly chronological approach but
rather combined their narrative with an analytical and theologically-based
examination of the various trends within the Lutheran community. The central
thesis is that, over the course of these fifty years, Lutheranism has
changed its ecclesiological self-understanding, and Lutherans have grown
closer together. The result is the emergence of a sense of being no longer
just a federation of nationally-based units, but one communion, deliberately
conscious of the common responsibilities each section feels towards the
others.
At the same time, the L.W.F. understands itself as a movement within the one
ecumenical movement for the sake of the one Church catholic. How these
forces have been reconciled and witnessed to is the principal subject of
this excellently balanced study.
In actual fact, the 1947 creation of the Federation was the second attempt
to bind Lutherans from around the world closer together. In 1923 the
preceding organization, the Lutheran World Convention, had been established,
but the German Lutheran leaders had at that time clearly seen this agency as
a vehicle for their nationalist views, especially their political campaign
against the alleged “injustices” of the Versailles Treaty. This same
nationalism was to lead these men to give their effusive support to the
political goals of Adolf Hitler, even if they also strove to protect their
church’s own autonomy. The failure to overcome this clash of loyalties meant
that in 1945 this old guard, led by Bishop Marahrens of Hanover, was
discredited. A new beginning, a new name, and new faces were required. It
was largely the Scandinavians’ initiative, backed by American money, which
led the new structure to be set up at the university town of Lund in Sweden
in 1947.
The immediate tasks were clear enough: how to tackle four vital areas of
responsibility: rescue for the needy, common initiatives in mission, joint
efforts in theology, and a common response to the ecumenical challenge. The
remarkable fact was that, despite the bitter wounds of the past, and
continuing tactical differences of view, there was united support for a new
organ of international Lutheran fellowship and co-operation. It survived
largely because the new German leadership turned over a new leaf, while the
American and Nordic Lutherans acted with generosity and pastoral care in
their dealings with their former enemies. The result was a common
determination to settle urgent matters on a new and ecumenical basis, and to
rediscover Luther’s heritage in a non-nationalistic framework. At the same
time there was a new awareness of the Lutheran communities on other
continents, placing them within the whole global community of Christian
churches. In contrast to the self-justifying and defensive mentality of the
1920s, this new Federation had a much different and more open dynamic.
Schjorring uses the attractive metaphor of an orchestra to describe the
Federation’s progress. There was always the danger that individual sections,
German,.Nordic, American or the so-called minority churches, would create
disharmony by insisting on playing their own tunes. In view of the absence
of any single strong conductor, Schjorring attributes the success to the
moderating and modulating influence of the Nordic churches. The decision to
establish headquarters in Geneva, alongside the still unborn World Council
of Churches, was clear evidence of the willingness to rise above
nationalistic proclivities and to co-operate ecumenically, even if this
proximity later led to some abrasive quarrels over “turf”. But the
advantages of Geneva’s world-wide view made for a constructive relationship
between the secretariat and the member churches, allowing for both
uniformity and pluriformity within the Lutheran family. There were, to be
sure, moments of shrill discord, but also times of unforgettable melody and
rich harmony.
Schjorring’s third chapter describes how the resources of the Federation
were mobilized, first to undertake relief and reconstruction programmes in
Europe, and then, in the 1960s, almost seamlessly were extended to meet some
of the even greater and continuing needs on other continents. This was the
period of European de-colonization. The churches were among the leaders in
seeking to hand over responsibilities to their local adherents, and
accepted, sometimes readily, sometimes reluctantly, the change in
relationships such a step involved. The Lutherans were perhaps fortunate
that the war-time expulsion of so many German missionaries had made their
daughter churches more self-reliant. Schjorring could possibly have made a
few comparisons with other churches in Africa and Asia undergoing the same
process in order to show how well the Lutherans fared.
The growth of these newer self-reliant indigenous churches in the Lutheran
family necessitated a change in the understanding of mission. Western
missionary paternalism was replaced by a recognition of the autonomy and
independence of the local churches on all six continents. It was the
foundation for a world-wide koinonia. And after 1970 the structures of the
LWF sought to reflect the desire of these younger churches to participate as
decision makers and full partners rather than as mere recipients of western
benevolence. At the same time, these younger churches readily accepted the
responsibility of mission, and indeed have frequently succeeded in
contributing new emphases and enthusiasms. But, as is here made clear, the
LWF’s structural changes were often the sources of internal controversy. The
historic European and North American missionary societies were obliged to
adapt to a new and as yet untried stance. Again, some comparisons with other
churches’ experience would have been welcome.
These striking political and ecclesial changes necessitated new theological
reflection. Schjorring’s thoughtful chapter on the course of Lutheran
theological deliberation shows how the traditional task of handing on past
insights had to be matched to new and often radical challenges. Finding a
balance has not been easy. The shadow of Luther himself, of the Reformation,
and of northern Europe loomed large; but gradually a wider vision prevailed
with a new attention to the concerns of the younger churches and their
special ethical problems. At the same time, the older churches have been
called to a new understanding of their political responsibilities in
society, thus remedying the deficiency of the 1940s. Particularly
interesting is the discussion of how the LWF applied this wider vision when
dealing with the issue of apartheid. Undoubtedly this paved the way for a
greater sense of communion between all sections of the Lutheran family.
The final section of the book contains a narrative of the eight Assemblies
of the LWF between 1947 and 1990, as well as short biographies of the
Presidents and General Secretaries during this period. This information will
be useful for reference purposes. Together with the analysis outlined above,
the whole work can be commended to a wide readership, as a stimulating
record of the life and witness of this section of the Christian Church.
JSC (With apologies for the belatedness of this review).

2b) Susan Zuccotti, Under his very windows. The Vatican and the Holocaust in
Italy.
New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000, $29.95.
(This review is reprinted from the New York Times Book Review, 4 Feb 2001)

In the last three years the papacy’s role in World War II, and above all its
response to the Holocaust, has come in for fresh scrutiny. In part this is
because the process for canonizing Pope Pius XII, begun nearly 40 years ago,
is now, it seems, heading toward some sort of conclusion. In part it is
because of pronouncements made by the Vatican. In 1998 the Holy See’s
Commission for Religious Relations With the Jews issued a statement entitled
”We Remember: A Reflection on the Shoah,” in which it expressed ”deep . .
. regret” for ”the errors and failures of those sons and daughters of the
church” who had done less than they should to oppose or mitigate Nazi
atrocities. Last spring, in Israel, squaring up to the issue of Roman
Catholicism’s historic anti-Judaism, Pope John Paul II declared that ”the
Catholic Church . . . is deeply saddened by the hatred, acts of persecution
and displays of anti-Semitism directed against the Jews by Christians at any
time and in any place.”

”Under His Very Windows,” Susan Zuccotti’s third book about the Holocaust,
comes hot on the heels of John Cornwell’s ”Hitler’s Pope” (which makes a
case for the prosecution) and Ronald J. Rychlak’s ”Hitler, the War, and the
Pope” (for the defense). Zuccotti is firmly in the prosecution camp. Her
aim is to show that whatever help was given to the Jews by the Catholic Church
during the war resulted almost entirely from spontaneous acts by courageous
individuals — priests, monks and nuns, and occasionally prelates — and not
from any interventions by the Vatican. The argument that Pius XII worked
tirelessly behind the scenes for the Jews (an idea already circulating by
the end of the war, and endorsed in the 1960’s by Pinchas E. Lapide, an Israeli
diplomat who calculated that the pope was responsible, directly or
indirectly, for saving 860,000 Jewish lives) is dismissed as myth.

Zuccotti makes her case strongly. She charts the near-total silence of both
Pius XI and Pius XII in the face of the Italian anti-Jewish laws of 1938,
underlining how the Vatican intervened only on specific issues such as
interracial marriages and converts to Catholicism. She looks at the
assistance given by the church to internees in Italy after June 1940 and
concludes that ”the Holy See had done nothing more for Jewish internees
than for non-Jews, and that was little enough.” She examines in detail how much
the Vatican knew about the Final Solution, and when, and suggests, like
others before her, that while the full magnitude of the tragedy may have
been unclear, the pope and his senior officials had plenty of reliable
information and that from 1942 they ”knew and believed a great deal about the
exterminations.” In the light of this, she says, the fact that Pius made
just two vague public references in the war to those who were suffering on
account of ”their nationality or descent” (using the neutral word stirpe
rather than razza) was wholly reprehensible.

Zuccotti then looks at the plight of Jews in Italy from the time of the
Italian armistice in September 1943, when the Germans took direct control of
north and central Italy, to the end of the war. She examines the harrowing
events surrounding the Rome roundup of Jews by the Nazis in October 1943 and
the deafening silence of the pope. She then explores the efforts made by the
church in Rome and northern Italy to assist those Jews who had managed to
elude the Nazis. There is a good deal of fresh and often fascinating
material here, drawn from local archives and from interviews by the author with
survivors. Zuccotti’s main point is to show that the many instances of Jews
being sheltered or assisted by clerics were not due in any way to Pius.

This is a serious and well-researched book that certainly raises yet more
questions about the conduct of the papacy in World War II. But is it good
history? For all its scholarship, it feels driven by a remorseless desire to
find wanting. Only in the conclusion does Zuccotti face what for the
historian must be the most important question: not so much the fact of
silence or relative silence, but how that silence is to be understood and
interpreted. Credit is given in places; but for the most part the text is a
litany of phrases like ”it was not enough,” ”that was all,” ”it was
very little,” ”lamentable,” ”he was wrong,” ”should have” — phrases that
repeatedly raise questions about the author’s intellectual, as well as
moral, vantage point. All historians make judgments, but their first duty is surely
to try to understand. Zuccotti condemns, but offers little new insight into
why the Vatican and Pius acted as they did.

Part of the problem lies with shortage of material. The only Vatican papers
available for the war years are the 11 volumes published by the Vatican
between 1965 and 1981. Accordingly, it is hard to gauge the complex
interplay of political and moral considerations that necessarily informed papal
actions. Also, and perhaps crucially, Pius himself remains elusive: he was
solitary, secretive and autocratic, more given to praying than confiding in
others or committing private thoughts to paper. But even if more material
becomes available, reconstructing the moral and emotional atmosphere out of
which the genocidal atrocities of the war grew, as well as the silences of
the pope, would be extremely hard. It is easy with hindsight to dismiss
certain fears or hopes as misplaced. At the time they were real.

Like Cornwell, Zuccotti is keen to highlight the traditional anti-Judaism of
the Catholic Church; and while she does not go as far as Cornwell in
declaring that Pius was at heart an anti-Semite who believed that the Jews
had brought their own fate upon themselves, we find ourselves being nudged
quite firmly in this direction. The available evidence, however, does not
warrant this. That strong prejudices against the Jews existed in Catholic
circles is beyond doubt, and that these were shared in some measure by Pius
is certain. But prejudices of this kind were sadly common in Europe in the
early 20th century, and not just among Catholics. Moreover, there is a vast
chasm between cultural and religious anti-Judaism and racist anti-Semitism.
Pius’s reticence in the face of the Holocaust, as of many other atrocities
in the war, probably arose from a complex amalgam of political, moral and
religious considerations, interlaced with uncertainty and fear. In what
measure exactly these various elements worked to inform his decisions we may
never know.
Christopher Duggan is a historian at the University of Reading in England.
His books include ”A Concise History of Italy.”

N.B. A new journal article which takes issue with the above book, as well as
other books critical of Pius XII, such as Michael Phayer’s The Catholic
Church and the Holocaust 1930-1965 (reviewed here December 2000), has been
written by a leading American scholar, Rabbi David G.Dalin. This appears in
The Weekly Standard Magazine, February 26th 2001, Vol 6, number 23. It is
also available on the website:
http://www.weeklystandard.com/magazine/mag_6_23_01/dalin_bkart_6_23_o1.asp
At the end of this 13 page article, David Dalin comes to the following
conclusion:
“There is a disturbing element in nearly all the current work on Pius.
Except for Rychlak’s Hitler, the War and the Pope, none of the recent
books – from Cornwall’s vicious attack to McInerny’s uncritical defence – is
finally about the Holocaust. All are about using the sufferings of the Jews
fifty years ago to force changes upon the Catholic Church today. It is this
abuse of the Holocaust that must be rejected.”

2c) ed. Georg Denzler and Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, Theologische
Wissenschaft im “Dritten Reich”. Ein oekumenisches Projekt. (Arnoldshainer
Texte 110) Frankfurt-am-Main: Haag and Herchen 2000, 187 pp.

Shortly before her untimely death in December 1999, Leonore
Siegele-Wenschkewitz completed a brief introduction to this collection of
six essays, which her colleague Georg Denzler, emeritus professor from
Bamberg, has brought to publication as one of the series of Arnoldshain
texts, named after the Evangelical Academy near Frankfurt, where Frau
Siegele-Wenschkewitz was the Director.
Both scholars were concerned to fill what they perceived as a lamentable gap
in the historiography of the Protestant and Catholic churches’ stance during
the Third Reich, namely the absence of any comprehensive and comparative
study of the theological faculties during this period.
One reason for this omission was the lacklustre performance of the
theologians of that era. Moreover, since 1945, particularly for the
Catholics, the writing of church history during the past few decades has
been defensive and apologetic. Possibly for this reason, as Professor
Denzler points out, even though nearly a hundred substantial studies have
appeared under the auspices of the Catholic Commission for Church History,
none covers the role of the Catholic theological faculties under Nazism. Nor
has there been any ecumenical willingness to undertake such a project by
theologians of both churches working together.
No one can deny that the theological faculties played an unheroic role in
the Nazi era. Too many of the Protestant faculties came under the leadership
of pro-Nazi activists, such as Emanuel Hirsch in Goettingen. As for the
Catholics, as Denzler points out in his opening chapter, there was no
willingness to challenge the view that the 1933 Reich Concordat had secured
Catholic rights, and in return the professors should uphold the regime. Only
a few took a confrontational stand against the ideology of National
Socialism. Most were silent. Even so, the Gestapo had no doubt about the
pernicious influence of the Catholic theologians and sought every means to
suppress them. Denzler might well have weighed up how much the “smell of
fear” and the certainty of repression prevented any more outspoken
opposition.
On the other hand, Denzler’s second chapter outlines the stance of four
prominent Catholics theologians who openly supported the regime. Karl Adam
was Tuebingen’s most prominent Catholic professor. He threw his weight
behind Hitler as the man who would restore the nation’s health and greatness
by emphasizing its Christian heritage. Hence he could justify the regime’s
antisemitic policies. Michael Schmaus was another leading Catholic seeking
to build bridges between Catholicism and Nazism, mostly because of his
fascination with “volkish” ideas. So too Joseph Lortz of Muenster embraced
the Nazis’ autocratic leadership because of his dislike of all left-wing
tendencies. Not until 1937, after the Papal Encyclical, did he begin to
realize the incompatibility of these loyalties. So, despite his earlier
eagerness for the Nazi cause, he went on to have a lengthy post-war career
in Mainz. And a fourth theologian, the Jesuit Anton Stumm, though much less
well known, was equally ardent in his enthusiasm for Hitler and his dreams
of national glory. Denzler is not only offended by these outspoken and
reactionary attitudes but equally by the veil of silence so carefully drawn
in post-war Germany over these men’s earlier excesses.
A parallel case on the Protestant side was Otto Weber, director of the
Elberfeld School of Reformed Theology, and later Professor in Goettingen. He
was too young to have fought in the war, but, like many of his generation,
eagerly sought a restoration of Germany’s national honour and world status.
Hence in 1933 he saw Hitler as Germany’s saviour, who would give a lead in
overthrowing liberal and humanistic ideas, and so set an example for the
renewal of the Church. Not surprisingly he joined the Nazi Party in May
1933, and a few months later became one of the new Reich Bishop’s Cabinet in
Berlin. But shortly afterwards he began to see the folly of his ways, and
gave up this office in favour of teaching reformed theology in Goettingen.
In 1945 he made a full apology for his mistakes, was reconciled to Europe’s
leading reformed theologian,. Karl Barth, and continued to teach until his
death in 1964. The author of this chapter, Vicco von Buelow has since
completed a massive biography, published by Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht in
Goettingen.
More problematic was the career of Johannes Leipholdt, Professor of New
Testament in Leipzig for forty-three uninterrupted years, 1916-1959. Dr
Siegele-Wenschkewitz analyses his extensive popular publication record
throughout these years and shows how the political changes affected his
stance. In the Weimar republic he portrayed Jesus as a loyal Jew, true to
his own tradition. In the Nazi era, however, Leipholdt stressed Jesus the
opponent of Judaism, and hence could repeat the Christian stereotypical
denigration of the Jews. After 1945, he emphasized Jesus’ universal mission,
derived from Greek ideas, and so again downplayed Judaism. Since such a
stance was approved by the communist regime in East Germany, he was able to
maintain his position in Leipzig, and even to become a member of the People’
s Parliament. A careerist, or a cautious scholar careful not to expose
himself? The question is left open.
Oliver Arnhold describes the scandalous views of the extreme pro-Nazi
Protestant theologians from Thuringia, who believed that no one should be
entrusted with spiritual leadership in the new Germany who did not have
“national socialist flesh, national socialist blood, national socialist
spirit, and national socialist longings”. Attempts by more moderate
theologians to condemn such heretical and un-Biblical distortions, and to
exclude their proponents from the church administrations, only widened the
rift. The Thurigians retaliated by accusing these dry-as-dust and
reactionary scholars of missing the boat, of failing to recognize the
greatness of Adolf Hitler, and of isolating the church in an outdated
ghetto. Trusting in the backing of the Nazi Party leadership, these zealots
steered straight for confrontation. The result was that the Evangelical
Church was even more divided, the Nazi government lost interest in trying to
force the church into subjection, the Reich Church Minister was totally
discredited, and no effective resistance to the Nazis’ secular goals was
mounted.
Patricia von Papen contributes a well-researched chapter on the career of a
Nazi intellectual, Wilhelm Grau. Born in 1910, in Catholic Bavaria, Grau was
finishing his studies when the Nazis came to power. His thesis on the
expulsion of the Jews from Regensburg in 1519, in which he praised the city
fathers for their stand against the perfidious Jews, had obvious
contemporary relevance. Not surprisingly Grau quickly jumped on this popular
bandwagon and was soon enlisted as a writer for the new Reich Institute for
the History of the New Germany. He was employed in providing justifications
from history for the Nazis’ fanatical antisemitism. But subsequent quarrels
with the egotistical Director, Walter Frank, led to his dismissal and
transfer to the staff of the chief Nazi ideologue, Rosenberg. By the middle
of the war, he had come to adopt Rosenberg’s thesis that not only the Jews,
but also the Christian churches, endangered the future health of the German
Volk – a not uncommon view in such circles. Patricia von Papen has
meticulously examined all of Grau’s highly ephemeral publications, and
indeed even interviewed him in his old age. She does not however disclose
whether he changed his views after 1945, or what lessons he learned from his
over-enthusiastic endorsement of this pernicious ideology. Nor is it
explained why Grau was included in this volume, since he was never a
theologian, or a significant leader of church opinion.
The tone of all the contributions in this book is accusatory. While such
indignation is objectively justified, it is unclear what it hopes to
achieve. No theologian in Germany today is an “eliminationist antisemite”.
Hammering more nails into this coffin would seem questionable.
JSC

3) An Easter Hymn

Alles Leben stroemt aus Dir
Und durchwallt in tausend Baechen
Alle Welten – Alle Sprechen
Deiner Haende Werk sind wir

Dass ich fuehle, dass ich bin,
Dass ich Dich Du Grosser! kenne
Dass ich froh Dich Vater nenne:
O, ich sinke vor Dich hin.

Welch ein Trost, und unbegrenzt
Und unnennbar ist die Wonne,
Dass gleich Deiner milden Sonne
Mich dein Vateraug umglaenzt!

Deiner Gegenwart Gefuehl
Sei mein Engel der mich leite,
Dass mein schwacher Fuss nicht gleite
Nicht sich irre vor dem Ziel.

Old Appenzeller Hymn

With best wishes
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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March 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- March 2001- Vol. VII, no. 3
 

Dear Friends,
Congratulations are due to Kyle Jantzen, Assistant Professor of Church
History, Canadian Theological Seminary, Regina, Saskatchewan on the
successful completion of his PhD from McGill University. The abstract of his
thesis appears below.
Since last month marked the 95th anniversary of the birth of Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, we bring you some items on his career as possibly the best known
German theologian of the 20th century.

Contents:
1a) Notice of session “Remembering Bonhoeffer and the Church Struggle”,
Scholars’ Conference, Philadelphia, March 2001
Notice of Bonhoeffer Symposium, Boston, April 23rd, 2001
b) Bonhoeffer Session, American Academy of Religion, November 2000
c) review of Bonhoeffer – Agent of Grace”.
2) PhD Abstract: Kyle Jantzen, Protestant clergymen and church-political
conflict in National Socialist Germany
3) Journal articles:

1a) “Remembering Bonhoeffer and the Church Struggle” 31st Annual Scholars’
Conference on the Holocaust and the Churches, March 3rd-6th, St.Joseph’s
University, Philadelphia. A tribute to Bonhoeffer’s biographer, Eberhard
Bethge, will include a video of interviews made by Martin Doblmeier of
Journey Films Inc – the last shortly before Bethge’s death last March. Short
tributes will be paid by Burton Nelson (North Park Theological Seminary),
Pat Kelley (North American Bonhoeffer Society), Victoria Barnett
(independent scholar and translator), Wayne Floyd Jr., (Editor, English
language edition of Bonhoeffer’s Works). Franklin Littell is Convenor.
A Bonhoeffer Symposium will be held at the Boston University School of
Theology, Monday, April 23rd 2001, sponsored by the Boston German Consulate,
Boston University and Fortress Press. Two panels will examine the political,
historical and theological legacy of Bonhoeffer’s life and thought. The film
“Agent of Grace” and a Bonhoeffer documentary will be shown. Confirmed
speakers are Chancellor John Silber of Boston University, Dean Robert
Beville, Clifford Green, Wayne Floyd and Victoria Barnett.
More details available from Dorothee von Arnim at the German Consulate =
boston@germanconsulate.org
b) American Academy of Religion session: “Bonhoeffer, the Jews and Judaism”,
November 19th, 2000 A report by Victoria Barnett
Richard Rubenstein, presenter; Victoria Barnett and Robert Ericksen,
respondents

In some respects, the discussion about Dietrich Bonhoeffer in recent years
has paralleled the ongoing debate about Pius XII. Both are complex figures,
historically and theologically; each has his detractors and defenders. Two
years ago, a petition to declare Bonhoeffer a “righteous gentile” was
submitted to Yad Vashem. That petition was rejected, as was a recent appeal.
The argument about this petition and Yad Vashem’s response became the focus
of the AAR panel. As a participant on this panel, I will declare my own
bias. I believe that part of the problem with most recent discussions about
Bonhoeffer and the Jews is that they focus too much on rendering a
definitive verdict. Was Bonhoeffer a “good guy” or a “bad guy”? While it is
certainly appropriate to make ethical judgments about the behavior of
historical figures, the debates about such judgments often leaves complexity
by the wayside. Indeed I would argue that Bonhoeffer’s most profound work
emerged from the thoughtfulness and courage with which he faced the ethical
demands and consequences of his complex situation.
Richard Rubenstein presented the case for viewing Bonhoeffer as a “righteous
gentile,” not by Yad Vashem’s standards, but in “lowercase,” as it were.
Christian readers of Bonhoeffer’s early theological writings about Judaism
(notably “The Church and the Jewish Question”) often gloss over the genuine
offense and pain these give to Jewish readers. Rubenstein offered a direct
and nuanced response to this essay, noting that the Lutheran heritage that
shaped Bonhoeffer’s theology also led him to fight the introduction of
“Aryan laws” in the church. Taking into account both the striking
anti-Nazism of the entire Bonhoeffer family and Bonhoeffer’s resistance
work, Rubenstein concluded that Bonhoeffer was “unable to extricate himself
from the traditional Christian view of Jews and Judaism,” yet became one of
the few in his church to transcend that tradition to fight Nazism and resist
the state.
While agreeing with many of Rubenstein’s observations, I argued for a
reading of “The Church and the Jewish Question” in its church-historical and
ecumenical context. The purpose of such a contextual reading is not
apologia. Rather, it enables us to trace where Bonhoeffer’s thinking went in
later writings. While Bonhoeffer did not later write explicitly on the
church and the Jews, there are some indications of a real shift in his
thinking about Judaism in his Ethics and Letters and Papers from Prison.
This shift occurs in the context of his reflections on the necessarily
changed role of Christianity in modern secular society. Bonhoeffer’s focus
was always Christianity, not Judaism, and so we may learn more here from his
later writings on church and state.
Robert Ericksen responded by analyzing the search for heroes of the
Holocaust. “Our desire for heroes,” he noted, should be balanced with a
“sense of the magnitude of the disaster.” The Holocaust was made possible by
widespread and terrible complicity among all professions in Germany,
including the ranks of theologians and pastors. Quoting Stanley Rosenbaum’s
description of Bonhoeffer as “the best of a bad lot,” Ericksen reminded the
audience of how bad that theological lot actually was in its prejudice
against Jews. In his opposition to Nazism, Bonhoeffer distinguished
himself — yet this may have been despite his theology, not because of it.
Ericksen’s analysis is particularly interesting in light of the chapter,
“Twentieth Century Antiheroism: Camus and Bonhoeffer,” in the recently
published Heroism and the Christian Life, by Brian Hook and Russell Reno.
The consensus of the panel seemed to be that it is less important to declare
Bonhoeffer a “Righteous Gentile” than to continue an honest and open
discussion about his work and its legacy.
Victoria Barnett kindly made available to us the text of her commentary,
which we share with you – somewhat abridged.
The growing attention to Christian complicity in the Holocaust, the long
history of Christian anti-Judaism, and the abysmal failure of many Christian
leaders to withstand Nazism or act on behalf of its victims has led us
Christians to examine both our history and theology more critically. We
re-examine figures such as Bonhoeffer because we want to see where they
stood on this spectrum of behavior. Bonhoeffer is a hero to many Christians
because of his theological writings and early opposition to the Nazi regime,
his role in the conspiracy to overthrow Hitler, and his execution. They
would like to assume that this means he was also a hero within the context
of the Holocaust.
The resulting problem, however, is that this discussion tends to focus on
Bonhoeffer’s thought and action within a narrow framework. By examining his
life and work purely in terms of its significance for the history of the
persecution and genocide of the Jews, it separates his statements about
Judaism and the Jews from their larger context within the German
Kirchenkampf, thereby leaving out other aspects of Bonhoeffer’s ministry and
thought that might prove relevant here. This leaves us to draw our
conclusions from the rather short list of the relevant writings, anecdotes
and events from Bonhoeffer’s career that make direct mention of the Jews. .
. .
Those who view Bonhoeffer as a hero of the Holocaust argue that these
documents and actions are the foundation for his subsequent resistance,
imprisonment and execution. They conclude that Bonhoeffer’s resistance,
throughout the Nazi era, was grounded in his opposition to the Nazi
persecution of the Jews.
Those who disagree with this interpretation view Bonhoeffer more as part of
the problem than the solution. They concur with the Yad Vashem committee’s
statement that Bonhoeffer’s public record upholds “the traditional Christian
delegitimization of Judaism” and that the only record of his opposition to
the Nazi persecution of the Jews consists of undocumented statements made
privately.
With respect to his 1933 essay, “The Church and the Jewish Question”, I
would argue for an examination of the theological section together with the
political analysis. As I have written elsewhere, the so-called “Jewish
question” actually encompassed a number of political and cultural issues for
Germans at the time. At its core was the question of assimilation and, thus,
in reality it was the “German question” – the search for a German national
and cultural identity, accompanied (as so often in such quests) by prejudice
and the scapegoating of a particular group. Bonhoeffer’s critique of the
resulting ideology, the legitimacy of the new Nazi government, and the
dangers of church accommodation to Nazi ideology quickly placed him on the
radical fringe of the Kirchenkampf, in the view of most German Protestant
leaders. His 1933 essay merged what were originally two separate essays,
which Bonhoeffer combined in the wake of the April 1 boycott of Jewish
businesses in Berlin. The section of the essay that deals with church and
state questions expresses some clear political attitudes, including
Bonhoeffer’s clear sense that the Nazi measures against the Jews were a
violation of their civil rights. He recognized that the Jews in early 1933
were indeed victims; and the church’s responsibility, he wrote, was to “aid
the victims of state action.even if they do not belong to the Christian
community.”
Bonhoeffer’s recognition of Nazi measures as a civil liberties issue was
certainly based, in part, on his firsthand observation of racism and Jim
Crow legislation during his studies in the United States during 1930-31. In
February 1933 he wrote Reinhold Niebuhr of the threat of “gruesome cultural
barbarization, so that here, too, we will have to open a Civil Liberties
Union before long.” In September 1933, Bonhoeffer helped formulate the
anti-racism declaration made by the World Alliance for Promoting
International Friendship through the Churches at its meeting in Sofia,
Bulgaria. Although the Yad Vashem committee, in rejecting this piece of
evidence on behalf of Bonhoeffer, contended that the World Alliance confined
its concern to church members affected by Nazi racial laws, in point of fact
the declaration (in addition to condemning the “Aryan clause” in the church)
explicitly condemns “the treatment that people of Jewish descent and ties
have suffered in Germany. We especially deplore the fact that the state
measures against the Jews in Germany have had such an effect on public
opinion that in some circles the Jewish race is considered a race of
inferior status.” . . .
Bonhoeffer’s thinking along these lines is even more remarkable when
compared with the statements of some other ecumenical leaders at the time
(such as William Paton) who viewed a “rechristianized” Europe as the means
for repairing the damage wrought by Nazism. Bonhoeffer explicitly argues
against this understanding. What is needed, he writes, is not
“rechristianization,” but a rethinking of how Christians understand their
own place in the world. . . . .

Bonhoeffer’s Christology at this point includes a new acknowledgment of the
legitimacy of non-Christians and of the secular state and its institutions.
To the Christian, the worldly order still falls “under the dominion of
Christ,” but this is joined with an affirmation of secular society that
includes members of other religions. . . .
This broader vision underscores the incredible tension that Dohnanyi,
Bonhoeffer, and other resisters felt between their role in helping the
German resistance by seeking allies abroad and their detailed knowledge
about what was happening to the Jews of Europe. And, I would suggest, it
compels us to read Bonhoeffer’s statements, especially his essay “After Ten
Years,” with new eyes. . . .
In the final analysis, Bonhoeffer’s focus was Christianity and its church,
not Judaism. If he changed his mind about Judaism, this occurred within the
context of his rethinking of his own Christian tradition. Yet the radical
conclusions he drew about the future role of Christianity (e.g.,
“religionless Christianity”) are precisely the concepts that open the way
for a deeper respect for, and acceptance of, other religions. By rethinking
the essence of Christianity and its place in the world, and its relationship
to the state, Bonhoeffer laid an essential part of the foundation for how we
Christians view other faiths, and a rethinking of how we live in the world.
Even here, however, the most we can do is tease out where we think he was
moving. We do not know where he would have ended up.

c) The film, Bonhoeffer: Agent of Grace was repeated in North America on PBS
television on January 18th. In view of this wide audience, and despite the
fact that we printed an insightful review by John Matthews in last July’s
Newsletter, we now reprint a critical review by G.B.Kelly, President,
International Bonhoeffer Society, English Language Section.
“After I had been informed that Bonhoeffer:Agent of Grace had been chosen
the “Best Film” at the 40th Annual Monte Carlo Television Festival in
February 2000, I was delighted to be given the opportunity to view an
advance copy. My expectations were high. Finally, I was going to view a film
that would do justice to Bonhoeffer, one of my great heroes, a dialogue
partner for the past thirty-six years, and a theologian to whom I have
devoted most of my professional research and publishing.
The actual life story of Bonhoeffer is filled with action, intrigue,
inspiration, romance and behind-the-scenes attempts to bring World War II to
an end and stop the killing on the battlefields and death camps of occupied
Europe. Bonhoeffer was a man of action, a preacher of note, a successful
university teacher, an outspoken ecumenist, an agitator for peace, a critic
of the injustices of a criminal government, a defender of the Jews against
Nazi racism, a pastor involved in a violent conspiracy to assassinate the
head of state, and a martyr who gave his life in the struggle to free his
nation and the world from Adolf Hitler and his evil ideology. How could a
film about such a fascinating person fail? I believed I was in for an
evening of seeing a great story on the screen and, at last, the contentment
of seeing a film that could capture all that Bonhoeffer was and meant to
generations of his countless admirers. Or so I thought!
From the opening scenes in Harlem until the closing scene of a naked
Bonhoeffer walking alone without an SS escort toward a single scaffold, my
emotions ranged from disappointment to irritation that a film so exalted in
the advance publicity should end with so little impact. As a film
consultant, and having read so many bad scripts for a commercial film on the
life of Bonhoeffer, I didn’t think anything could get worse than the scripts
I had already rejected. Unfortunately this film strikes me as being just as
bad, and, in my opinion is inherently flawed by dullness, distortion,
significant omissions, and clumsy editing. One of the most glaring omissions
is the nearly complete absence of Eberhard Bethge from the film, which is
like telling the story of Jean Paul Satre without any mention of Simone de
Beauvoir. The scriptwriter and the director misuse the talents of the
prominent German actor who plays Bonhoeffer by turning him into a figure who
mopes about filled with scruples over whether he should join the conspiracy.
Where is the decisive, outspoken Bonhoeffer whom his students and
seminarians admired for his ability to speak out with force and conviction
about the treatment of the Jews?
At this juncture of the film enter Hans von Dohnanyi who uses mere still
photos and sterile documents of Nazi atrocities (the audience is supposed to
guess the contents) to convince Bonhoeffer to overcome his pastor’s
reticence and join the conspirators. Given that Bonhoeffer was privy to this
information and that this may have weighed on his mind as he decided to use
his energies to oppose Nazi policies, did the process shown on screen have
to be so boring? There were unbelievable horrors perpetrated against the
Jews during this period. To convey the intensity of Bonhoeffer’s opposition
to the victimization of the Jews, the film desperately needed action scenes,
even film clips from the historical record that could graphically depict the
sufferings of an innocent people. Bonhoeffer was neither wavering nor
silent. Yet the film lacks the dramatic scenes of the brutalization and
genocidal persecution of the Jews or scenes depicting the utter ruthlessness
of the Nazi death squads. Bonhoeffer spoke publicly and with vehemence
against Nazi policies and actions. His passion is missing from this film.
Instead, the filmgoer is treated only to monotonous ruminations of
conscience by an indecisive clergyman bearing little resemblance to the real
life Bonhoeffer. Where are the scenes of and reactions to Crystal Night?
Where are Bonhoeffer’s demands for church action to speak out, to aid the
victims and, if necessary, to jam a spoke in the wheel of state? Where are
the exciting challenges of his sermon before the World Alliance of Churches
declaring that “Peace must be dared. It is the great venture.” Instead, this
made-for-television Bonhoeffer is made to say mundane things that are out of
character with the documented and widely known biography. His angry
questions to the Church Synod that weaseled out of the challenge to refuse
to take the oath of allegiance to Adolf Hitler as a birthday gift to the
Fuehrer are muted. The dramatic words of so many of his sermons and the
incisive power of so many passages of his book on Christian discipleship are
absent. This is a more peaceful, pious Bonhoeffer out of character with the
fiery pastor of the historical record.
Bonhoeffer’s secret mission to Sigtuna, Sweden in 1942 is, likewise,
divested of any of the excitement that attended this moment in which his
role in the resistance movement took on added risk and importance. Where is
the angry demand, amply recorded by Bishop Bell, that Germany make
reparations to the occupied victimized countries of Nazi expansionism?
Bonhoeffer is reduced to a pious churchman lamenting the suffering inflicted
on his people and nation but hardly aroused to the fever pitch of prophetic
outrage and action that marked the real life Bonhoeffer.
What could have been an exciting scene of smuggling Jews out of Germany was
reduced to a more placid advice to the Jewish escapees in question to simply
trust the Abwehr. There seemed to be no attempt by the filmmaker to create
any suspense in those actions so fraught with danger. There are many
liberties taken with this presentation of Bonhoeffer. It is puzzling why no
artistic liberty was taken in the scenes of rescue in order to add some life
to this sluggish film and to recreate the actual risks that people like
Bonhoeffer and his fellow conspirators were taking in saving Jews from the
death camps and attempting to undermine the Nazi regime.
In one of the most poorly directed scenes of the film, Bonhoeffer appears to
be reduced to a pathetic fumbling for words before the relentless
questioning of the Gestapo official, Manfred Roeder, again a strange
falsifying of the historical record and an undermining of the real
personality strengths of Bonhoeffer. What we end up with is an
uninteresting, anxiety-ridden character doing rather ho-hum things until in
prison he is able to be of spiritual comfort to a fellow prisoner. The
exchanges between Roeder and Bonhoeffer are too long and wearying to the
film viewer. There is little of the personality of the Bonhoeffer so evident
in documentary attestations by those who knew him closely and that we find
so well developed in Bethge’s biography. The high point seems to come when
Bonhoeffer becomes man enough to say “no” to an offer from the prosecutor,
Manfred Roeder (given ironically and unbelievably a touch of humanity here
for the sake of the story line!), to negotiate with the allies on behalf of
leading Nazis desirous of saving their own skin – something both inaccurate
and preposterous. [Even worse is the implication that Bonhoeffer was hung
for refusing to go along with this suggestion: Ed] There are, to be sure, a
couple of very touching scenes, such as the prayer shared with a condemned
fellow prisoner and the exchanges with his cell guard. But these hardly
rescue the film from its doldrums.
In sum, this film is bereft of riveting action scenes. It lacks suspense
adequate to capture the imagination of the film audience. The story seems to
operate on the unfounded presumption that the film viewers are familiar
enough with the main character to supply for themselves the missing pieces.
Maria is pretty enough and fetching, but the similarity with the real life
Maria von Wedemeyer stops there, although this dull Bonhoeffer is a good
match for this Maria. This film gives us only a smattering of how and why
his actions are important. With so many expectations, this film is a major
disappointment. The truth of Bonhoeffer’s life was much more absorbing. He
was a man of courage, a man of vision, one of the most significant figures
in the religious history of the twentieth century. This film utterly fails
to convey the personal strengths and character of the man. Nor does it
adequately indicate to the viewer why he has been so admired as a hero of
the German resistance to Hitler and widely honored as a Christian martyr.
Geoffrey Kelly, La Salle University

2) Kyle Jantzen, Protestant clergymen and church-political conflict in
National Socialist Germany: studies from rural Brandenburg, Saxony and
Wurttemberg
This dissertation is a comparison of local church conditions in three German
Protestant church districts during the National Socialist era: the Nauen
district in the Brandenburg Church Province of the Old Prussian Union
Church, the Pirna district in the Saxon Evangelical Land Church and the
Ravensburg district in the Wurttemberg Evangelical Land Church. It focuses
on the attitudes and roles of the pastors, curates and vicars who served in
the primarily rural parishes of these districts, analyses the effect of the
‘national renewal’ movement that accompanied the National Socialist seizure
of power in 1933 upon these parishes, and probes their own attitudes towards
the prevalent religious nationalism of the day. Following a comparison of
the controversies surrounding pastoral appointments in Nauen, Pirna and
Ravensburg, the study examines the nature and intensity of church-political
conflict in each of the districts during the National Socialist era.
Finally, the study closes with a consideration of clerical attitudes towards
the National Socialist euthanasia programme and the antisemitism that led to
the Holocaust. Drawing on official church correspondence at three levels
(parish, district and land church), parish newsletters, accounts of meetings
throughout the period, the study concludes that while these Protestant
clergymen generally shared a common conservative nationalist outlook, the
manifestation of the church struggle in their parishes took diverse forms.
Parishioners in Nauen and especially Pirna (but not Ravensburg) displayed a
high level of interest in their churches in 1933, in part a result of the
strength of the national renewal in their regions. In Nauen, the church
struggle was channeled into the quest for control of pastoral appointments.
In Pirna, the church struggle mirrored the course of events in Saxony as a
whole, and included extreme “German Christians”, radical members of the
Confessing Church and a moderate movement for church peace. In Ravensburg,
“German Christian” pastor Karl Steger dominated local church politics and
fostered pro-National Socialist groups throughout the district. Finally the
study found almost no evidence among clergymen of official or public
engagement with the moral and theological challenges posed by National
Socialist racial policy.

3) Journal articles: Kauders, Catholics, Jews and democratization
Lees, Deviant sexuality and Protestant Conservatives before 1914
Williamson, Christian Conservatives and totalitarianism
Greschat, Tubingen Memorandum von 1961.
3 a)Anthony Kauders, Catholics, the Jews and Democratization in Post-war
Germany, Munich 1945-65, in German History, Vol 18, no 4, 2000 p.461-484.
Kauders convincingly outlines the responses of the largely Catholic
political elite in Munich after the fall of Nazism, and the various
arguments put forward to block or delay the recognition of their complicity
in the Nazi regime, and the acceptance of democratic practices in the
building of a pluralistic society. Not until the end of the 1950s, Kauders
argues, were Catholics ready to accept the new situation. But they still
showed
reluctance to accept the need for Vergangenheitsbewaeltigung, which they
complained “was lumped into the coffee every morning, cooked into the soup
every mid-day, and spread on to the sandwich every evening”.
b) Andrew Lees, Deviant Sexuality and other “Sins”: the views of Protestant
Conservatives in Imperial Germany. in German Studies Review, Vol XXIII, no
3, Oct 2000, 453-76.
After 1870, Germany saw an explosion of rapid urbanization, and consequent
social upheaval to the established patters of morality drawn from a rural
agricultural society.
Protestant clergy who saw themselves as the guardians of social ethics early
on recognized the danger signals and tried to forge new measures to ensure
social control. In the event, the attempt to prolong conservative practices,
especially in the field of sexual morality, were unsuccessful. Denunciation
of such “sins” did little to remedy the conditions of urban overcrowding,
exploitation and poor housing which were really to blame. But the clergy
still clung to the idea that a return to the Gospel, and the propagation of
middle class morality, would cure such failings, and were supported by such
institutions as the Inner Mission. The conservative character of these
appeals from the religious “right” did much to turn the mass of the people
to other creeds, such as Social Democracy.
c) Philip Williamson, Christian Conservatives and the challenge of
totalitarianism, in
English Historical Review, Vol CXV, no 462, June 2000, p 607-42
The inter-war period from 1919-1939 was a particularly difficult time to
discern how Christian values could be applied in the political arena.
Especially in Britain, the shock of the Great War led many Christians to
support a pacifist stance. But to such practising Christian politicians as
the Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, or the Foreign Secretary, Lord Halifax,
the need to balance the rival claims of justice as well as peace, the call
of national preservation as well as international harmony, meant that they
were obliged to seek a more nuanced position. Williamson cogently examines
these dilemmas, and argues in favour of the stance taken, reluctantly but
with Christian sanction, in favour of taking up arms against Germany for the
second time in a generation.
d) Martin Greschat, “Mehr Wahrheit in der Politik”. Das Tuebinger Memorandum
von 1961 in Vierteljahrshefte fuer Zeitgeschichte, Vol 48, no 3, 2000.
p.491ff
Martin Greschat continues his excellent record of publishing articles
dealing with the political stances of the German Evangelical Church by
examining the impact of an important memorandum published in 1961 by some
leading Germans, which called for a more honest approach to West Germany’s
strategic situation. In particular, they appealed for the abandonment of the
nationalistic claims to the lands taken by Poland after 1945, suggesting
that such a renunciation would be a true sign of German acceptance of their
defeat. This move was taken up in the councils of the German Evangelical
Church and became the basis of the outspoken Declaration on the Situation of
the Refugees and the German people’s relationship to its eastern neighbours,
published in 1965. Together these documents prepared the way for the Social
Democratic Party’s change of policy, signaled by Willy Brandt’s later and
spectacular visit to Warsaw.

Best wishes
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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February 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- February 2001- Vol. VII, no. 2
 

Dear Friends,

Contents:
1) Book reviews: a) Hubert Locke, Learning from History
b) Schaefer, Catholic Church in the GDR; Schmid,Dresden Churches
2) Book notes: Eikel, French Catholics in the Third Reich
3) Journal issues: Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte, 2000/1
4) New journal: Religion – Staat – Gesellschaft
5) Journal articles

1a) Book reviews:
Hubert Locke, Learning from History. A Black Christian’s Perspective on the
Holocaust. Westport, Conn./London: Greenwood Press 2000 129pp
Hubert Locke is a distinguished Black Christian scholar, and a Dean Emeritus
of the University of Washington, Seattle. His long-felt interest in the
Holocaust was aroused by his recognition of the profoundly disturbing
lessons and implications to be learnt. The experience of growing up Black in
a racially segregated America led him to be aware that the history of Jewish
suffering in Europe “could have been, or, God forbid, could yet be my own
history”. The legacy of the Holocaust is not therefore solely a Jewish
matter.
The ten essays in this sensitive and insightful book are written from a
special perspective, and explore particular aspects of both Jewish and Black
experience, showing both the commonalties as well as the differences. This
is not a work of archival research, but rather an example of valuable,
on-going and percipient reflection. Locke’s Christian point of view makes
him especially aware of the need for humility in the face of the Holocaust
tragedy. “This is a difficult position for scholars and academics; it is a
necessity for Christians”. His objective is eirenical, desirous of finding
common ground between Blacks and Whites, between Jews and Gentiles, between
Christians and Jews above all. All of us, he believes, should learn from
history, and must do so if we are to live in peace in one world.
Locke begins by comparing the history of the Black and Jewish people as mino
rities living within the Western world. Most did not choose to do so, were
subjected to discriminatory laws and practices imposed on them, and remained
essentially aliens in a civilization which prided itself on its pursuit of
liberty, equality and fraternity. But even today integration for these
minorities remains illusory. Their very presence is a constant reminder that
Western civilization is not a grand saga of human triumph. Nor can their
members take their future status for granted. The spectre of the Holocaust
reminds Jews of the fragility of their place in western societies. But
Blacks also know that they exist apart from the mainstream, and are likely
to be treated as marginal by the majority. Locke calls for co-operation
between Jews and Blacks in a constant need to challenge this majority to
live up to its claims of justice and equality.
Despite their separate existence, both Jews and Blacks have similar
histories of exploitation, discrimination and persecution. Both need to
stand guard against the facile optimism so often voiced that such things
belong in the past. “Never again” has become the watchword of many Holocaust
observers. Behind this remark is the fear that it could recur. But all of us
need to reflect on what can happen when racial hatred overwhelms a nation,
and the rest of the world is indifferent to the outcome.
In combating such dangerous forces, Black Americans have for two centuries
borrowed heavily from the Jewish Biblical tradition and have been nurtured
on the notion that their history parallels that of the ancient Israelites.
They frequently share with Jews a social vision designed to advance the
cause of civil rights and social justice. But the issue of identity still
remains. While Jews can in fact choose to renounce their minority status,
one who is Black can never choose not to be so.
At the present time, the success of the Jewish community in North America is
making it difficult to maintain the link with the Holocaust victims of sixty
years ago, or to persuade non-Jews that Jews deserve special consideration
as a result. Some Blacks are particularly suspicious that this is a
misplaced emotion, especially when the fact of their own victimization is
much more pervasive and still felt daily. The Holocaust, so long ago and so
far away, is thus likely to become a non-problem, even for some Jews. But
overcoming this loss of historical consciousness, is a problem for Jews and
others alike.
For sixty years debate has continued as to whether the Holocaust was a
unique event, or to be regarded as the latest outrage in the long history of
man’s inhumanity to man. Locke warns against this latter stance. The Nazi
regime was the most genocidal in world history. By enfolding the Holocaust
indiscriminately in the sordid story of other modern human tragedies, we
could easily fail to learn from its especial history. In particular, one
lesson stands out: the Nazi state was the first to mobilize its entire
resources in a successful attempt to control, and, if desired, to destroy
the life of the individual citizen. It systematically and deliberately
overthrew the moral barriers built up over centuries to preserve the value
of individual life. Instead both bureaucracy and technology were harnessed
for the Nazis’ infamous racial purposes. Once the Nazis had shown that this
could be done, the temptation remains for other tyrannies to do the same. As
Locke says, these are chilling lessons.
Another lesson is to have a chastened view of patriotism. The Nazis’ ability
to cover their crimes behind the cloak of nationalism was matched by the
failure of so many Germans, especially in the churches, to see that
patriotism was not enough. Only a small handful of German Protestants, as
early as 1934, recognized that their first loyalty should be to God, not the
State. “We reject the false doctrine that the State, over and beyond its
special commission, should and could become the single and totalitarian
order of human life”. A brave statement, but alas! often compromised under
the pressures of inflated nationalism. Accusations of national disloyalty
kept almost all dissenters in line. And intimidated by incessant propaganda,
these church leaders limited their protests to their own immediate horizons.
They failed to stand up for the Jews because they did not belong in the
Christians’ circle of obligation. But an equal failure was the readiness to
accept the Nazi definition of nationalism as paramount in their political
behaviour.
How shall the lessons of the Holocaust be learnt? Especially now that the
number of survivors is rapidly diminishing. One misguided route is to
promote an artificial category of second or third generation “survivors”.
But this only encourages a sense of Jewish exclusiveness. What is needed,
Locke believes, is a readiness to overcome such parochialism and a
recognition that others too, especially Blacks, as well as Sinti and Native
Americans, have their own experience of communal suffering. This should
create a bond of sympathy, but too often we find only misunderstanding and
hostility. In recent years relations between Blacks and Jews in America have
deteriorated. The memory of the Holocaust has become a divisive rather than
a uniting factor. Locke seeks reconciliation lest both communities again
lose out to racial bigotry in the guise of political conservatism.
In his final chapter Locke takes up the problematical role of the churches
during the Holocaust. He rightly observes the difficulty of tackling this
subject without seeming to rationalize or to be defensive. Yet, having
studied this topic closely for forty years, he can with authority claim that
“it is an uncomfortable fact that the more one focuses the harsh and
unremitting light of scholarly enquiry on the churches and the Holocaust . .
the less definitive and declamatory one can be.” (p.102) To be sure, the
churches failed to do what, in the light of hindsight, we now feel they
should have done to help their Jewish neighbours. But Locke rightly stresses
that their principal failure was their unwillingness to abandon their
long-held theological prejudices against Jews, or to combat Nazi racism in
general. The German Christians’ support of such pernicious views is
impossible to overlook. Black Christians cannot forget that the Nazi
pseudo-anthropology, which placed ‘Aryans’ at the top of the human ladder,
set not Jews but Blacks at the very bottom. Only their absence from Europe
saved them from sharing the same fate. They are hence sensitively hurt when
they hear claims that the Holocaust was solely a Jewish event, or that no
one else suffered so much. For in fact Black Americans have always looked to
the Jewish people for a sympathetic understanding based on their common
experience of slavery, discrimination and oppression.
Jews and Blacks both face the danger of reductionism, when their stories of
suffering are simply dismissed, treated as irrelevant or relativized. But
the opposite tendency is also regrettable, when each victimized group seeks
to emphasize its misfortune and downplays that of others. The particularity
and authenticity of the Holocaust or of Black slavery is not an issue. But
building bridges of understanding requires a willingness to recognize
comparable occurrences. Locke hopes that the Christian churches, which have
resolutely begun the task of atoning for their past silence, and have
rethought their theologies towards both Jews and Blacks, can be allowed to
play a constructive role in the combating of racism and antisemitism. These
forces cannot be regarded as superseded. Rather, the Holocaust stands as a
grim reminder of the recent past and an eternal warning for the future.
JSC

1b) Bernd Schaefer, Staat und katholische Kirche in der DDR, (Schriften des
Hannah-Arendt-Instituts für Totalitarismusforschung, Bd 8),
Koeln/Weimar/Wien: Bohlau Verlag. 1998 501 pp ISBN 3-412-04598-5.
Josef Schmid, Kirchen, Staat und Politik in Dresden zwischen 1975 und 1989.
(Geschichte und Politik in Sachsen Bd 7), Koeln/Weimar/Wien Bohlau Verlag
1998
521 pp. ISBN 3-412-11497-9.
(This review is appearing on H-Soz-u-Kult)
Bernd Schaefer’s 500 page study of the complex relationship between for the
Communist regime and the Catholic Church in the German Democratic Republic
is a comprehensive and well researched account. He was, of course,
particularly fortunate that the overthrow of this unlamented government in
1989 led to the opening of its archives, such as those of the Party hierarchy, its secret police agency –
the Stasi – and of its Secretariat of Church Affairs, all virtually
complete. So too the Church authorities gave him permission to see their
papers. The contrast with the much more restricted access to the equivalent
sources for the western part of Germany is notable. Schaefer seized his
opportunity, and now builds on a series of preliminary findings published
earlier in articles.
He divides his material into five chapters each tackling roughly a decade,
but adopting the same format: first, a general analysis of the Communist
regime’s wider policies, then an account of the specific policies and
tactics towards the churches, and finally a description of the Catholic
Church’s response. As is already well known, the Catholic minority – never
more than ten percent of the population – was always on the defensive.
Despite an obvious sympathy for his fellow Catholics, Schaefer’s principal
stress is on the policies of those who organized the persecution, or more
latterly the restrictive obstruction, of the churches. He traces the various
stages from the initial outright determination to stamp out the churches
entirely to the later awareness of the impossibility of success. In contrast
to the similar practices adopted towards the Protestants, Schaefer makes the
good point that the Catholics were always more suspect because of their
links to the Vatican, and hence a disproportionate amount of the Stasi’s
resources were deployed against these alleged “puppets of revanchist
imperialism directed by the superstitious clique in Rome”.
This account is primarily written from the top downwards, so that the
leading Party officials and the members of the Church hierarchy take a
prominent place. But their interplay is well described. He also shows that
how well the Stasi was informed about church affairs, due to the diligence
of their agents, including several Catholic priests, or to secretly-planted
listening devices. “Der Forscher beginnt die Lektuere zunaechst als
distanzierten Voyeur, bis er selbst in zahlose Biographien aus allen Teilen
der DDR und die Perspektiven der MfS-“Fuehrungsoffiziere” unvermeidlich
hineingezogen wird”. (p.25)
The outlines of this cat and mouse story are now well known. Schaefer adds
the details of the campaign against the Catholics. The Communist ideological
onslaught could however at times be combined with a variety of tactics,
which only added to the churches’ difficulty in assessing the best response
to defend their interests. On the whole, the Catholics took refuge in
withdrawal into the sacristy, refusing to take part in the so-called
socialist remodeling of German society. This was a tactic for survival, and
held at bay some of the ham-handed attempts either to seduce the church
leaders into approving “real existing socialism”, or to recruit agents for
the Stasi.
Following the Second Vatican Council, some progressive Catholics wanted to
risk a more positive encounter. But neither the Catholic hierarchy nor the
regime’s authorities encouraged such behaviour, and suppressed it as long as
they could. Not until the late 1980s did the Catholics begin to join the
Protestants in giving support to those antagonistic policies which in the
end brought the regime crashing down.
Josef Schmid’s account of the Churches’ political stances in Dresden chooses
a regional study for the final years of the GDR regime, but covers in more
depth many of the themes in Schaefer’s book. He takes issue with one-sided,
monocausal and moralistic treatments, such as those of Gerhard Besier. At
the same time, he devotes more space to the affairs of the local
congregations, both Catholic and Protestant, and thus usefully complements
Schaefer’s study. And. not surprisingly, Schmid emphasizes the leading role
of the Saxon Protestant Church, whose leader Johannes Hempel was a towering
figure not only in his own church but on the wider world ecumenical stage.
Dresden became an important centre already in the early 1980s for church
activities seeking to mobilize a following for “peace action”. The leaders
rediscovered the resources for Christian pacifism, despite its long absence
>from Lutheran theology. They sought thereby to provide a focus against the
Communists’ propagation of militarism, and to be a part of the wider protest
against the regime’s totalitarian control.
Schmid gives an excellent and full account of these struggles, skillfully
blending his sources, similarly drawn from the Party, Church, State and
secret police archives.
At the same time he clearly outlines the dilemmas of the church authorities,
discouraging open political provocation while insisting on the biblical
basis for any protest. But in 1988 and 1989 this balancing act gave way to a
more open espousal of the Church’s political witness and opposition to the
regime, especially, in Dresden, on ecological questions. At last, the
Catholic Church emerged from its reticent stance. But Schmid also makes
clear that the Churches’ involvement, though significant, cannot be seen as
the main instigator of the regime’s downfall. There still remained, and
indeed still today remain, too many theological reservations within the
churches’ ranks, so that their political witness can only be described as an
adjunct to the revolutionary events of 1989. But Schmid’s account is an
impressively solid piece of research.
JSC

2) Book Notes: Markus Eikel, Französische Katholiken im Dritten Reich. Die
religiöse Betreuung der französischen Kriegsgefangenen und Zwangsarbeiter
1940-1945. Freiburg-im-Breisgau: Rombach Verlag 1999. 330 pp. Mgr.Charles
Molette, Resistances chretiennes a la nazification des esprits, Paris: F.-X.
de Guilbert 1998, 258 pp
Prisoners-of-war, unless they build escape tunnels or fantastic railway
bridges, are unglamorous. Hence their life of boredom, deprivation and exile
is largely forgotten. Markus Eikel deserves much credit for shedding light
on one attempt to relieve the plight of those thousands of French soldiers
who were carried off to Germany after the defeat of their nation in 1940.
The French Catholic hierarchy, though politically divided about the German
occupation and about collaboration, sought to provide chaplaincy services
for their countrymen, and had some limited successes with the German
military authorities. Much riskier was the attempt to provide the same
chaplaincy to the equally large numbers of French civilians, conscripted for
labour in Germany. Special priests secretly worked in German cities for
months, even years, until caught and sent to concentration camps, The
ruthlessness of the Gestapo, the dilemmas of the French bishops, and the
courage of these chaplains/worker-priests are fully and excellently
described. It is a heroic tale, hitherto unknown. All the more creditable
for being told by a young German scholar.

Fr Molette’s extended essay seeks to pay tribute to those French Christians,
priests, religious and laity, who fought Nazism primarily for spiritual
reasons. He believes that too often their struggles have been overlooked or
ignored, in favour of those motivated for purely political reasons. He too
focusses on the witness of Catholics in German camps, whose determination to
maintain their religious practices and beliefs frequently led to their
murder. Their memorial is unalterable and inalienable. In appendices,
Molette prints some moving contemporary documents, showing how faith was
maintained in those dark days.
JSC

3) Journal issues: a) Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte, Vol 13, no 1, 2000
The latest issue of our “house journal” is devoted the themes of Catholicism
and Protestantism during the Third Reich and in the post-war years,
principally in Germany. It is notable that three of the eight articles are
in English. Manfred Gailus gives a succint summary of his recent book on the
political stances of the Berlin clergy and laity during the Third Reich,
examining the various factors which led to daggers drawn between the “German
Christians” and the Confessing Church. He looks at the clergy’s biographies
and careers, theological orientations and war experiences as causes of the
unbridgeable positions adopted in 1933.
The late Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, in a significant lecture given
shortly before her death, describes the career of Edith Stein and outlines
the dilemma of doing justice to her as both a Catholic Christian and a
member of the Jewish people. She draws attention to the danger of making
Edith Stein’s canonization by the Catholic Church an alibi for its failure
to stand up for her and her fellow Christians of Jewish origin.
Alternatively making her a saint is not to be misconstrued as setting an
example for other Jews to convert. Instead Edith Stein’s attempts to build
bridges between the two faiths, and her resolute warnings of the dangers to
Catholics of the dangers of racial hatred remain a significant legacy.
Ronald Webster of York University, Toronto, gives a highly critical, indeed
scorching, account of the career of a Pastor of the Palatinate Evangelical
Church, whom he describes as an ardent nationalist and sometime antisemite,
who succumbed to the wiles of radical nationalism and eventually of aspects
of Nazism. Yet, in the post-war years, he sought to re-establish himself as
a heroic resistor to Nazi tyranny, denying his previous stances, and
engaging in the kind of self-pitying outbursts so common at that time.
Nicholas Railton contributes the remarkable story of the ministry exercised
by a Missouri Lutheran pastor, Henry Gerecke, from central USA, to the major
war criminals during their imprisonment in Nuremberg from 1945-6. His
research is largely based on Gerecke’s monthly reports, now deposited in the
US National Archives. The American army chaplains were given the
responsibility of providing chaplaincy services to these men, 15 of whom
were Protestants and 6 Catholics. Despite Gerecke’s limited knowledge of
German, he established a notable relationship with these major figures from
the Nazi hierarchy, such as Goering, Ribbentrop, Fritzsche and Keitel. His
sincerity and simple humbleness, completely avoiding any political
involvement, but concentrating solely on the need for repentance before the
Lord, earned him a high regard from the prisoners. Their willingness to
accept him as a Christian pastor, and to attend the simple services he
organized in a makeshift chapel, says a lot about his faithful witness. As a
result he could claim to have seen God working in the hearts of these
convicted criminals before their executions, which did not of course imply
any sympathy for their past misdeeds.
Dianne Kirby has given us a further installment from what is presumably her
forthcoming book on the political involvement of the Church of England at
the beginning of the Cold War. She describes how the British Foreign Office
officials were eager to recruit the leaders of the Church of England in the
construction of an anti-Communist ideological campaign. This seemed to
promise to go over better with the wider public than merely concentrating on
political or economic measures. And to this end, highly placed and
conservative leaders in the bureaucracy appealed to like-minded Anglicans
and provided them with information not otherwise available, to be circulated
for this propagandistic purpose. Kirby is critical of Bishop George Bell for
accepting such steps, as showing a lack of sufficient caution towards the
infiltration of the secular state. On the other hand, Bell was surely moved
by the experience of the 1930s when the danger of Nazi totalitarianism had
been so grossly underestimated. In the end, she concludes, the Church of
England provided a fertile soil in which hard-line anti-Communism could be
sown. The churches’ support “contributed significantly to the
intensification of the Cold War, as well as to the transformation of
Christian leaders into Cold War warriors and the transmogrification of
Christianity into a political doctrine”.
Students of Bonhoeffer will want to turn to the essay, written in memory of
Eberhard Bethge, by H-W Krumwiede on Bonhoeffer’s struggle against the
persecution of the Jews. This recapitulates Bethge’s previous summary of
Bonhoeffer’s position, which was percipiently outspoken in 1933 in
protesting the antisemitic mistreatment of Jews by the Nazis, but still used
language suggesting he maintained the anti-judaic stance of earlier
theologians. Subsequently Bonhoeffer was clearly in advance of the majority
of his colleagues in rethinking this attitude, but no clearly thought-out
statement of any pro-jewish stance survives. Krumwiede suggests that
Bonhoeffer’s part in the conspiracy to replace Hitler after 1938 made it
impossible to expect any such utterance. Nevertheless Bonhoeffer combined
both the insight early on to warn the church against the perils of Jew
hatred, and the courage to take up arms. Both in word and deed, he deserves
the memorial as a twentieth century martyr now placed over the door of
Westminster Abbey.
JSC

4) New Journal. The first issue of a new journal
Religion-Staat-Gesellschaft, published by Duncker & Humblot, Berlin, and
edited in Heidelberg by our good friend and colleague, Gerhard Besier, is
now to hand. Besier’s ten year’s editorship of Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte
will undoubtedly be of great help in launching this new venture, which is
designed to take a less historical, and more presentist, political stance,
and a broader mandate in covering all faith communities. It too is designed
to be at least bilingual, and the majority of the articles in this first
issue are in English. They include James Beckford: Religion, State and
Prison; M Introvigne, Freedom of religion in Europe; James Richardson,
Minority Faiths and Religious Freedom in Israel, Bassam Tibi, Secularization
and De-Secularization in Islam, while Besier himself contributes a
stimulating article on Neopaganism in the Nazi Reich. This new venture would
appear not to have any connection with a similarly named journal published
by the Keston community on Oxford, Religion, State and Society, now in its
28th year. So we shall have to hope that there is room for both ventures to
succeed. More information can be obtained from Frl.Piombo, Kisselgasse 1,
69117 Heidelberg, Germany.

5) Journal articles:
Mark Chapman, Anglo-German Theological relations during the First World War,
Journal for the History of Modern Theology, Vol 7, 2000, 109-126.
This article describes the course of personal relations between influential
theologians in Germany and England immediately before and during the First
World War. Despite the tense relations between the two countries some of
these contacts were maintained, although they became much more tenuous
during the course of the war. This article outlines the rhetorical attacks
launched by some Anglo-Catholic theologians against liberal theology of
German origin. The war in fact caused an increased and unprecedented
outburst against liberal theologians. After the war, this was the factor
which most of all caused the breach in relations between the two nations’
theologians. Two results followed: one the one hand, it led to a dominant
position for Anglo-Catholicism, and on the other to the development of a
specifically English variety of liberal theology, unaffected by what was
happening on the continent. Apart from certain notable exceptions, it would
seem that any fruitful and lively dialogue came to an end after the death of
Willliam Sanday.
[see also Stephen Sykes, England and Germany. Studies in theological
diplomacy]
Peter Lodberg, The Nordic Churches and the Ecumenical Movement, Ecumenical
Review, Vol 52, no 2, April 2000, p137ff
Thomas Wieser, Reviewing ecumenical history, Ecumenical Review, Vol 52, no
2, April 2000, p 246ff This piece is in fact a review of two German books,
difficult to obtain and hence little known: ed A.Boyens, G.Besier,
G.Lindemann, Nationaler Protestantismus und Oekumene, Berlin: Duncker und
Humblot 1999, and Der Oekumenische Rat der Kirchen in der Konflikten des
kalten Kriegs, Frankfurt : Lembach 2000
Mark Chapman, Mandell Creighton’s Theological History, Journal of
Theological Studies,Vol 51, no 2, October 2000
Mandell Creighton was Bishop of Peterborough and then London at the end of
the nineteenth century. He believed that a recognition of human finitude was
part of the inner logic of the Christian faith. Hence he advocated a humble
and tolerant pluralism and attacked the dogmatism of so mnay of his fellow
clergy and countrymen His ideas about the Church of England led him to
oppose both Ultramontanism and individualistic Protestant sectarianism.
Detachment rather than involvement was the proper stance for a historian.
Creighton therefore opposed much of the myth-making about Anglican history,
which was being actively pursued during his life-time.
Manfred Weitlauff, Adolf von Harnack, Theodor Mommsen,Martin Rade,
Zeitschrift fuer Kirchengeschichte, Vol 111, no 2 (2000)
This extended 46-page review of three recent publications provides a
comprehensive look at the present scholarly views about Adolf von Harnack
and his association with Mommsen and Rade. The reputation of these three
giants of the late nineteenth century German theology declined precipitously
after 1918, and has hardly yet recovered. But Professor Weitlauff, of Munich
University, gives us a good insight of the significant issues they sought to
address, and recommends three new books to assist us in gaining a new
evaluation of their contribution: Adolf von Harnack als Zeitgenosse. Reden
und Schriften aus den Jahren des Kaiserreichs und der Weimarer Republik,
edited and introduced by Kurt Nowak, 2 Vols, Berlin/New York: Walter de
Gruyter 1996;
Stefan Rebenich, Theodor Mommsen und Adolf Harnack, Berlin/New York: Walter
de Gruyter 1997; Der Briefwechsel zwischen Adolf von Harnack und Martin
Rade. Theologie auf dem oeffentlichen Markt, edited and commented by Johanna
Jantsch, Berlin,/New York: Walter de Gruyter 1996.

With best wishes
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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January 2001 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- January 2001- Vol. VII, no. 1
 

Dear Friends,
A very warm welcome to you all for the New Year. I trust your endeavours
will be successful and productive as we begin the new century, and I look
forward to being in touch, both personally and technologically, with as many
of you as possible in the coming months.

Contents:
1) Book Reviews:

a) J.Stayer, Martin Luther, German Saviour
b) G.Lindemann, “Typisch jüdisch” Die Stellung der Hannoversche Kirche zu
Antijudaismus
c) M.Brenner et al. eds, Two nations. British and Geman Jews in Comparative
Perspectives.

2) The Fascist repression of Jehovah’s Witnesses

1a) James Stayer, Martin Luther, German Saviour. German Evangelical
Theological Faculties and the Interpretation of Luther, 1917-1933. Montreal
and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. 2000 177pp.
James Stayer’s admirable study is written expressly for an English-speaking
Protestant audience. His self-stated purpose is to provide this readership
with a historical understanding of German Lutheranism in the 1920s, when the
passions engendered by the First World War led Luther studies to become a
battleground for such eminent Protestant scholars and theologians as Karl
Holl, Karl Barth, Paul Althaus and Emanuel Hirsch. According to Stayer, a
professor of Reformation History at Queen’s University in Kingston, Canada,
English-speaking scholars have failed to give sufficient attention to the
influence of nationalist and anti-liberal sentiments so prominent in
Lutheran circles during the First World War and in the aftermath of November
1918 revolution. He now successfully overcomes this deficit.
The early years of the Weimar republic have long been recognized as a
particularly contentious period for German Lutheran theology. Stayer
identifies three Evangelical theological orientations that flourished after
the war: the Luther Renaissance (Karl Holl, Emanuel Hirsch, and Erich
Vogelsang), Dialectical Theology (Karl Barth and Friedrich Gogarten), and
Lutheran confessionalism (Werner Elert and Paul Althaus). Although these
“schools” were often harshly critical of each other and disagreements raged
within each school, they did hold some common assumptions, most importantly
that nineteenth-century theological liberalism and Kulturprotestantismus,
which had sought an accommodation between Christianity and
nineteenth-century German culture, in particular bourgeois individualism,
were now theologically bankrupt. Despite the frequent criticism of their
liberal predecessors, Stayer insists that lines of continuity did exist
between prewar theologians and their postwar critics. Nevertheless, his
primary focus is on the radical shift that took place in the Protestant
scholarly community, a shift from the emphasis on church history and a
historicist theology to systematic and dogmatic theology.
The task of revitalizing and systematizing Luther’s theology in the wake of
a century of Kulturprotestantismus acquired greater urgency with the
outbreak of the First World War. “Against the background of war and defeat”,
Stayer declares, “the academic enterprise of rehabilitating Luther became
the search for a German saviour” (117). Men of the Luther Renaissance, the
dialectical theologians and the Lutheran confessionalists all held the
leading figures of nineteenth-century Protestant thought – Albrecht Ritschl,
Adolf von Harnack, and Ernst Troeltsch – responsible for leaving Luther
vulnerable to attack by Catholics, liberals, socialists and Jews. These
theologians had failed not only to understand the radical nature of Luther’s
theology of justification by faith but also to recognize, as Holl
maintained, that Luther’s “Rechtfertigungslehre was God’s special revelation
to the Germans”. (123)
Karl Holl emphasized the special sense of community in the German Lutheran
tradition, He was therefore particularly critical of Ernst Troeltsch’s
celebration of modernity, pluralism, and the Anglo-American model of
democracy. His former student, Emanuel Hirsch, further radicalized the
notion of community by infusing it with extreme nationalist and völkisch
ideas. Hirsch’s community was the German nation-state, “built on family and
tribe [and as such] a natural order of God’s creation” (106). Holl, and
later Hirsch, connected what they believed to be God’s special revelation to
the Germans to the moral superiority of German culture. Although Barth
sought to overcome the problems of Kulturprotestantismus from the left and
Holl and Hirsch from the right, they shared a common desire to replace an
individual soteriology with a theology of community. They believed that
Luther’s theology of justification could be understood and accessed only by
way of a theology of community since justification was God’s bestowing his
love on man in the community.
For his part, Karl Barth stressed the “dialectical, paradoxical,
Kierkegaardian Luther” (63). God, for Barth, was an inaccessible mystery. To
claim that human morality had anything to do with God, as Holl did, was
sheer hubris. Barth believed that Dialectical Theology was a much-needed
restoration of the theology of the Reformers in light of the liberal
theologians’ acceptance of the self-satisfied bourgeois culture and its
comfortable synthesis with Christianity. Although Barth’s theocentric
repudiation of Kulturprotestantismus had much in common with Holl, he
rejected outright in his 1922 edition of the Epistle to the Romans the
possibility of regenerative soteriology, which “gave too much glory to the
human creature (58-9). The nineteenth-century search for God in history and
culture was necessarily a failure because God sought humanity, not the other
way round. “Let God be God”, Barth thundered. By contrast, the Lutheran
confessionalists insisted that the vehicle of divine revelation was human,
historical and contingent. Werner Elert, for instance, maintained that
revelation for Luther was “the entry of God into history, not the negation
of history” (85). Moreover Elert’s and Althaus’s völkisch-nationalist
political sympathies, which were at least as reactionary as Hirsch’s, spelt
out how they understood God’s revelations in history. Althaus maintained
that the state, the church, the family and the nation (das Volk), were all
revelations of God’s law and examples of the order of creation designed by
God. Lutheran confessionalists expressly used this “orders of creation”
theology to fortify conservative, nationalist, and patriarchal views against
the moral licentiousness of Weimar modernism and the theological critiques
of Catholics and Calvinists. The reactionary politics of Elert and Althaus,
Stayer believes, led to a greater distortion of Luther’s theology,
especially after Hitler came to power in 1933, than those of Holl, Barth or
Hirsch – all of whom were guilty of embellishment.
For the non-German audience Stayer’s study provides essential insights into
the complex motivation of early twentieth-century theologians in their
effort to rejuvenate and strengthen Martin Luther’s singular contributions
to Christian thought. Although elements of Stayer’s thesis will be familiar
to scholars of early twentieth-century German theology, whether native
English-speakers or not, this slim volume debunks any lingering myths that
the period collectively known as the Luther Remaissance was a mere scholarly
exercise. For most German Protestants it was an expression of national
patriotism – and for that they should be embarrassed.
Matthew Hockenos, Skidmore College

b) Gerhard Lindemann, “Typisch jüdisch”: Die Stellung der Ev.-luth.
Landeskirche Hannovers zu Antijudaismus, Judenfeindschaft und Antisemitismus
1919-1949. (Schriftenreihe der Gesellschaft für Deutschlandforschung, Bd
63). Berlin: Duncker und Humblot. 1998 1037 pp. DM 138
This review first appeared in the Catholic Historical Review, Vol LXXXVI, no
3, July 2000, p. 525-7.
This is an intimidating book. Its size alone is daunting: over a thousand
pages long, it includes 155 pages of sources and indices. According to the
foreword, the book is a lightly revised dissertation (Heidelberg, 1997);
5000-plus footnotes attest to these origins. The title deepens the potential
reader’s sense of dread. Gerhard Lindemann’s ironic use of the stereotype
“typisch jüdisch” – “typically Jewish” – shows his hand. His study of
>anti-Jewishness and anti-Semitism in the Protestant church of Hanover, he
signals, will emphasize Christian prejudice, ecclesiastical failure, and
continuity. In other words, Lindemann’s book promises to be relentless,
convincing, and profoundly depressing. Those who read it will discover that
it delivers in all three regards. At the same time, it offers a nuanced,
human account of Protestant church life in Germany across three decades.
Although regional in focus, Lindemann’s study resonates beyond the borders
of the Hanoverian Protestant church. Anyone interested in Christian
anti-Semitism, German Jewry, Nazi genocide, or religious conversion and
exclusion in the twentieth century can learn much here.
Some of the most shocking parts of the book involve developments before and
after Nazi rule. Lindemann devotes eighty pages to the case of the Lutheran
pastor Ludwig Münchmeyer, who during the 1920s used his pulpit and his local
following to keep Jews off the North Sea island of Borkum. Only after
violent clashes between supporters and detractors of the anti-Semitic
clergyman, intervention by state authorities, and a series of court cases
did the Hanoverian Protestant church take disciplinary action. Münchmeyer’s
anti-Catholicism, sexually offensive behaviour, and an exodus of members of
his congregation from the Protestant church added ammunition against him –
and worried church authorities more than did attacks on Jews. Still,
Münchmeyer kept his position and his “Pastor” title until 1926.
Lindemann’s reluctance to generalize can make reading even such intriguing
material frustrating. Nevertheless, his discussion of the situation on
Borkum reveals some significant tendencies within the Protestant leadership:
fear of public disruption or scandal; acceptance of anti-Semitic
stereotypes; and general weakness of will to defend the downtrodden. Those
failings, troublesome enough in the Weimar Republic, would prove fatal in
the Nazi era.
Most of Lindemann’s book addresses the experiences of Christians of Jewish
background in Hanover from 1933 to 1945. He treats this topic with
sensitivity and empathy. Careful to avoid anachronistic and offensive labels
such as “Jewish Christians” or “baptized Jews”, he offers precision and a
wealth of biographical detail. Lindemann zeroes in on key individuals,
notably the pastors Paul Leo in Osnabrück, Bruno Benfey in Göttingen, and
Rudolf Gurland in Meine/Gifhorn, to show how Nazi measures against people
defined as Jews affected the lives and livelihoods of Christian clergymen
with Jewish ancestry.
These men’s stories differ greatly in the details but share overwhelmingly
similar themes of persecution, humiliation, desperation, and betrayal. Both
Leo and Benfey were forced out of their positions after the 1935 Nuremberg
Laws. Local anti-Semites made trouble because of the men’s Jewish ancestry;
instead of providing protection, church authorities retired the pastors.
Gurland, an ethnic German from Vilna, lasted longer, but in the wake of
Kristallnacht in 1938, he too was forced to retire, as was a fourth pastor
of Jewish background, namely Gustav Oehlert in Rinteln. Like many clergy,
for a brief time in 1933, Oehlert belonged to the pro-National Socialist,
Protestant “German Christian Movement” (p.584). Nevertheless, Nazi activists
demanded dismissal, and church leaders agreed.
Lindemann’s close-up, personal approach highlights both the everyday routine
of persecution and the banal, self-serving motivations of those who
perpetrated and tolerated Nazi attacks. Hanover’s Protestant bishop, August
Marahrens, revealed in the works of Gerhard Besier and others as far from
the staunch anti-Nazi many once considered him to be, is ubiquitous in
Lindemann’s study. We see Marahrens sympathize in private with his
beleaguered clergy of Jewish background and then abandon them in public,
presumably in the interest of maintaining peace in the church and preserving
good relations with the state. Even after the war, he did nothing to restore
Leo, Benfey, and Gurland to their positions, or to acknowledge publicly the
wrongs done them. Only Oehlert received a post; the others, it seems, were
considered too likely to be lightning rods. Human weakness, Lindemann’s
analysis suggests, will go to extraordinary lengths to prevent its own
exposure.
For all its sobering predictability, Lindemann’s account is never
simplistic. He takes pains throughout the book to show that countervoices to
anti-Semitic brutality existed at every step. “Ordinary Germans”, he shows,
assaulted their neighbours of Jewish background, but sometimes they also
defended them. Many Protestant pastors were indifferent to the fate of their
colleagues of Jewish ancestry, but some supported them courageously.
Including such examples of fortitude serves at least two functions. On the
one hand, it counters the monolithic, Goldhagian image of the “uniquely” –
and uniformly – German anti-Semite. But on the other hand, it pulls the rug
out from under one of the most widely used excuses for German – and
Christian – inaction in the face of Nazi persecution of Jews and other
targets: “we did not know”. Doris Bergen, University of Notre Dame
c)) Michael Brenner, Rainer Liedtke and David Rechter, eds., Two Nations:
British and German Jews in Comparative Perspective (Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck,
1999).
This book was published under the auspices of the Leo Baeck Institute and
comprises a compilation of papers from the conference Two Nations: The
Historical Experience of British and German Jews in Comparison in Cambridge
(1997). Contributors were asked to draw on a comparative methodology and
contrast the Jewish Diaspora experience in Britain and Germany during the
modern period. This informative scholarly contribution ranges from
Jewish-Gentile relations in different political cultures, post-emancipation
Jewish identity to post-Holocaust debates on Jewish heritage preservation.
With two exceptions, all essays are commented on by fellow scholars who
critically examine and reevaluate the authors’ arguments. The dialogical
framework makes for an evenly balanced account that is both an excellent
overview and an invitation to further probe the issues at stake. The editors
point out that they are interested in contesting prevailing notions of the
common experience of the Jewish Diaspora: acculturation, emancipation (legal
equality), and assimilation. Yet this Anglo-German comparison has a far more
ambitious scope: it raises the question why anti-Jewish sentiments remained
latent in Britain, and escalated into virulent exterminationist
anti-Semitism in Germany.
With such a far-reaching theme in mind, these essays seldom offer
fundamentally new insights. However, they also skillfully avoid what could
have easily become the downfall of a transnational comparison: to portray
Britain as the honorable norm and Germany as the evil aberration. Referring
to Daniel Goldhagen, David Cesarani thus rejects a mindset that places
teleological stereotypes of exemplars of tolerance versus willing
executioners. Instead, he and his fellow scholars carefully shed light on a
difficult and complex issue without reducing it, as Tony Kushner laments, to
exercises in “polarized mythmaking.” The majority of essays reflect on the
relationship between Jewish social groups and institutions and state power.
One of the central questions is to what extent Jewish emancipation was
imposed by external circumstances or internally developed such as in the
case of the Haskalah (the German Jewish Enlightenment). David Feldman
challenges current Anglo-Jewish historiographers who portray the
relationship between the Jews and the state as one-sided, the Jews being
passively receptive. In his view, particularly between 1850 and 1900, Jews
in Britain successfully negotiated with the political establishment. An
essential point is raised by one of the editors, Rainer Liedtke, who writes
on the 19th century Jewish welfare systems in Hamburg and Manchester. His
analysis convincingly suggests that the degree of Jewish social integration
cannot be measured solely in terms of political or legal success. He
maintains that in establishing “a class-based solidarity” on the community
level, Jewish welfare was instrumental in solidifying a collective Jewish
identity, or “subculture.”
In one of the more provocative essays, “Comparing Antisemitism: A Useful
Exercise?,” Tony Kushner compares collectively held stereotypes and myths in
everyday life. In his view, anti-Semitism is a “cultural code” that provides
us with meaningful data from “lived experience.” He stresses “the importance
of subjectivity in ordinary people’s attitudes towards Jews”. At the same
time, he questions the legitimacy of a comparative approach: It is in the
voices of “ordinary” people that the reader can find “a comparative model .
. . with valuable and lasting insights.” A truly fascinating article is
“Jewish Self-Hatred in Britain and Germany” by Todd M. Endelman. The author
criticizes the academic over-exposure and misappropriation of the term
‘Jewish self-hatred’. Instead, he provides a differentiated cultural history
that contextualizes the causes and results of ethnic self-loathing. Most
enlightening are his examples of two prominent statesmen: Walther Rathenau
and Edwin Montagu. The articles by Liedtke, Kushner, and Endelman belong to
a minority employing interdisciplinary strategies and focusing on
Alltagsgeschichte. “Two Nations” largely deals with elites, social policies
and organized Jewish movements. The emphasis is predominantly historical as
only nine out of 26 authors are affiliated with other departments than
history.
I am not quite sure whether this compilation should have limited itself to
Germany and Britain. What can be gained from such a polarized and narrow
comparison? Gunnar Svante Paulsson emphasizes that little research has been
done on the cultural exchange between the Western and the Eastern Jewry. If
we consider that beginning in around 1880, immigration from East Europe
increased the number of Jews living in Britain from 60,000 to 300,000, it
would be worthwhile to explore how those communities interacted with one
another. Since an extensive migration took place from the former Soviet
Union into Germany after 1989, a comparison could be potentially revealing.
Moreover, I would take serious issue with the fact that the majority of
contributions are by male scholars who have ignored the field of gender
studies. Within this body of works, Susan L. Tananbaum is the sole
contributor who brings attention to a socially unique phenomenon in Imperial
Germany: the Jewish Feminist Organization, the Judischer Frauenbund (JFB),
which was founded in 1904 by Bertha Pappenheim. Considering that as many as
twenty five percent of eligible German Jewish women were members, this
organization is a valuable resource about female self-understanding
vis-a-vis Jewish and non-Jewish environments. Ironically, it is the only
essay (apart from the concluding piece by Bernd Weisbrod) that remains
uncommented. Further, it is puzzling to me that this volume would exclude
perspectives on Jewish domestic life and community structures, as well as on
Jewish Orthodoxy. An approach that stresses “the Jewish experience” seems
elitist and top-down, if not to say flawed, if it fails to include the
experience of the other half of what constitutes a Jewish community. On the
same note, it needs to be pointed out that, apart from Kushner, the question
of how Jewish people understood their Jewishness is only marginally
addressed. The reluctance to tackle this issue might be related to Werner E.
Mosse’s uneasiness with the concept of identity. In his introductory remarks
he contends that “identity” is “a pretentious and fashionable post-Freudian
term, [that] is of comparatively little use in historical discourse.” Yet I
was even more surprised that the editors treated the post-Holocaust period
almost merely within the realm of Jewish heritage preservation. Little
mention is made of the Second Generation, and not one essay deals with the
current debates on the political instrumentalization of Holocaust memorials.
Although “Two Nations” does only partial justice to the notion of a “Jewish
experience,” given its caliber of scholarship and wealth of information, it
is a welcome addition to the fields of Jewish Studies and minority studies.
Charlotte Schallie, Vancouver
2) The Fascist Repression of Jehovah’s Witnesses
Jehovah’s Witnesses began their preaching work in Italy at the turn of the
century. Their first community was founded at Pinerolo (Torino) in 1908. In
1925, their first convention was held there at Pinerolo where, just a few
years earlier, they had opened an office. There was small expansion in the
1920’s and 1930’s, when the Witnesses spread to various provinces including
Sondrio, Aosta, Ravenna, Vincenza, Trento, Benevento, Avellino, Foggia, L’
Aquila, Pescara and Teramo.
The first mention of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ existence in Italy’s official
archives is the decree of the Military Court of Alessandria concerning
Remigio Cuminetti, a Witness who refused military service during World War
I, becoming the first conscientious objector of modern Italy.1
Examining papers regarding Jehovah’s Witnesses in the State Record Office,
we find some interesting items. There are documents dating from 1927:
statements from the Prefect of the Department of the Interior; information
>from the Department itself, from various Prefects, and from the
Superintendent of Police; reports from the O.V.R.A. (the notorious Fascist
police department); information about house searches and interrogations,
etc. All of these are of concern not only to Jehovah’s Witnesses, but also
to the many who show interest in and respect for their upright way of life.
What, then, was the reason for such intensive scrutiny and careful record
keeping? It was to prevent Jehovah’s Witnesses from introducing their
publications into Italy. In Italy, as in Germany, this religious group was
looked upon with grave concern because of its pacifism (members chose to
refuse military service), its political neutrality, and its dislike of any
form of totalitarianism. Investigations were made into any citizens who had
even taken a subsc

ription to the ‘Watchtower’, the Witnesses’ main
magazine.2
Eventually, the O.V.R.A. managed to identify all the members of the Italian
group, about 150-200 Jehovah’s Witnesses, many of whom were condemned to
prison or sent into forced residence for allegedly plotting against the
Fascist regime. In fact, the Witnesses were often forced to live in secluded
villages in the south of Italy, villages that were freed by the allies
before September, 1943, allowing them to avoid deportation. This spared many
>from the Nazi concentration camps, where most of the Italian prisoners went.
In spite of this, not all managed to avoid the Holocaust. Salvatore Doria
>from Cerignola was not released from Civitavecchia’s prison after the 8th of
September. Guilty of ‘insulting the king,’ he was transferred to Sulmona’s
Abbey, then deported to Dachau’s hell.3 Narciso Riet of Cernobbio was
responsible for contact between the Italian and German Witnesses. He was
arrested after the armistice and taken first to Dachau, then to Plotzensee
Prison in Berlin. There, in November 1944, he was informed that the Court of
Justice had condemned him to death. He was moved to Brandenburg Prison, and
shot in early 1945. 4
No other religious group during the Resistance period was so affected by the
Fascist regime; Jehovah’s Witnesses had been the most persecuted, and was
practically the only group brought before the Special Fascist Court. The
Court had condemned 26 Witnesses to prison terms from 2 to 11 years, for a
combined total of 186 years and 10 months. (Sentence n.50 of April 19,
1940). An examination of the volume “Aula IV – Tutti i Processi del
Tribunale Speciale Fascista” [“Fourth Courtroom – All Trials of the Special
Fascist Court”]). A collection of all trials held by the above-mentioned
Court, shows that apart from two Pentecostals, only the 26 Jehovah’s
Witnesses were condemned.5
Those 26 were not the only ones affected, however. After the O.V.R.A.’s
investigations and its related proposal, 22 other people considered
‘dangerous’ were sent into forced exile from their homes, 29 ‘not
particularly active’ were given warnings, and 60 ‘simple followers’ were
treated with distrust. The entire group of 137 Witnesses was criminalized.6
Examining a circular promulgated by the Department of Interior during the
Fascist period brings us to the same conclusion: Jehovah’s Witnesses were
the main object of religious persecution during the Fascist regime. That
circular, n.441\027713 of August 22, 1939, was entitled “Religious Sects,
‘Pentecostals’ and Others”. In it, booklets that had been sequestered were
claimed to belong to the “sect of the Pentecostals,” though the circular
also precisely stated those booklets contained no reference to the
Pentecostals!7 Well then, whose literature was it? It was published by the
Watchtower Society; written by its president, J.F. Rutherford (Rutherford
had not as yet been recognized as director/ publisher of the Society’s
publications). Clearly, Jehovah’s Witnesses were already victims of Fascist
persecution.
Another circular, entitled n.441\02977 of March 13,1940, recognized the
victims by name: “Religious Sect of ‘Jehovah’s Witnesses’ or Bible Students
and Other Religious Sects Which Have Principles in Contrast with Our
Institution.” It discussed the “exact identification of those religious
sects…that differ from the already known sect of the ‘Pentecostals'”,
underlining “the verification of the existence of the sect of the ‘Jehovah’s
Witnesses’ and the fact that the literature we have already examined in the
above mentioned circular of the 22nd August 1939
n. 441\027713, is attributed to them, must not cause one to think that the
sect of the ‘Pentecostals’ is politically harmless…such a sect must be
considered harmful, even th
There is proof that the clergy played a definite role in contributing to the
persecution of Jehovah’s Witnesses by the Fascist regime. For example, in
1939, the magazine “Fides” carried an article written by an anonymous
“priest caring for souls.” He affirmed “the association of Jehovah’s
Witnesses is atheistic communism and openly attempted to attack the safety
of the state.” This anonymous priest defined himself as being “actively
dedicated against this religious association for three years,” raising
himself as a protector of the Fascist State. Surely, he knew that hurling
these accusations would provoke the regime’s intervention.9
The leader of the fourth zone of the O.V.R.A., in a report on the “Religious
Sect: Jehovah’s Witnesses,” wrote that its office in Milan was closed by
Police Headquarters “because of the reaction of the Catholic clergy and of
the antifascist accent of the books that had been distributed.”10 Even the
magazine “Rivista Abruzzese di Studi Storici dal Fascismo alla Resistenza”
(Abruzzese Magazine of Historical Studies from Fascism to the Resistance)
confirms the fact: “The instruction of the hierarchy of the national
Establishment, military and civil, lay or ecclesiastical, was for the
annihilation by means of condemnation of the supposed leaders and of those
considered the most active followers of the newest ‘Protestants’,” that had
come to disturb the “healthy country environment of Abruzzo, Puglie,
Campania and Trentino.”11
This is reminiscent of the Catholic Church’s involvement with the group in
Nazi Germany; reporting activities of Jehovah’s Witnesses to the
authorities.12 To their credit, both under Nazi and Fascist rule, Jehovah’s
Witnesses were one of the few groups that did not blemish themselves by
collaborating with the dictatorial regime. Catholic American writer Gordon
Zahn has admitted that, “except for the position that some minor Protestant
sects took – the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the traditional ‘Churches of Peace’
, for example – there is no reason to believe that the attitude of the
German Protestantism was different to that of the Catholic Religion that
gave support to the Nazi war.”13
With the end of World War II, the group of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Italy
started to reorganize the activity of proselytism that has brought the
number of their preachers from 120 in 1946 to the present 215,000. With
their 2,800 communities scattered throughout the national territory, they form the most consistent religious association
in the country, second only to the Catholic Church.14
Matteo Pierro
Notes:
1 – Sentence n. 309, of August 18, 1916. Files of the Military Court of
Torino.
2 – Circular of the Department of Interior, n. 442\41732, of September 21,
1929.
3 – Letter of December 30, 1995. By historian and ex-deportee Giovanni
Melodia.
4 – “Riet Narciso” documents, Archive of Matteo Pierro.
5 – From the book “Aula IV – Tutti i Processi del Tribunale Speciale
Fascista” (Fourth Courtroom – All the Trials of the Special Fascist Court),
AA. VV. Milano, 1976, pp. 324, 325, 405, 406.
See also the book “Regime Fascista e Chiese Evangeliche” (Evangelist
Churches and the Fascist Regime), by G. Rochat, Torino, 1990, p. 318.
6 – Central File of the State, PS. GI. 314, report n. 0799 of January 3,
1940 of General Police Inspector Dr. Pasquale Andriani, Fourth Zone
O.V.R.A., p. 18,
with attachment n. 89 (p. 290-292), n. 90 (p. 292-296), n. 91 (p. 297-303).
See also the Department of Interior’s communication “General
Direction of the Police, General and Reserved Affairs Department”
First Division, record n. 441\0218, of February 1, 1940.
7 – General File of the State.
8 – General File of the State.
9 – “Fides” magazine of February 1939, article: “The Jehovah’s Witnesses in
Italy,” p. 77-94.
10 – Report n. 0799 of January 3, 1940 of General Police Inspector Dr.
Pasquale Andriani, quotation p. 34.
11 – “Abruzzese Magazine of Historical Studies from Fascism to the
Resistance,” 3rd year, n. 3, 1982, p. 561.
12 – G.Lewy, The Catholic Church and Nazi Germany, New York 1964, p.70.
13 – G.Zahn, German Catholics and Hitler’s Wars, New York, p.60.
14 – “The Watchtower” magazine, January 1, 1996, vol. 117, n. 1, p.13,

 

Just a reminder that anyone wishing to make a written contributioon to this
Newsletter is most welcome to do, and should send it to this address below
by the 15th of the month.
With every best wish,
John Conway

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December 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- December 2000- Vol. VI, no. 12
 

Dear Friends,

I take this opportunity to send you all greetings for this festive and
joyous season. As we approach the reputed 2000th anniversary of the birth of
Jesus of Nazareth, we surely have complex feelings as we contemplate the
long centuries of Christian history. On the one hand, we must rejoice at the
achievements of Christian life and culture; on the other, we can only lament
the numerous occasions on which the Church has failed to live up to the
ideals of its founder. So too, church historians are not exempt. Twentieth
century church history, which is the focus of our Newsletter, has been an
exciting voyage of exploration; but at the same time, we have seen frequent
examples where partisanship has obscured the pursuit of historical accuracy.
May we hope that the new century will provide us with opportunities to heed
the wise admonition of Pope Leo XIII: “Let nothing untrue be said, and
nothing true be left unsaid”, or the saying of our good friend, the late
Klaus Scholder of Tübingen, “Truth may be painful for the Church, but
untruth is even more so”.
This issue completes the 6th Volume of this Newsletter, which has now had a
life far more extended than at first envisaged. But I have been sustained by
the encouragement and sometimes the written contributions you have sent in,
and am most grateful for your continued support. Particular thanks are due
to Doris Bergen for her kindness in editing the April issue. The benefits of
technology in bringing us together from all parts of the world continue to
amaze me, but I rejoice in these opportunities to make so many good friends,
even if too often unseen. I therefore greet you with heartfelt best wishes.

Contents:
1) The Pius XII Controversy continued
2)Book reviews: a) Michael Phayer, The Catholic Church and the Holocaust
1930-1965
b) Kloczowski, History of Polish Christianity
3) Book notes: Nordblum, Fur Glaube und Volkstum
4) Journal articles: Kirby, Temple, Pius XII, natural law and the post-war
peace
Kirby, Anglo-American Cold War alliance and defence of Christianity

1) The Pius XII Controversy continued:
We are particularly fortunate that one of our subscribers, Michael Marrus,
Dean of the Graduate School, University of Toronto, is also a member of the
International Catholic-Jewish Historical Commission appointed a year ago to
look at issues relating to the pontificate of Pius XII. Specifically the
mandate of the Commission, which consists of three Catholic and three Jewish
members, is to examine critically the archival material published in the 11
volumes of Actes et Documents du Saint Siege between 1965 and 1981. Despite
the large amount of documentation contained in these volumes – mostly in
Italian – polemical attacks have been made against the adequacy of Pius XII’
s actions during the Holocaust. It was the Commission’s task to see whether
any desirable further steps should be taken to clarify this picture, given
the fact that the published documents represent only a selection of the
Vatican’s holdings. The Commission recently completed an 18-page Preliminary
Report, and earlier this month went to Rome to present it. Unfortunately, a
version was leaked to the press, leading to several critical articles in,
for example, the New York Times. Nevertheless the Report has now been made
public and can be found on the website:
http://www.bnaibrith.org/cpp/randa/vatican.htm
One of the concerns voiced relates to the editorial policy when the Actes
were issued decades ago. On that occasion, it was decided to print only
documents which originated from the Vatican’s own officials. So some highly
significant pieces of evidence, which were supplied by outsiders, were
referred to only in footnotes. One example to which the Commission drew
attention was the memorandum sent by the World Jewish Congress in Geneva in
March 1942 about the mass murder of the Jews. Another example to which the
Commission could have referred was the noted eye-witness report on
conditions in Auschwitz which was presented by two escapees, A.Wetzler and
R.Vrba, to an official of the Papal Nunciature in Bratislava in June 1944.
The Commission rightly asks “What was the Holy See’s reaction, and what
discussion followed the reports that flowed in describing evidence of the
‘Final Solution’?”
So too, the Commission believes that historians’ curiosity should be
satisfied as to whether more documentation exists which would give a much
clearer picture, not only of what the Holy See attempted to do for the
victims of the war, including the Jews, but also of what was not done, as
for example the Vatican’s well-known opposition to the resettlement of Jews
in Palestine.
In all, the Commission raises its concerns in the form of 47 questions to
which they would like specific answers. While they recognize that it is
impossible for every piece of paper to be published, nevertheless they
believe that “there are numerous internal communications that every
administration leaves behind – diaries, memoranda, appointment books,
minutes of meetings, draft documents and so forth that detail the process of
how the Vatican arrived at the decisions it made” They also believe it would
help to have access to other archives such as those of the Society of Jesus,
and to the papers of numerous officials in the Vatican during those
traumatic years.
In conclusion the Commission states: “We appreciate that even if full access
were granted, this would not necessarily lay to rest all the questions
surrounding the role of the Holy See and the Holocaust. Nevertheless we
believe that this would be a very significant step forward in advancing
knowledge of the period and enhancing relations between the Jewish and
Catholic communities. . . . Ultimately, openness is the best policy for a
mature and balanced historical assessment.”

2) Book reviews: a) Michael Phayer, The Catholic Church and the Holocaust
1930-1965, Bloomington: Indiana University Press 300 pp. $29.95 US.
Michael Phayer is a professor of history at Marquette University, with a
notable record of publications in numerous scholarly journals. His aim in
his new book, The Catholic Church and the Holocaust 1930-1965, is to go
beyond the issue of the silence of Pope Pius XII to explore how the Church
in various countries, and through various individual Catholics, responded to
the Holocaust, and how that response eventually led during the Second
Vatican Council to the Church’s official rejection of antisemitism.
In contrast to the unfortunate diatribe by John Cornwell, Hitler’s Pope,
Phayer does not portray Pius XII as a Nazi sympathizer, or as a closeted
antisemite. But his indictment of Pius is still draconian. He claims that
Pius “did little for Jews in their hour of greatest need” (xi). While
acknowledging that he was able to save Jewish lives through the actions of
his papal nuncios, Phayer claims that his “greatest failure . . lay in his
attempt to use a diplomatic remedy for a moral outrage.” (xii) At the same
time, he charges that the “image that emerges of Pope Pius is that of a
pontiff whose deep concern about communism and the intact physical survival
of the city of Rome kept him from exploring options on behalf of the Jewish
people”.(xv)
Phayer further charges that in the immediate post-war period the Vatican
under Pius XII consciously assisted Nazi war criminals to escape and “worked
against U.S.policies that sought to make German society responsible for the
murder of the Jews”.(xvi) Why? To maintain a strong Germany in response to
the communist threat, and to keep unsullied the enhanced image of the Church
in Europe as a result of its actions during the war.
While Phayer spends a small portion of his book presenting heroic stories of
individual Catholics who engaged in rescue work, he returns consistently to
the theme of a silent, almost cowardly pontiff, whose only desire was to
limit communist expansion, even if it meant ignoring the plight of the Jews.
Yet Phayer is unable, or unwilling, to produce the evidence on which to base
this interpretation. He relies too much – as did Saul Friedlander before him
thirty years ago – on Nazi documents and their interpretation of the Vatican’s motives.
This flaw is compounded by the unfortunate and unhistorical repetition of
speculative and unproven hypotheses. For example, Phayer asserts that, had
Pius XI lived a further five years, Church reaction towards Nazi Germany and
the Holocaust would have been very different, in view of Pius XI’s more
robust condemnation of Nazi racism in his Encyclicals, and his desire to
have a new one dealing specifically with the Jewish issue, which Pius XII,
as one of his first acts in 1939, suppressed. But there is simply no
evidence of any change of papal strategy under Pius XII, nor explanation
that as Secretary of State under Pius XI, the future Pius XII was intimately
involved in his predecessor’s policies. Phayer’s claim is purely the result
of wishful thinking, and does not acknowledge what Pius XI did not face: the
onset of World War II.
So too, Phayer deplores the fact that Pius XII did not, after the outbreak
of war, condemn Nazi atrocities in Poland, and instead limited his
interventions to actions behind the scenes. This was to set a pattern, which
Phayer equally deplores, of stressing the Vatican’s impartial stance which
would enable the Pope to act as a mediator to achieve a cessation of
hostilities. But Phayer dismisses this stance as no more than an excuse.
The policies of Pius, Phayer believes, were much more due to preference for
Germany as over against his main enemy, the Soviet Union. Furthermore, this
diplomatic activity was far less desirable than a moral approach, though
Phayer fails to spell out what such a moral approach would have been, or how
it could have been either feasible or successful in the face of Nazi
intransigence.
Admittedly, the Vatican’s hope of achieving a diplomatic end to the war was
unsuccessful. The Allies’ adoption of the policy of unconditional surrender
in 1943 closed the door on their side; Hitler’s fanatical determination to
immolate his whole empire before capitulating equally destroyed Papal hopes.
Yet Phayer ignores the very real evidence of the Pope’s frustration,
disillusionment and despair, and instead insists that a better result could
have been achieved by thunderbolts from the Vatican denouncing the Nazi
crimes. And he depreciates even those statements Pius did make, such as his
Christmas message of 1942, which Phayer claims was not understood. “No one,
certainly not the Germans, took it as a protest against the slaughter of the
Jews” (49) In fact that was exactly how the New York Times on Christmas Day
1942 rightly interpreted the papal statement, as did the Nazis.
The central thesis of Phayer’s book is that Pius refused to speak out
against the Holocaust because he wanted a strong Germany to face down the
threat of Soviet expansion. Yet nowhere can he cite documented statements by
the Pope or his officials to that effect. In fact, the recently appointed
international Christian-Jewish Commission, [see Item 1 above] which has been
investigating the available material came to the conclusion: “We are struck
by the paucity of evidence to this effect and to the subject of communism in
general. Indeed, our reading of the volumes presents a different picture,
especially with regard to the Vatican promotion of the American bishops’
support for the alliance between the United States and the Soviet Union in
order to oppose Nazism.”
Some parts of Phayer’s book are both interesting and worthy. He outlines
well what the Church – and individual Catholics, even within Nazi Germany –
were able to accomplish in rescuing Jews. He makes clear that the Church did
not sit by idly as the Jews were taken to slaughter. His descriptions of the
acts by these brave women and men are notable, though he cannot help but add
that they went “further than Pius XII”.
Phayer clearly belongs to the school which believes that outspoken
denunciations of Nazi crimes could have saved more Jewish lives, even if he
has to admit that there was nothing the Holy See could do to force the Nazis
to end their campaign for a “Final Solution”. Such wishful conjectures are a
tribute to Phayer’s moral sensitivity, but do not enhance his historical
analysis.
What stands out is that the Holy See, under the leadership of Pius, saved
more Jewish lives than did any other agency in war-torn Europe. Phayer has
failed to show how any different policy or strategy could have saved more
lives. It can certainly be argued that a public crusade by Pius would have
made these accomplishments impossible.
Phayer’s attacks on the Vatican for its alleged assistance to ex-Nazis
fleeing their due punishment lack any convincing proof that any such
organized help was approved by the Pope or his immediate entourage. To the
contrary, we now know that the man most clearly involved, Bishop Hudal, had
long been isolated and relegated in the Vatican’s eyes. He was not received
by Pope Pius, and was clearly in high disfavour. Presumably he was the kind
of prelate who could be hoodwinked by any clever scoundrel or persuaded that
doing good to such persons, in the name of anti-communism, would earn him
merit.
Finally Phayer claims that coming to terms with Christian antisemitism was
delayed until after Pius’ death, allegedly because of this pontiff’s
unbending conservatism and pro-German stance. The fact is that the climate
was changing dramatically and that theological and scriptural studies, which
were in fact begun during Pius’ period of office, laid the foundation for
the teachings of the Second Vatican Council.
Phayer’s stance is perfectionist. Of course, one can conceive of ways in
which more could have been done to ameliorate the lot of the Jews. But it is
not enough to assert the failings of the Papacy in this grave crisis. The
responsible scholar also has to come to terms with, and to describe the
reality of, the historical situation as it was understood by those involved
at the time, and not as we would now like it to have been.
The reality is that the Vatican’s record in helping Jews was far better than
any other governmental entity in that terrible time. This is the undeniable
fact that critics of Pius, whatever their motivation, must answer. Phayer
does not.
Robert P.Lockwood, Fort Wayne, Indiana

b) Jerzy Kloczowski, A History of Polish Christianity, Cambridge University
Press, 2000. 385pp
Jerzy Kloczowski is Poland’s most distinguished senior church historian.
Despite having lost an arm during the Warsaw Uprising against the Nazi
invaders, he went on to have a notable career at the Catholic University of
Lublin, which took courage of a different sort. For some time he was a
colleague of Karol Wojtyla, now John Paul II. His special research interest
is in ecclesiastical topography, and he has built up a splendid library of
maps, demonstrating the growth of religious institutions in eastern Europe,
particularly for the Middle Ages.
Kloczowski recognized the need for a comprehensive history of Polish
Christianity at the time of its millennium in the 1980s. But little could be
done to publicize its record or achievements during the period of Communist
rule. Once Communism fell, the opportunity came to give Kloczowski’s work a
wider audience. This abbreviated but well translated English version will
therefore introduce its foreign readers to a rich but largely unknown
history.
The twentieth century gets 90 pages, i.e. nearly a quarter of the book. The
independent Poland re-established in 1918 was both a multinational and a
multidenominational state. Kloczowski gives a comprehensive and sympathetic
description of the various branches of the church and depicts the notable
growth of Catholic institutions and religious life during this period. But,
at the same time, waves of chauvinism and nationalism produced much
religious conflict, including virulent antisemitism. Anti-clericalism was
also rife among the intelligentsia. In any case, Poland’s rapacious
neighbours, both west and east, within twenty years destroyed the nation and
sought to enslave its peoples. Both Nazis and Soviets persecuted the church
brutally and consistently. Under the Nazis, nearly a fifth of all Polish
Catholic priests were killed; 1760 Polish priests were sent to Dachau, where
860 died; 3 bishops were murdered in concentration camps. The material
damage destroyed all the achievements of the interwar period; the moral
damage was incalculable. But the identification of Polish nationalism with
Catholicism gave rise to examples of heroic resistance and defiance, such as
the self-sacrificing death of Maxymilian Kolbe, later canonized. In
Kloczowski’s view, the Catholic Church suffered terrible losses, but its
position in 1945 was much stronger than in 1939, which was to be of
paramount importance in the subsequent years.
The forty-five years of Communist rule still need to be objectively
researched and analyzed. But it is clear that Poland was the most
significant arena where the dominant Communist totalitarian ideology was
challenged by the vitality of Catholicism, powerfully and deeply rooted in
the people at large. The 1945 revision of Poland’s borders strengthened
Catholicism by expelling other Christian communities, while the few
remaining Jews sought exile elsewhere. But the task of restoration was
deliberately obstructed by the anti-clerical policies of the regime, which
led to the arrest and detention of the Polish Primate, Wyszynski, for three
years from 1953-56. The stubbornness of the church was undoubtedly one
factor which forced the government’s new leader, Gomulka, to take a more
moderate stance after 1956. Despite the official propagation of communist
atheism, the popularity of the “church-in-chains” grew steadily, as did the
authority of its leaders, one of whom became Pope in 1978. The emphasis on
pastoral work was notable, but strengthened the church’s innately
conservative character. Not until 1970 was Polish first used in the Mass,
and the reforms of the 2nd Vatican Council were only slowly adopted.
Kloczowski acknowledges the danger of Polish-Catholic ethnocentrism, and
regrets that, for all its vitality, the church shows little willingness to
engage in ecumenical activities beyond its immediate horizons.
The election of a Polish Pope and his appeal to the moral foundations of
Christianity’s heritage undoubtedly played a significant role in undermining
the Communist regime. The regaining of independence was of course a welcome
development, even if it led to the appearance in Poland of scores of new
religious groups, Christian or other. Kloczowski notes that, despite the
numerical and organizational strength of Polish Catholicism, it also suffers
>from manifest weaknesses and inner divisions. Political quarrels over the
role of the church in society are notable. Theological consensus on
doctrinal questions is far from complete. But such tensions could be
expected at a time when the social order in Poland, the Polish state, the
Church in Poland and all of Poland’s Christians have entered a new phase and
face challenges different from the one encountered under totalitarianism.
This eirenic and scholarly history gives an excellent introduction to the
present situation, and we are indebted to Professor Kloczowski for his lucid
guidance and appreciation. JSC

3) Book notes: Pia Nordblum, Fur Glaube und Volkstum. Die katholische
Wochenzeitung “Der Deutsche in Polen” (1934-1939) in der Auseinandersetzung
mit dem Nationalsozialismus. (Veroffentlichungen der Kommission fur
Zeitgeschichte, Reihe B. Bd 87), Paderborn 2000 DM 168
The Nazi policy of “Gleichschaltung” which affected so many aspects of
German life, also fundamentally altered the close relations between Berlin
and the German ethnic community in Poland, which had been established during
the Weimar Republic. One of the leading German Catholic politicians in this
community in Poland, Dr Edward Pant (1887-1938), early on recognized that
the new Nazi regime would try to exploit his community for its own political
purposes. However, he was unable to convince his compatriots of the accuracy
of his analysis of the situation. The German-Catholic minority split into
pro- and anti-Nazi factions. Following his isolation politically, Pant took
the counteroffensive journalistically, founding a new conservative Catholic
weekly newspaper in Upper Silesia, “Der Deutsche in Polen”. During its
publication run from 1934 to 1939, this newspaper quickly became an
important mouthpiece for German Christians living in East-Central Europe who
were opponents of Nazism, including recent emigres. The paper also served as
a forum for those German ethnic minorities in eastern European states who
did not want to be subject to “Gleichschaltung”.
The author, Dr Pia Nordblom, Heidelberg, has used rich and wide-ranging
source material from German, Austrian and Polish archives, as well as
extensive use of private papers, hitherto unknown. She has also analyzed the
contemporary press at length. As a result, she is able to paint a
comprehensive picture of the political and cultural life of the German
minority in Poland during the 1930s. Moreover, in describing the founding
and contents of Der Deutsche in Polen, as well as its organizational
profile, she makes an important contribution to the history of the popular
press. Finally, this study adds to the history of the German resistance
against Nazism – especially among Catholics in Silesia – and to the history
of German-Polish relations before the outbreak of the Second World War.

4) Journal articles: a) Dianne Kirby, University of Ulster, William Temple,
Pius XII, Ecumenism, natural law, and the post-war peace in Journal of
Ecumenical Studies, 26: 3-4, Summer-Fall 1999, 318-339

 
During his tenure of the archbishopric of Canterbury, 1942-4, the
internationally respected William Temple sought to bring together the Roman
and non-Roman worlds in order to transcend the divisions inflicted on
Christendom by World War II. Temple, a founder of the World Council of
Churches (in process of formation), hoped to make a personal visit to Pope
Pius XII to demonstrate to the world the agreement on principles for
peacemaking that existed on both sides of the Reformation divide. His
efforts engendered political opposition from the British Foreign Office,
less than enthusiastic at the prospect of Christian influence on post-war
plans. These officials saw no reason to assist Temple in realizing his aim
to reach an agreement with the Pope regarding the moral foundation of a
lasting peace. Temple also had to contend with embedded Anglican suspicion
of Roman Catholicism, including his own. Nonetheless, right up to his
premature death in 1944, Temple remained determined to effect an approach to
Pius XII which would show the world the way toward a Christian peace and the
churches a way toward the ecumenical ideal he cherished.

b) Dianne Kirby, Divinely Sanctioned: The Anglo-American Cold War Alliance
and the Defence of Western Civilization and Christianity, 1945-48 in Journal
of Contemporary History, Vol 35, no 3, 2000, 385-412
As the war-time alliance of the great powers fell apart to be replaced by
suspicion of the Soviet Union’s intentions, the leaders in both Britain and
the USA sought means for building a new relationship capable of stemming
this danger. Because of the divergence between the British Labour Government
‘s socialist stance and that of the Truman administration’s more right-wing
internal politics, the use of Christianity became a convenient ideological
justification for this new policy. This had the advantage of projecting the
Soviet regime as an evil power while at the same time consolidating the
‘special relationship’ across the Atlantic. So too the success of
establishing Christian Democratic parties in western Europe demonstrated the
usefulness of this religious motivation. Not only did this tactic contribute
to the intensification of the Cold War but transformed numerous Christian
leaders into Cold War warriors, as well as making Christianity a politicized
doctrine.

 

At the conclusion of the year, and of this volume, I want to send you all my
best wishes, in the hope that I may hear from you with your comments and
criticism in the year ahead.
Sincerely,
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca
Website: http://www.calvin.edu/academic/cas/akz

 

List of books reviewed in 2000
Barnett, V.J.: Bystanders. Conscience and complicity during the Holocaust
July/August
Baum, Gregory ed.,The Twentieth Century. A theological overview January
Besier, Gerhard: Kirche,Politik und Gesellschaft im 20 Jahrhundert May
Cornwell, John: Hitler’s Pope January
Devine, T.M. ed.: Scotland’s Shame. Bigotry and Sectarianism October
Doering-Manteuffel, A and Nowak, K: Religionspolitik in Deutschland
Festschrift für Martin Greschat September
Furuya, Y. ed: A History of Japanese Theology July/August
Garrard-Burnett, Virginia: Protestantism in Guatemala July/August
Hastings, Adrian: A world history of Christianity November
Hoover, Arlie J.: God, Britain and Hitler in World War II October
Ion, Hamish: The Cross in the Dark Valley March
Kääriäinen, Kimmo: Religion in Russia after the collapse of Communism
October
Kell,G and Seborg, C.J: Reflections on Bonhoeffer March
Kloczowski, J.: A history of Polish Christianity December
Lewy, Gunter: The Nazi Persecution of the Gypsies June
Loveland, Ann: American Evangelicals and the United States Military April
Ludwig, Frieder: Church and State in Tanzania June
Phayer,Michael: The Catholic Church and the Holocaust, 1930-1965 December
Railton, Nicholas: The German Evangelical Alliance and
the Third Reich February
Rittner, C, Smith, S., and Steinfeldt, I: The Holocaust and
the Christian World May
Roggelin, Holger: Franz Hildebrandt May
Rychlak, Ronald: Hitler, the War and the Pope November
Safranski, Rüdiger: Martin Heidegger. Between good and evil September
Seliger, S: Charlotte v.Kirschbaum and Karl Barth February
Shapiro, James: Oberammergau October
Terray, Laszlo. He could not do otherwise. Bishop Lajos Ordass March
Thiesen, John D.: Mennonite & Nazi in Latin America? June
Vogelin, Eric: Hitler and the Germans February
Vuletic, Aleksandar-Sasa: Christen jüdischer Herkunft im Dritten Reich June
Werner, Uwe: Anthroposophen in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus May
Wilkinson, Alan: Christian Socialism: Scott Holland to Tony Blair March
Wollasch, Hans-Josef ed: “Betrifft Nachrichtenzentrale des Erzbischofs
Gröber in Freiburg”.Die Ermittlungsakten der Geheimen Staatspolizei
gegen Gertrud Luckner September

All reviews except those whose authors are specifically noted are written by
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November 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- November 2000- Vol. VI, no. 11
 

Dear Friends,

This issue is principally devoted to the history of Catholic Church and to
the policies of Pius XII, which continue to arouse considerable controversy.
In fact, during the compilation of this Newsletter, I received a copy of The
Catholic Church and the Holocaust, kindly sent to me by the author, Michael
Phayer. To be reviewed later.

Greetings to you at this season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

Contents:

1) Enquiry

2) Report on Conferences: a) Notre Dame, Indiana, b) GSA, Houston, Texas c)
International Bonhoeffer Congress, Berlin

3)Book reviews:

a) Rychlak, Hitler, the War and the Pope
b) ed. Hastings, World History of Christianity

4) Journal articles: O.Heilbronner, German Catholic Ghettos
Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht, March 2000

5) Titanically . . .

 

1) Peter Baehr presently at Lingnan University, Hong King, is making a new
translation of Max Weber’s Protestant Ethic. He asks for help in tracking
down some allusions which need clarification. Can any one assist him, and if
so, can you reply to:
pbaehr@ln.edu.hk
He wants to know: a) why are some nations known as peoples of the Liberum
Arbitrium (free will), e.g. Italy and France?
b) What does “genus proximum differentia specifica” mean?
c) Weber refers to a “cawerische” sect. Who were/are these people?

2) Recent conferences:
a) A one day symposium on Pope Pius XII took place at Notre Dame University
on September 23. Participants were Jose Sanchez (St. Louis University),
Steward Stehlin (New York University), Michael Phayer (Marquette
University), and John Pollard (Anglia Polytechnic University), who chaired
the panel and the following discussion. Sanchez is publishing an
historiographical study of Pius; his remarks, consequently, reviewed known
positions, but Sanchez indicated that his own view was sympathetic to the
pope. Stehlin reviewed the situation of the church after the Weimar
Republic, pointing out that the Concordat with Germany was logical and
therefore did not constitute the papal power play that John Cornwell
portrays it to be in Hitler’s Pope. After noting studies of Pius that have
been completely favorable or completely unfavorable to Pius XII, Phayer
provided the views of his contemporaries, people like the English minister
Francis Osborne, the Jesuit advisor, Robert Leiber, and the French
ambassador to the Vatican, Jacques Maritain.
In the discussion that followed with the audience of about 40, Gary Wills’
recent book was mentioned along with his accusation that the pope could have
but did not excommunicate perpetrators. This led to a discussion about the
advantages and disadvantages of the pope’s speaking out. How many would have
been endangered? On the other hand, how many would have been saved by a
papal warning? One member of the audience mentioned that a new collection of
Jacques Maritain’s letters (six volumes!) was presently being published.
Some of this material is reportedly critical of the pope (Maritain was the
French ambassador to the Vatican after the war until his resignation in
1948.)
b) The 24th German Studies Association met in Houston from October 6 to 8.
One session was devoted to a discussion of Pope Pius in the aftermath of
John Cornwell’s study, Hitler’s Pope. The panel consisted of Hannah Decker
(Houston University), Richard Rubenstein (president emeritus of Bridgeport
University), Michael Phayer (Marquette University); the session was chaired
by Michael Marrus (Toronto University) and Francis Nicosia gave the comment.
Decker and Rubenstein reviewed Cornwell’s biographical representation of the
pope, his family and educational background. Decker agreed that a
psychological study of the pope could shed light on his decisions during the
war and the Holocaust; she indicated that certain people experience crises
when they attain positions of complete power. Phayer compared favorably
Bishop Preysing of Berlin to Pope Pius and then reviewed the October , 1943,
razzia of Roman Jews, indicating that the pope’s actions were reasonable if
mistaken. Rubenstein, in basic agreement with Decker and Phayer, couched his
remarks around cognitive dissonance theory. In his commentary, Nicosia
indicated his favorable view of Hitler’s Pope.
In the discussion that followed the 15 minutes presentations, Michael Marrus
pointed out the mistake in assuming that the pope should have spoken out
when there was no precedent for this kind of intervention. The audience
asked about the pope’s diplomatic situation after the Hitler-Stalin pact and
invasion of Poland. Phayer noted that Myron Taylor, President Roosevelt’s
personal envoy to the Vatican, reported that the pope did not speak out
because of his extreme depression.
c) VIII International Bonhoeffer Kongress, Berlin

Over 250 members of the International Bonhoeffer Society met from August
20-25 at the historic Gendamenmarkt of Berlin to learn more about and
discuss
issues relating to the legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Under the theme
“Religion and the Shape of Christianity in the 21st Century,” seven major
lectures and sixteen elective presentations were offered to the participants
representing eighteen countries.

Professor Christian Gremmels, chair of the International Bonhoeffer
Gesellschaft, preached the sermon for opening worship held at the Berlin
Dom,
while Renate Bethge, widow of Eberhard Bethge and niece of Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, served as lector. Following the opening worship on August 20,
the Karl Barth Prize (given by the Evangelical Church of the Union) was
presented to Dr. John de Gruchy of Capetown, for his faithful leadership
over
many years in the South African struggle to end apartheid.

The major lectures were given by Dr. Jean Bethke Elshtain (Chicago):
“Religion and Modernity”; Dr. John W. deGruchy (South Africa) and Dr. Bassam
Tibi (Germany): “Christianity in Times of Religious Pluralism”; Dr. Larry
Rasmussen (USA) and Dr. Johann Baptist Metz (Germany): “The Shape of
Christianity in the 21st Century and the Future of Ecumenism”; and Bishop
Wolfgang Huber (Germany): “The Relevance of Christian Freedom in View of the
Social Challenges of our Time”. (Scheduled to speak, but later unable to
attend, was Dr. Peter L. Berger of the USA. )

Included in the week’s program were elective tours of significant sites
related to Bonhoeffer and the Holocaust, such as the Sachsenhausen
Concentration Camp, the Topography of Terror and German Resistance Memorial
Centers, the House of the Wannsee-Conference, as well as two evening
concerts
at the Bonhoeffer Haus in Charlottenburg.

The closing worship service on August 25th was held at St. Matthaikirche,
near the Tiergarten, the parish at which Bonhoeffer was ordained in 1932.
Officiating at Holy Communion and preaching the sermon was Dr. Wolfgang
Huber, Bishop of Berlin-Brandenburg and an active member of the Bonhoeffer
Society. Following the worship was a reception for conference delegates at
the Schloss Bellevue, at the invitation of the Bundespraesident, Dr. h.c.
Johannes Rau, who because of illness could not personally be present, and
who
delegated the host responsibilities to his secretary of state.

For copies of the conference lectures, contact: Enno Obendieck at
Koetschaustrasse 14, D-40474 Dusseldorf, Germany.

The date and place for the (next) IX International Bonhoeffer Kongress (year
2004) has not yet been determined; the Newsletter of the International
Bonhoeffer Society – English Language Section (Box 235, Afton, Minnesota
55001) will publicize such details, as they become known.

John W. Matthews, vice-president
International Bonhoeffer Society – English Language Section

3a) Ronald J.Rychlak, Hitler, the War, and the Pope. Our Sunday
Visitor, Huntington IN. 548 pp. US $26.95

Amid the flood of tributes to Pope Pius XII following his death on
October 9, 1958, those of Jewish leaders were especially warm. “During
the ten years of Nazi terror,” said Golda Meir, then Israeli
representative to the United Nations and later Prime Minister of Israel,
“the Pope raised his voice to condemn the persecutors and to commiserate
with their victims.” Rabbi Elio Toaff, who would one day welcome
another pope to his synagogue as Rome’s Chief Rabbi, said that Italian
Jews “more than anyone else … had the opportunity to appreciate the
great kindness, filled with compassion and magnanimity, that the Pope
displayed during the terrible years of persecution and terror.” The
tributes of major rabbis in New York alone were so numerous that it took
three issues of the New York Times to report them all. Praise came also
>from the Jewish press. “There was probably not a single ruler of our
generation,” wrote the Winnipeg Jewish Post, “who did more to help the
Jews in their hour of greatest tragedy … than the late Pope.”

The triumphal car got off to a good start. But Vengeance came limping
after in the form of the German playwright Rolf Hochhuth. His play The
Deputy, first performed and published in 1963, portrayed Pius XII as
indifferent to the Holocaust, concerned chiefly to preserve the
financial interests of the institution over which he presided in
imperial isolation. Born in 1931, Hochhuth was too young to have
experienced the events of which he wrote. But his play captured the
imagination of a generation starting to protest against authority in all
forms. Ever since, the wartime Pontiff has been the anti-hero of a
Black Legend, the one wartime leader who might have stopped the
slaughter of six million Jews and failed to do so: out of cowardice,
cynicism, and indifference – even (in the recently expanded version of
the indictment) anti-Semitism.

Acceptance of this legend is now so widespread that the Pope’s supposed
“silence” during the Holocaust was the starting point for all media
comment on John Paul II’s prayer for forgiveness of Catholic sins in
March of this year and his subsequent visit to Israel.

Ronald J. Rychlak, a professor and dean at the University of
Mississippi’s School of Law, a nationally recognized authority on the
interpretation of evidence and a non-Catholic, he had never heard of the
Black
Legend until a few years ago, when “a friend of mine accused Pope Pius
XII of having been a Nazi.” This book is the result.

Starting in the 1920s and concluding with Pius XII’s death, Rychlak
presents the judgment of the Pope’s contemporaries in rich detail. A
concluding chapter analyzes the charges against the pontiff in the form
of ten questions and finds them without foundation.

The New York Times is in the forefront today of those propagating the
myth of Pius XII’s “silence.” As the story unfolded, however, the
“newspaper of record” saw things differently: For example,
– “NAZIS WARNED IN LOURDES”: was the headline reporting the protest in 1935
of
then Cardinal Pacelli against “superstitions of race and blood.”
When Pacelli was elected Pope on March 2, 1939, the Times
reported “nearly general applause around the world,” except in
Germany. “POPE CONDEMNS DICTATORS, TREATY VIOLATORS, RACISM”: was the
three-column front-page headline reporting the Pope’s first encyclical, Oct.
28, 1939. Or again,- “VATICAN DENOUNCES ATROCITIES IN POLAND; GERMANS CALLED
EVEN WORSE THAN RUSSIANS”: Jan. 23, 1940.
– “JEWS’ RIGHTS DEFENDED”: Mar. 14, 1940, reporting the Pope’s
“burning words to [Nazi Foreign Minister] Ribbentrop in defense of the
Jews in Germany and Poland.”
– “Pius XII is a lonely voice in the silence and darkness enveloping
Europe this Christmas. … The Pope put himself squarely against
Nazism”: Dec. 25, 1941.
– “The papacy is throwing the whole weight of its publicizing
facilities into an exposé” of Nazi atrocities (through Vatican
radio): Jan. 24, 1942.
– “POPE IS SAID TO PLEAD FOR JEWS LISTED FOR REMOVAL FROM FRANCE”:
Aug. 6, 1942. And on Aug. 27: “VICHY SEIZES JEWS; POPE PIUS
IGNORED.”
– “This Christmas [1942] more than ever [the Pope] is a lonely voice
crying out of the silence of a continent”: editorial on the Pope’s
reference to “the hundreds of thousands who … solely because
of their nation or race, have been condemned to death or progressive
extinction.”
– On August 21, 1944 Pulitzer laureate Anne O’Hare McCormick wrote in
the Times that the Pope had given “first priority” to saving Jews.
– “Under the Pope’s direction the Holy See did an exemplary job of
sheltering and championing the victims of the Nazi-Fascist regime. … None
[in
Rome] doubts that the general feeling of the Roman Curia was anti-Fascist
and
very strongly anti-Nazi”: Times reporter Herbert L. Matthews, Oct. 15, 1944.

Expressions of thanks by Jewish leaders, throughout the war and at its
conclusion, were numerous. “The people of Israel will never forget what
His Holiness is doing for us,” Chief Rabbi Herzog of Palestine wrote in
one of his many wartime communications to the Holy See. Similar
assurances recur repeatedly. On October 11, 1945 the New York Times
reported a gift to the Vatican of $20,000 from the World Jewish Congress
“in recognition of the work of the Holy See in rescuing Jews from
Fascist and Nazi persecution.”

The perception of Pius XII’s contemporaries is virtually unknown
today. When adverted to, it is dismissed as irrelevant, or simply
wrong. Why? Hochhuth’s play may have occasioned the change. It cannot
have caused it. “The evil is so great that people keep looking for
another culprit,” Rychlak writes. Hochhuth’s indictment of the Pope
came, as already noted, just as the rebellion against authority was
getting underway in western democracies. The demonization of an
authority figure revered by millions was welcome to an age proclaiming
the death of God and rejecting the pretensions of those claiming to
speak in his name. Today people who hold that there is no such thing as
truth, but only differing opinions, cherish the Black Legend as a means
of discrediting an institution still too benighted to concede a position
they hold to be self-evident.

Readers skeptical about the value Rychlak assigns to the judgment of
Pius XII’s contemporaries may wish to consider Rychlak’s Epilogue. This
deals with the most recent statement of the case against the wartime
Pontiff by John Cornwell in his book, Hitler’s Pope, which appeared when
Rychlak’s manuscript was substantially complete.

He cites abundant evidence contradicting Cornwell’s claim that his
original intention was to defend Pius XII against calumny (the Black
Legend), but that “previously unseen material” which Cornwell studied
“for months on end” in the secret Vatican archives reduced him to the
“state of moral shock” which produced Hitler’s Pope. In reality,
Cornwell’s research in the Vatican archives extended for three weeks
only, during which his visits were not daily. None of the material he
cites was “previously unseen.”

A letter written in 1919 by Pacelli when he was nuncio in Munich, which
Cornwell calls “a ticking time bomb” and proof of anti-Semitism,
appeared in print several years before Cornwell started his research.
The letter reports an attack on the Munich nunciature by a band of
communist thugs led by “a young Russian Jew: pale, dirty, with vacant
eyes, hoarse voice, vulgar, repulsive, with a face that is both
intelligent and sly.” This description is by an aide not by Pacelli
(who did not witness the incident). Though this language has been
criminalized by today’s language police, it was hardly remarkable eighty
years ago. Moreover it correctly states the facts. It no more proves
Pacelli’s lifelong anti-Semitism than incidents from his early
schooling, which Rychlak shows that Cornwell has either misunderstood or
misinterpreted.

Rychlak also demonstrates that Cornwell misrepresents Pacelli’s role
(as papal Secretary of State) and motives in negotiating the Holy See’s
Concordat with Hitler in July 1933. Cornwell’s source is the German
Protestant Klaus Scholder, whose work is available in English
translation, and whom Cornwell calls “unchallenged in German
scholarship.” In fact, Scholder’s work has been decisively refuted by
two German Catholic historians whose works remain untranslated: the late
Ludwig Volk SJ and Konrad Repgen. (Cornwell appears to have used no
German sources at all.)

The initiative for the Concordat came not from Rome (as Cornwell,
following Scholder, claims) but from Hitler. Far from weakening the
resistance of German Catholics to Hitler, as Cornwell contends, the
treaty contained protections for the church, eagerly desired at the time
by the German bishops. Moreover, Pacelli was more realistic about the
value of Hitler’s promises than most political leaders, telling the
British Minister to the Holy See that while he expected Hitler to
violate some of the Concordat’s provisions, he probably would not
violate all of them at the same time.
Cornwell makes much of Pius XII’s supposed indifference to the roundup
of Roman Jews by the Nazis on October 16, 1943, shown (Cornwell
contends) by the Pope’s failure to mention this in a conversation with
the American official Harold Tittmann the very next day. Though
Tittmann’s published report is dated October 17, this is clearly
erroneous. The Vatican records show that the conversation took place
October 14. Rychlak writes: “The Pope did not mention the roundup of
Jews because it had not yet happened.” In fact, thousands of Roman Jews
were saved by the Pope. When Robert Katz (another star witness for
Cornwell) claimed the contrary after Pius XII’s death, his niece won an
action for libel from the Italian Supreme Court. Cornwell falsely
claims that the verdict was “inconclusive.”

Similarly skewed is Cornwell’s account of papal policy toward the
wartime Ustashi regime in Croatia, which cooperated with Nazi
persecution of Jews. Far from approving of the regime, the Holy See
refused to recognize it and mounted feverish efforts to help Jews in
Croatia. Cornwell repeats post-war charges by the Yugoslav communist
government that the Croatian Archbishop Stepinac supported the Ustashi
regime. His approval was short lived. After learning of the regime’s
brutality, and receiving instructions from Rome, Stepinac vigorously
condemned the regime and worked to save its victims. Following his
post-war conviction by a communist court, widely recognized even then as
a frame-up, the American Jewish leader Louis Braier defended Stepinac,
calling him “a great man of the church … who spoke openly and
fearlessly against the racial law. After His Holiness, Pius XII, he was
the greatest defender of the Jews in persecuted Europe.”

While Rychlak’s refutation of the Black Legend is impressive, it is
unlikely to change many minds. The myth of Pius XII’s silence and
inactivity serves a function similar to that of the myths in classical
antiquity. It helps explain what would otherwise be unintelligible.
Moreover, deeply held beliefs seldom yield to facts. Already an Israeli
member of the six-member panel charged with evaluating the twelve
published volumes of wartime documents from the Vatican archives has
called Pius XII “complicit in German policy.”

In the face of six million dead, no one can claim that enough was
done. To claim, however, that nothing was done – or that the failure to
do more was the result of cynicism or indifference – is a grave
falsification of history. When the victim of this falsification is a
person of demonstrable moral courage and goodness, it is shameful.
John Jay Hughes, St Louis, Missouri

3b) ed. Adrian Hastings, A World History of Christianity, London: Cassell,
1999. pp.xiv, 594.
This handsome volume, clearly essential to the shelves of any
self-respecting library, will strike its readers as indispensable and
infuriating., in proportions likely to teach each reader a good deal about
him/herself! Built on a plan drawn up by Peter Hinchliff, whose early death
was one of several blows to affect the final outcome, it consists of 13
essays on particular areas/periods, so that the entire world-wide experience
of Christians to date is ‘covered’. But not encyclopaedically – don’t expect
to be able to look up your favourite episodes or witnesses. The editor
forestalls not a little of the infuriation with his apology on p. 4f for
areas that are overlooked – though he could have included Poland, Bohemia
and Hungary too!
Any such project cannot but provoke endless questions about emphasis and
structure. The writers clearly all strive to be properly ‘objective’. yet
already the centrality of ‘Christianity’ as their topic proves in detail
slippery. It was undoubtedly a good idea to entrust the opening chapter on
“The emergence of Christianity” to a learned and courteous Jew, who gives
half his space to the social and intellectual background in the Roman Empire
and in Judaism. But the other chapters vary considerably in their relative
attention to the ‘outer’ aspects, i.e. the church history, or to the ‘inner’
history, what the faith has meant (or otherwise) in a given culture, let
alone to the overall social and intellectual history of that population as a
whole. And while it is excellent to have all continents represented, was it
necessary to give Western Europe three whole chapters where Africa, Latin
America and North America (the three most quantitatively ‘most Christian’
areas today) only get one each? Good too that N.America and Australasia
provide their own authors, but why oh why could we not have African, Indian
and Latin American authors (good as their western proxies are!)?
The main word must however be of profound appreciation for what the book
does offer. None of the chapters is less than valuable, most of them
fascinating. Two whose topics are specific enough for the author to be able
to tell a key period of history as a continuous story are those on the
Reformation (Andrew Petegree) and Christianity in W.Europe from the
Enlightenment (Mary Heimann), the latter encouragingly fresh in pointing
beyond the ‘myths’ that have crept into so much contemporary interpretations
of the huge swings in her period (see her account of the 1860
Huxley-Wilberforce debate on pp 494-6).
Dismayingly frequent, though clearly in no way concerted, is an emphasis on
the disastrous effects of quarrels and splits among Christians. Hardly less
frequent are the passages, at least for this reader, where one realises that
a person or group one has regarded as key to a given area proves to be less
so – Ziegenbalg for instance is evaluated much more highly for Christianity
in India than William Carey. No reader will fail to learn a great deal,
whether of detail or of the larger movements of history, even those who
might like to think of ourselves as relatively well-informed. And the
bibliographies are magisterial.
Martin Conway, Oxford

4) Journal article: a) Oded Heilbronner, From Ghetto to ghetto: The Place of
German Catholic society in recent historiography, Journal of Modern History,
72, June 2000, pp453-495.
This 40 page review article gives an extensive analysis of a number of works
dealing with German Catholic society during the last 15o years. Heilbronner
develops his highly critical views of the current German Catholic research
establishment, accusing its participants of outdated historical and
methodological opinions. His account of the “backwardness” of Catholics
during this period is unlikely to make many friends, but some of his
strictures have merit.

b) The March issue of Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht is devoted
to the subject of Church, State and Society. The opening article by H-J
Kracht touches on Heilbronner’s subject, while Kurt Nowak (Leipzig)
contributes a masterly overview of the literature on church history, mainly
German, for the past two centuries, pp.190-207, also April issue, pp256-66.
Claudia Lipp gives a useful summary of the historiography of the divided yet
united Protestant Church 1945-95.

5) Titanically . . .
This is a transcript of an actual radio conversation of a US naval ship with
Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October 1995:

Americans: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a
collision.
Canadians: Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the South to avoid
a collision
Americans: This is the Captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR
course.
Canadians: No, I say again, divert YOUR course.
Americans: This is the Aircraft Carrier, USS Lincoln. The second largest
ship in the US fleet. We are accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers
and numerous support vessels. I demand that you change your course 15
degrees, that is one five degrees, north or counter measures will be taken
to ensure the safety of this ship.
Canadians: This is a lighthouse. Your call.

Best wishes
JohnS.Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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October 2000 Newsletter

 

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

 

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

 

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- October 2000- Vol.VI, no. 10
 

Dear Friends

Contents:

1 ) Book reviews:

a) Shapiro, Oberammergau
b) Hoover, God, Britain and Hitler in World War II
c) Kääriäinen, Religion in Russia
d) ed T.Devine, Scotland’s Shame?

2) Book Notes:

a) ed. Hutchinson/Kalu, A Global Faith
b) ed K.Koschorke, Christen und Gewürze
c) ed E.Gatz, Kirche und Katholizismus

1a) James Shapiro, Oberammergau. The troubling story of the world’s most
famous Passion Play. New York: Pantheon Books. 2000. 239pp. US$ 24.00
Fifty years ago this summer I tramped across Europe to the picturesque
Bavarian village of Oberammergau in order to see their well-known Passion
Play. The performance was impressive, especially the crowd scenes in which
several hundred villagers thronged the huge open-air stage, with its
backdrop of the Alpine foothills behind. The play itself was eight hours
long, based on the text revised by a nineteenth century priest. The emphasis
was on the drama of Our Lord’s Passion, in places going well beyond the
Gospel story, especially in the depiction of Jesus’ opponents, the Jews.
At the time, following so soon after the disastrous political events of the
Nazi period, this first post-war performance seemed to mark a welcome return
to the traditions of earlier centuries, a sign of the vitality of popular
Catholicism and an advantageous means of reviving the economy in contrast to
the ruined desperate conditions in the near-by bombed-out cities.
No one, I am sure, attending the 1950 performances could have foreseen that
shortly thereafter both the village and the Passion Play were to become
embroiled in an intense political and theological controversy, which raised
serious questions about the integrity of both. The reverberations still
continue. Now, thanks to the diligent investigations of James Shapiro, a
Professor of English at Columbia University, we can follow the course of
this debate. His book was published just in time before this year’s cycle of
performances, and provides the English-speaking reader with the kind of
background which is certainly not included in the tourist literature.
The first salvo was fired in the mid-1960s by two American Jewish
organizations who deplored the fact that the play should so openly espouse a
virulent prejudice which depicted the Jews collectively as “Christ-killers”,
an accusation virtually unchanged since the middle ages. As Elie Wiesel
said: “the artist cannot be silent when the arts are used to exalt hatred”.
Demands were issued that striking changes should be made to the traditional
text and all antisemitic elements removed. But these protests had little
success until similar views were expressed by leading Catholics, following
the Second Vatican Council and its revolutionary ‘Declaration of the
Relationship of the Church to non-Christian Religions’, commonly known as
Nostra Aetate. The Vatican now adopted a very different tone, and it became
clear that while the play had not changed, the Church’s message had. Caught
between the anvil of Vatican II and the hammering criticism of Jewish
groups, the Oberammergau authorities were grudgingly obliged to make serious
changes.
The feeling of outrage in Oberammergau was palpable. Who gave these
outsiders the right to criticize their play? Had they not faithfully
preserved the traditions established over three centuries earlier? Were they
not literally maintaining their precious heritage by fulfilling the vow of
1633? Outside interference predictably aroused defensive reactions amongst
the villagers.
But the controversy was only made more severe by the Jewish critics’ further
assertions that the kind of traditional Catholic anti-judaism found in the
Oberammergau Passion Play had played a large and formative role in preparing
the ground for the Nazis’ still more radical antisemitism, leading to the
Holocaust. Such accusations were made still more strident when details
emerged about Oberammergau under Nazism, including Hitler’s famous visit to
the 1934 performance, which he had praised as a convincing portrayal of the
menace of Judaism. Several of the more prominent actors, and a large number
of villagers, had been members of the Nazi Party. Post-war denazification
had had virtually no effect, as the same team was responsible for the 1950
as for the 1934 production. So the political legacy of the 1930s was now
combined with the theological legacy of earlier centuries to become a major
focus point of criticism and challenge.
Shapiro’s concern is how to deal with these mutual accusations of collective
guilt: first, that the Jews, as the Passion Play affirmed, were responsible
for the death of Jesus; second, that the German people collectively were
responsible for the Holocaust. His findings are that, after fifty and more
years, the passage of time has eased, though not entirely removed, these
spectres. He is well aware of the bonds which bind the villagers to “their”
play. Their vow to perform the play every ten years is compelling.
Particular roles have often been inherited in families for decades if not
longer. Only in this year’s performance are a few non-Catholics included,
but they have to pass the residency test.
At the same time, Shapiro is aware, as a Jewish writer himself, of the
compelling commitment of Jewish organizations to combat the teaching of
contempt and hatred of Jews wherever it is found. Much of his book records
the exchanges between these Jewish agencies and the Oberammergau
authorities, especially the editor of the 2000 text, and the producer.
Inevitably these conversations proved frustrating. The Jews wanted a new
play, the Oberammergauers wanted to preserve their heritage. Basically the
question is: “Can you do a good Passion Play. i.e. one without villains?”
The chapter on the staging of the play makes the point that the villagers
have always been about a century behind in their presentations. The need to
revise the highly literalist 19th century text, staging and costumes was
acknowledged only in 1970, but progress was slow, resistance substantial.
Even when the worst anti-judaic passages were omitted, and emphasis placed
instead on blaming Pilate and the Romans, this shift only raised equally
painful questions about the historical accuracy of the whole enterprise.
Most Christians, and certainly most Oberammergauers, have no doubt as to the
historical veracity of the Gospels. To accept that they were a mixture of
fact and fiction, theologically edited by their authors to meet first
century conditions, would undermine the very foundations of their faith. But
this raises issues which go far beyond the confines of a small Bavarian
village.
Shapiro’s scepticism extends to his analysis of the Oberammergau myths, both
about the play’s origins and about the spiritual otherworldliness of the
villagers. The contrast between their reputation and the reality became very
apparent during the Nazi years. He pertinently suggests that it was not just
political opportunism which led so many villagers to support the regime. To
what extent had years of proclaiming the play’s anti-judaic diatribes made
them willing accomplices in Hitler’s antisemitic crusade? The Vatican’s
current attempts to draw a distinction between Christian anti-judaism (now
repudiated) and Nazi antisemitism was certainly not apparent in Hitler’s
Bavaria. Religious fervour and racial nationalism, at least at first,
blended closely. Yet Shapiro could have noted that, as the Nazi persecution
of the Catholic Church increased, so did the traditional villagers’
hostility to the Party’s machinations. So their post-1945 claims to have
opposed the Nazi goals were not entirely a hypocritical evasion of the facts
of the past. But he is right to point out that the post-war circumstances
and the need to find new funds abroad in order to stage the play again
dictated a selective and discreet silence. By 1950 the rehabilitation of
Oberammergau had successfully taken place. But not surprisingly Shapiro
remains sceptical as to how completely the eradication of antisemitism has
been achieved.
The final chapter outlines the difficulties faced by the current director,
Christian Stückl, in trying to present the Passion Play as a relevant
up-to-date piece of theatre. This is no longer to be a peasant pageant,
stressing the villagers’ devotional piety. The clash between religious
traditions and artistic innovation is clear, as is Stückl’s intention not to
satisfy the audience’s expectations, but to challenge them. The text for
2000 now satisfies the Vatican’s desired position on the role of the Jews,
though still containing hints of Christian triumphalism and supersessionism.
Shapiro’s sympathies are clearly with the reformers. But it is notable that
a Jewish American writer of his standing should be ready to applaud, rather
than to condemn, the Oberammergauers’ continued enterprise, even to the
point of teaching the correct Hebrew pronunciation to this year’s Jesus.
JSC

1b) Arlie J.Hoover, God, Britain, and Hitler in World War II: The View of
the British Clergy, 1939-1945. Westport and London: Praeger 1999. pp xii. +
148 GPB 40.00
There is, Richard Pierard observes at the outset of this book, a great
mountain of literature about the Second World War now available to the
student and scholar, but little of it explores the religious dimension of
the conflict. This will not, of course come as news to the readers of this
Newsletter, but it does no harm to hear that particular drum banged loudly
and insistently again. In fact, this work is the third volume in a trio of
studies by Arlie Hoover of ‘clerical nationalism’ in Germany and Britain in
the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It surveys a quantity, by no means
exhaustive, of primary material published in Britain by Christian writers,
clerical and lay, between 1939 and 1945. It also draws some valuable
material from the archbishops’ collections at Lambeth Palace Library.
The emphases of the survey are shown by the index: here are doses of Cosmo
Lang, George Bell, William Temple, Dr.R.Davies, ‘John Hadham’ (the unexposed
James Parkes), Martyn Lloyd-Jones, William Paton, Dorothy Sayers, Leslie
Weatherhead, W.R.Matthews and V.A.Demant, all of them in lively, vocal form.
Hoover’s approach is mapped out in the table of contents: “The Legacy of the
Great War’; ‘1939:War Again?’; ‘Dealing with Pacifism’; ‘The Enemy:
Fascism-Nazism’; ‘1945: A New Order?’ The substance of the book is a
discussion of contemporary opinions, expressed and exchanged freely and
powerfully over the whole six year period.
However, the question of context is a worry. The individual writers walk
across a thematic landscape staked out by the author himself, but they do
not inhabit a very explicit historical environment. Little is said about
them, their own religious traditions or their theological backgrounds. One
might not know whether or not Davis was an Anglican or a Methodist, or what
being such things might mean to such people. Lewis Mumford, an American,
appears far more persistently than Archbishop Hinsley or Bishop Henson (who
would not have been flattered by two references). In one important sense,
this does not matter profoundly: the pro-war Christian consensus seldom if
ever spoke a denominational language. But it does suggest that the book is
not growing out of a sensitive and intimate appreciation of a particular
historical culture, which lived and breathed in particular ways. For
instance, the absence of Bell’s landmark volume Christianity and World Order
is a surprise and a disappointment. It is exactly the kind of expansive
treatment which would have deepened Hoover’s account. After all, one can
only get so much out of sermons which must be short and generalizing
themselves.
But Hoover also seeks to make bolder claims, since this a very personal,
polemical work, and its philosophical targets lie almost as much in the
present as in the past. Readers will either enjoy its robust, open manner,
or instead find it rather obscuring, and shift unhappily in their chairs.
Hoover takes aim primarily at contemporary philosophical fads. He makes his
dislikes abundantly clear in the chapter on Liberal Humanism, when he
launches a general onslaught against all kinds of cultural assumptions and
fascinations, historical and contemporary: relativism, rationalism,
materialism, modernism. Humanism, writes Hoover, was characterized by
’empirical prejudice’ (p.80); while ‘Liberal Humanists make light of sin and
evil’ (p.85). The shortcomings of such liberals or modernists were to be
seen in their treatment of the Bible and their pragmatic approach to
religion. Small wonder they were equally wrong in their politics, and failed
to recognize the Nazi threat until far too late. With all the advantage of
hindsight, Hoover declares himself firmly on the side of standing up to the
evil Nazi dictatorship, and states at the outset: ‘I shall make no apology
for my obvious pro-British stance in this book’.
The result is a lack of complexity, or at least leads to a certain
over-simplification For instance, Neville Chamberlain’s appeasement policy
appears a an expression of naive optimism. Then the scales fall from his
eyes. The same goes for other liberals, all in due course. Were they all
really so very dull and slow? Pacifism, meanwhile, appears but not on its
own terms. It is something that had to be ‘dealt with’. Hoover himself
describes the rationalism of ‘modern intellectuals’ as ‘ a strange state of
stupidity’ (p.81) At times, it is these intellectuals who seem to be his
principal targets. He would appear to be using the Christian writers of the
Second World War as examples for a different philosophical debate of his own
making.
But there are things of value too, The British Christian understanding of
National Socialism is described with clarity in a way not done before. And
the contributions of Christian writers and thinkers in Britain to the plans
for reconstructing the post-war world is the subject of a stronger,
better-grounded, but rather short chapter. For their part, Praeger have
published the book very handsomely. The price is not a little daunting.
Andrew Chandler, George Bell Institute, The Queen’s College, Birmingham.U.K.

 

c) Kimmo Kääriäinen, Religion in Russia after the collapse of Communism.
Religious Renaissance or secular state. Lewiston,N.York/Queenston,
Ontario/Lampeter,Wales: Edwin Mellen Press 2000 201pp
Sociological surveys on the subject of religion are notoriously inadequate.
The subject is too vast, the questions too broad, the responses too
superficial. Generalizations are necessarily too sweeping, unless some tight
control is placed on the process. These shortcomings are even more evident
in a society such as Russia, where for seventy years the topic of religion
was pronounced anathema, and public opinion surveys were unknown. So the
attempt by a Finnish author, writing in competent English, to depict the
religious situation in the lands of the former Soviet Union, ten years after
the revolutionary changes of 1989, must be judged a brave attempt, but no
more.
After an initial historical chapter which ably describes the failure of
Marxism-Leninism to establish itself as the official state ideology or
ersatz civil religion, Kääriäinen takes up the question of religious values
at the end of the Communist regime. With the help of three surveys conducted
in 1991,1993 and 1996, he charts the decline of official atheism and the
resultant religious vacuum. The increase in the percentage of attributed
believers in the early 1990s was accounted for by the reaction against
Communism, but it was hardly a major source of revival or renewal.
One of the reasons for the low levels of religious beliefs and practice
which these surveys confirm is the long absence of any systematic
presentation of Christian beliefs, so that the majority of adults no longer
profess the faith of their grandmothers, even though these latter are
credited with the active preservation of what little religion remains.
Certainly it is hardly a novelty to learn that in post-Communist Russia
there is no coherent theory or ideology which provides an explanation for
existence or the purpose of life. Although over time the number of believers
and seekers has grown, it is still notable that the highest percentage is
among people with the least education. And by digging deeper, one would find
that in most cases the professed faith in God was almost completely devoid
of content. A large variety is notable in how the nature of God is
understood, often in a non-Christian manner. The forms in which
religiousness is expressed have become idiosyncratic and eclectic.
Yet the sacred does not disappear. In response to national tragedy, recourse
to the churches was notable But what does this mean in terms of belief? The
disfunction between practice and belief characterizes a great deal of Russia
‘s religious life. Yet, as a national institution, the Russian Orthodox
Church still represents stability, and cultivates a nostalgia for the past.
Most Russians want their great cathedrals to be restored so that they can
visit them for special occasions, even while making vague and weak religious
affirmations. But such findings hardly required elaborate sociological
surveys.
The best part of the work is where Kääriäinen examines the institutional
dimension of religion, in particular the tactics of the Russian Orthodox
Church to find a new legal relationship with the state. Despite the evidence
that only a minority of Russians now claim to belong to the Orthodox Church,
its leaders nevertheless portray themselves as the upholders of a national
church establishment which deserves special privileges. Freedom of religion
for all threatened these claims. Yet the Orthodox leaders are even now
seeking the aid of the state, which persecuted them for so long, in order to
regulate the competition from other sects or communities. What a paradox!
The state authorities, including President Yeltsin, were reluctant to give
in to this pressure, and were upheld by such groups as the Russian
Protestants and Catholics. But these denominations still suffer from being
considered “foreign”, not least from the amount of foreign aid they receive.
The well-known anti-ecumenical stance of the Russian Orthodox Church has
undoubtedly made any accommodation or shift towards religious pluralism more
difficult. But by claiming the position of upholding Russia’s ethnic
traditions and defending its historic culture against international, secular
or materialist undermining, the Orthodox Church has at least gained a
positive response from 90% of the population.
Russians who consider themselves traditional believers are largely women,
while those still professing atheism are predominantly male, and
significantly more educated than the average Russian. Such features have
surprisingly remained constant despite all the political changes. The
surveys would therefore seem to confirm the view that Christian belief acts
as a compensation for lower status, or a means for attaining an inner
personal peace.
Interestingly the questions from these surveys dealing with ethical issues
show that religion plays only a minor role in Russian morality. The strict
nature of Soviet society and practice, except over abortion and divorce, may
still be the cause for the retention of high personal moral standards. But
as the author point out, the real crisis is elsewhere. The new political and
economic factors and developments cry out for the expounding of new
doctrines of social ethics. Unfortunately the Russian Orthodox Church never
had any social ethics, laying its emphasis instead on other-worldly
mysticism. In any case, to expect the Church to produce solutions for the
“moral crisis” in the current incoherence of Russia’s internal developments,
is unrealistic. In this respect Russia is not all that different from other
European countries.
Kääriäinen’s conclusions are rather similar to those of other western
observers, i.e. S. Ramet. Most Russians are seeking an eclectic mix of
religious attitudes, which make them reluctant to embrace the obligatory
doctrines or practices of any one religious institution. Nevertheless one
should not discount the influence of the Orthodox tradition as a means of en
hancing a shared ethnic identity. But this again is not a unique situation,
even though Russia is the one European country whose religious traditions
were interrupted for more than seventy years. It remains to be seen whether
the Russian Orthodox Church is capable of growing out of and beyond its past
shortcomings and restrictive attitudes in order to embrace the new
opportunities for renewal and growth in the new millennium.
JSC

d) ed.T.M.Devine, Scotland’s Shame? Bigotry and Sectarianism in Modern
Scotland, Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 2000. 281 pp GBP 9.99
This is the story of James MacMillan, Scotland’s leading composer, who spoke
at the Edinburgh International Festival of 1999 on anti-Catholicism in
Scotland. All hell broke loose. Four academics rushed to the attack, none of
them having heard him or read his text, but wishing to damp down debate on a
subject usually brushed under the carpet. In fact the MacMillan speech,
which is one of no less than twenty-one papers in this book, was quite
reasonable, apart from a rather odd notion that transubstantiation leads to
artistic or musical sensibility. And that anti-Catholicism is still a strong
force must be obvious, though it is more obvious to the outsider than to the
native Scot who believes that Scotland is egalitarian and prejudice does not
exist.
For anyone who does not want to read all these articles, the one by Gerry
P.T.Finn is probably enough. And Finn does deal with the problem of Catholic
schools which are seen by most Scots as the cause of prejudice and division.
Most contributors to this volume, Catholic or Protestant, have not the
remotest idea of how they came about. Finn argues that the state schools set
up in 1872 were effectively Presbyterian, leading Catholics – mainly
immigrants from Ireland – and other minorities to set up their own schools.
It was these underfunded schools which were given state support in 1918,
thereby allowing Catholics to achieve upward social mobility and ultimate
assimilation.
There is a great deal in this book about prejudice, which may still exist,
and discrimination, which it is argued, does not. But here it refers to
discrimination in the workplace, which has disappeared as Scottish industry
and commerce came under the control of foreign managers who cared nothing
for religion. The implication is that most Scots wanted to keep Catholics
down, but were prevented from doing so, And the paper which uses statistics
most skillfully concludes that some discrimination does still exist, though
it is not nearly as bad as it was.
But other papers deal with the idea that, “To be Scottish was to be
Presbyterian .”, and there was no other way to be Scottish. To this
MacMillan answers his various critics by saying,: “Scotland needs more
consensus and conformity like it needs a hole in the head”. Amen.
Gavin White, St Andrews, Scotland.

 

 

 

2) Book Notes:
a) ed. M.Hutchinson and O.Kalu, A Global Faith. Essays on Evangelicalism and
Globalization. Sydney: Centre for the Study of Australian Christianity 1998
264pp.
This collection of stimulating, often provocative essays deserves to be
widely known, not only because three of our List-members are contributors,
but also because the subject matter has a number of historical dimensions.
Reg Ward, for instance, discusses the 18th century missionary impulse in
global terms, while Don Lewis has some pertinent things to suggest about
future historical research. Dick Pierard reviews the world-wide spread of
Protestant denominations beyond Europe in various confessional families, and
stresses the resulting tension with the ecumenical aspiration of bringing
all Christians together in one undivided church of Christ. Erich Geldbach
makes some valid points about the character of German evangelicals over the
last two centuries, while the British historian John Wolffe’s analysis of
“Historical Method and Christian Vision” pursues in greater depth some of
the concerns about the writing of church history, as voiced in last month’s
editorial in this Newsletter. As Jan Hofmeyr states: “The current challenges
for doing and writing church history in a multicultural context . . include
the need for theological consideration, ecclesiological awareness,
ecumenical openness, missiological sharpness, an indigenous realization and
scientific reliability” Some task! These essays, despite their relatively
unknown publisher, can be strongly recommended. They prompt discussion on
the significance of an increasingly global culture for Christianity as a
whole and the extent to which it has been responsible for such developments.

b) ed K.Koschorke, “Christen und Gewürze” Konfrontation und Interaktion
kolonialer und indigener Christentumsvarianten. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht 1998 296pp
Hofmeyr’s remarks quoted above can equally apply to this stimulating volume,
which will appeal to the same audience. Third World church history has for
too long been regarded as an aspect of the history of missions. But the
achievement of independence by so many former colonies of European powers
has led to a revival of indigenous Christian communities, some dating from
earlier centuries, and consequently a growth of interest in their history as
part of the search for a new identity. In 1997 a conference was held in
Germany to explore the comparative aspects of the interaction between
colonial and indigenous Christianity. the results are now published under
the jaunty title “Christians and Spices” in the first of what is hoped will
be a series of volumes, appearing in both English and German. The
contributors are all academics from different parts of the world and
different denominations. Their topics cover episodes over the past five
centuries and all parts of the globe. Their findings are highly diversified
and pluralistic, showing how the impact of European Christianity on
colonized territories and the responses of the indigenous peoples, including
those incorporated into Christian communities, was enormously varied.
Although their methodology is traditional, the results of this research are
often highly provocative in arousing an awareness of culture contacts and
conflicts hitherto not sufficiently appreciated by mission-church
historians. It marks a refreshingly novel approach towards presenting
non-European Christianity as an important subject for research and
reflection.

c) ed. E.Gatz, Kirche und Katholizismus seit 1945. Vol 1: Mittel-,West- und
Nordeuropa. Paderborn: Schöningh 1998 368pp
This is the first of a four-part series designed to give to German-speaking
readers an overview of the socio-political position of the Catholic Church
around the world in its established form over the past fifty years. This
volume supposedly covers central, west and northern Europe, but includes
neither the British Isles nor the Iberian peninsular, and stops short of
regarding either Poland or the Czech Republic as belonging to central
Europe. Each nation covered, i.e. Scandinavia (including Iceland), the
Benelux countries, France and the German-speaking lands, is given a separate
chapter, differing in length according to their importance, and ranging from
2 pages for Iceland to 100 for Germany.
The style is that of an encyclopaedia, informative, factual and precise.
Each chapter provides a bibliography and full footnotes for further
research. Controversies are mentioned but partiality avoided, as is any
description of theological argumentation. So the work will be principally
useful as a reference tool and for comparative purposes.
The major events, such as the Second Vatican Council, the erosion of the
Catholic milieu, the decline in numbers of ordained clergy and the effect of
secular trends such as feminism, are well covered from a non-critical point
of view. But by dealing with each country separately, the impression is only
strengthened that national historio-political factors are as influential, if
not more so, than a common theology. Variety and pluralism still
characterize the Catholic lands at least in this section of its homeland,
Europe.

With best wishes
John S.Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

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September 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- September 2000- Vol.VI, no. 9
 
Dear Friends,
I trust that you have had a rewarding time over the summer months, either on
holiday or busy with research. If the latter, please share some of your
ideas or findings with other members of this Newsletter. We shall be glad to
hear from you.
For our part, Ann and I had a splendid holiday in the South Tyrol, in the
shadow of the Dolomites, where I am glad to say we found Counter-Reformation
popular piety flourishing in the traditional manner. Since then, the lure of
serendipity and of Vancouver’s sun-kissed beaches has led me to Simon Schama
‘s massive but magnificent tome, Rembrandt’s Eyes, which is wonderfully
evocative of the early seventeenth century. Or, for those wedded to
detective stories, I can recommend
Antonia Fraser’s recounting of “The Gunpowder Plot Terror and Faith in
1605”, written with sympathy for the persecuted Catholics, and explicit on
the religious intolerance of those days.
Contents:
1) Editorial
2)Bonhoeffer House appeal
3) Book reviews:

a) The Gestapo and Gertrude Luckner
b) Pogany, In my Brother’s Image
c) Religionspolitik in Deutschland: Greschat Festschrift
d) Safranski, Martin Heidegger. Between good and evil

4) New articles

a) J.Moses: Bonhoeffer and Church Unity
b) G.Johnson, British Social Democracy and Religion

1) Editorial:
Our distinguished colleague, Reg Ward, once remarked that
“nineteenth-century critics were entirely mistaken in supposing that
political economy was the dismal science; it is in fact ecclesiastical
history”. From this almost Anabaptist viewpoint, the long centuries of what
Ward called “the ingrained lovelessness of organized Christianity” do not
encourage much cheerfulness. But even those of us who adopt a more balanced
stance might well want to support the thrust of his saying, at least as far
as the teaching of ecclesiastical, or as some would prefer, church history
goes.
Over the past thirty years there has been a slow melting of the frigidity
with which church history was regarded in most “secular” universities in
North America. Defended by many as a necessary adjunct to the separation of
church and state, this disdain was in fact due to the ideological hostility
of the majority of the professoriate towards religion in general, and
Christianity in particular. The controversial misinterpretation of the
alleged conflict between science and religion took its unfortunate toll. And
while, for most history departments, it was inconceivable to teach the
history of the middle ages without reference to religion, the opposite was
true for the more recent centuries. Even today, European or World Surveys
can charge through twentieth century events with no, or only the barest,
mention of religion, let alone the church.
To be sure, recent decades have also seen the growth of departments of
Religion or Religious Studies. But these have not always been a blessing to
church history. In fact, all too often, the subject has been tossed around
between History and Religion, and departmental barriers have usually
prevented any profitable collaboration. Or again, the whole matter is
regarded as one which should be left up to the nearest theological seminary.
So one may assert that the teaching of church history has not advanced in
any significant way in recent years.
Part of the problem lies in the subject’s vastness and incoherence. Anyone
faced with teaching a survey of church history in one academic year is
confronted with an overwhelming task. But to select certain periods as
singularly significant is invidious. Of course, the choice is usually made
on denominational grounds, since Catholics prefer the patristic period,
Anglicans and Lutherans have to emphasize the sixteenth century, while those
in the Puritan-Protestant tradition stress the seventeenth or later
centuries. Sadly, despite the growth of ecumenical understanding, the
plethora of rival and mutually exclusive accounts of the church history of
the past still exist, and still influence current attitudes, as can be seen
in Bosnia, Serbia or Northern Ireland. Sadly, too, in this situation, the
most recent church history of the twentieth century is often sacrificed from
the curriculum, even though a convincing case can be made for its being much
more relevant to today’s students than the niceties of earlier periods.
Paradoxically however, recent years have also seen a splendid flood of
monographs, especially in the field of contemporary church history. When I
began to edit this Newsletter nearly seven years ago, I never expected the
appearance of so many excellent and scholarly works. German church history
scholars, in both the major churches, of course, have the benefit of
established university positions, support for doctoral candidates and for
publication. But even where such advantages are not available, we have
notable studies in many different languages, exploring many different
aspects of the churches’ life. Outstanding biographies, such as Eberhard
Bethge’s unrivaled study of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, have set an impressive
standard for this genre. Alternatively, it could be argued that the
long-running and heated controversy seen in the numerous studies of Pope
Pius XII helps the cause of contemporary church history, by revealing
clearly enough the dangers of political bias and one-sided partisanship. At
least they serve to show that ecclesiastical history is not as dismal as
might be thought. In fact, one might suggest that, in the kind of
publications reviewed in this Newsletter, we have a most encouraging
testimony to the intellectual industry and integrity of contemporary church
historians. Long may it continue.

2) Bonhoeffer House appeal
A recent letter has been received inviting donations towards the upkeep of
the house in Berlin where Dietrich Bonhoeffer lived with his parents from
1935 until his arrest in April 1943. The hope is to maintain the house as a
centre of witness to the German Resistance movement, where mementos of
Bonhoeffer’s life and work can be displayed, and where seminars and
educational tours can be held. Anyone wishing to help should contact either
J.P.Kelley, International Bonhoeffer Society, 4236 White St., Lynchburg,
Virginia 24502, USA, or The Bonhoeffer House, Marienburger Allee 43, D-14055
Berlin-Charlottenburg, Germany.
3a) ed. Hans-Josef Wollasch, “Betrifft: Nachrichtenzentrale des Erzbischofs
Gröber in Freiburg”. Die Ermittlungsakten der Geheimen Staatspolizei gegen
Gertrud Luckner 1942-1944. Konstanz: UVK Universitatsverlag 1999. 254pp
If I may be allowed an autobiographical note, one of the most vivid and
fascinating evenings of my career was spent dining with Gertrud Luckner,
when she recalled for me her eighteen months’ ordeal in the Nazi
concentration camp for women, Ravensbrück, from 1943 to 1945. Gertrud was
born in England, but was taken shortly afterwards to Germany until she
returned as a student at the Quaker college at Selly Oak, Birmingham. There
she was greatly attracted by the ideals of pacifism and internationalism, of
which she became a life-long champion. After she returned to Germany to take
a doctorate in social work, she joined the Catholic Church and was
subsequently employed by the main Catholic Welfare agency in Germany,
Caritas. Her humanitarian concerns, her indefatigable readiness to assist
the victims of injustice, and her often outspoken criticism of Nazism, all
joined to impel her to do what she could for those attacked by the new
regime. In particular she became the champion of those Catholics of Jewish
origin, who were often cold-shouldered by their fellow-Catholics influenced
by Nazi propaganda, but also rejected as renegades by existing Jewish
organizations. Not surprisingly she used her contacts with Quaker friends
abroad to seek help, and if necessary to assist in emigration. But as the
Nazi net tightened, such activities became more and more dangerous, and
Gertrude herself attracted the unwelcome notice and surveillance of the
Gestapo.
One of the few collections of Gestapo records to survive the war was in
Düsseldorf. Amongst them was a file several hundred pages thick dealing with
Gertrud Luckner. In 1947 she and her lawyer were allowed to see this and to
photostat some 200 pages, but the originals have since disappeared. She
hoped to make use of these copies for her own autobiography, which alas! was
never to be completed. But now Caritas’ senior archivist, Hans Josef
Woillasch, has put together a scholarly edition of the surviving pages,
which clearly record the diligent ferocity and professional inhumanity of
the Gestapo agents.
By 1942 the Gestapo was fully convinced that the Catholic Church sided with
their enemies, and that Archbishop Gröber, despite his earlier enthusiasm
for the Nazis in 1933, was now an implacable foe. In August 1942, the
Gestapo determined to follow up the news that the Catholic bishops had
decided to establish, under Gröber’s auspices, an Aid Committee for baptized
Jews, with headquarters in Freiburg. They immediately concluded that this
was a disguised espionage and information centre designed to conduct
ideological and political exchanges with enemies of the Reich both at home
and abroad, through contacts in a number of European countries, the USA and
the Vatican.
Thanks to information supplied by two employees of Caritas, it didn’t take
the Gestapo long to discover that Gröber’s principal agent for this task was
Dr Gertrud Luckner, whose background and activities were promptly
investigated and recorded in detail.
More specifically she was suspected of contacting Jewish circles throughout
the whole country and giving them support, or alternatively of helping them
to conceal their property. She was also accused of organizing measures to
let Jews escape illegally from German territory.
As a result, from September 1942, investigations were intensified. Luckner’s
mail was opened and censored, and the names of her correspondents were
noted. In January 1943, the Gestapo in Berlin ordered their agents to put
her under personal surveillance and to report on her travels around the
country. It is clear that she was already aware of the dangers involved, and
had taken various measures to avoid detection of her movements. But in the
end the trap closed. In March 1943, she was arrested on the train while
attempting to elude her pursuers by going to Berlin.
To the Gestapo’s fury, news reached Freiburg almost at once that Gertrud had
been arrested. The Archbishop protested – in vain. It was months before it
was known where she was being held, let alone why. In June 1943, the
Archbishop wrote to his superior, Cardinal Bertram, to say that he had heard
rumours that she had been “dealt with”. Personally he believed she would
survive because she was entirely innocent, and had devoted herself solely to
the welfare and charitable assistance of Catholic “non-aryans”. But the
Gestapo clearly thought otherwise.
The editor rightly notes that, although the documents do not specifically
say so, her arrest may well have been connected with the simultaneous
Gestapo investigations into illegal smuggling of endangered Jews to
Switzerland, which resulted in the incarceration of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and
his brother-in-law, Hans Dohnanyi, only two weeks later in April 1943. Small
wonder that the Gestapo demanded that this “extremely cautious and
experienced agent” should be sentenced to protective custody, since “her
behaviour is conducive to endangering the existence and safety of our people
and state, in particular by her pro-Jewish activities and connections to
circles hostile to the state. If released, she would be likely to continue
to act in a manner damaging to the Reich”.
Putting her in protective custody in a concentration camp meant that no
regular trial would take place, which might well have set off alarm bells in
the Catholic community. Instead she was held in Ravensbrück until liberated
in April 1945.
Despite, or more probably because of, the sufferings she had endured and
witnessed, Gertrud resolved to redouble her efforts on behalf of the Nazis’
victims, and successfully championed this cause for the next fifty years. At
the same time she became one of the principal advocates in Germany for a
revision of Catholic theological attitudes towards Judaism, a struggle in
which she was notably vindicated at the Second Vatican Council. It remains
to be hoped that a full biography will soon be written in order to pay
tribute to one who was truly a “righteous Gentile”, and, by her valiant
resistance, a symbol of the “other Germany” during those disastrous Nazi
years.
JSC
b) Eugene L.Pogany, In my brother’s image. Two brothers separated by faith
after the Holocaust. New York,Viking 2000, 327pp
Gyuri and Miklos were born shortly before the first world war to a Hungarian
Jewish family, but were brought up as Catholics from an early age. They
lived through the trials of inter-war Hungary, which included the rising
tensions between Jews and Christians, especially after the Nazi shadow fell
over eastern Europe. Gyuri became a priest but fortunately was allowed to
travel to Italy in 1940 and remained there for the rest of the war, acting
as secretary to the renowned faith healer, Padre Pio, in a remote rural
sanctuary where the issue of his Jewish origins never caused any problems.
Miklos, however, was caught up in the increasing hostilities in Hungary.
Treated as a Jew, despite his Catholic allegiance, he was drafted in to a
labour service battalion, was badly mistreated and eventually sent to
Bergen-Belsen, where he barely survived. The experience of the Church’s
failure to stand by him or the Jewish community as a whole led him to
renounce his Catholic faith and return to his ancestral Judaism. After the
war both men emigrated to the United States and were reunited after nearly
twenty years apart. But each came to regard the other’s religious stance as
a betrayal, so the bond between them as identical twins could never be fully
restored.
Miklos’ son, Eugene, has now recorded this tragic story on the basis of his
family’s memories. By a striking act of imaginative reconstruction, he
succeeds in recovering his relatives’ interactions and even in elaborating
the nuances of their characters. His account consists largely of
conversations, fictionally composed, but representing a genuine attempt to
participate in their lives and to explore the many critical turning points
they faced. Above all, his concern is to portray the religiously and
historically turbulent landscape of Jews and Christians in the century of
the Holocaust, by
depicting his family’s struggles to survive throughout the awful
circumstances of the war, as the Nazi antisemitic tide swept across Hungary.
The support given by so many nationalist Hungarians, and more particularly
the absence of protest by the Catholic authorities against such crimes is,
for Pogany, the central pivot of his account, symbolized by the failure to
prevent the deportation, amongst so many others, of his grandmother, a
devout Catholic, to her death in Auschwitz
The intense discussions among the survivors, as here related, serves to show
how deeply the wounds and memories of suffering continued to haunt them all
with unspoken rancour and unredeemed anguish. The basic questions remained
unresolved. And the evident inadequacy of the attempts made by both
Christians and Jews to come to terms, both personally and theologically,
with the enormity of the Holocaust is here spelled out in the fictionalized
conversations between the family members. But the author nevertheless hopes
that, with this act of filial piety to all his relatives, he may contribute
towards the eventual reconciliation of the two faiths, based on their shared
loyalty towards the peace of Jerusalem.
JSC

c) ed. A.Doering-Manteuffel and Kurt Nowak, Religionspolitik in Deutschland.
Von der fruehen Neuzeit bis zur Gegenwart. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 1999, 279
pp.
This Festschrift produced on the retirement of Martin Greschat, one of our
most esteemed colleagues in Germany, covers the whole range of his interests
from the Reformation to the present. Equally significant has been his
concern to link the traditional form of church history – too much concerned
with its own affairs – with the social and secular history in which the
church operates. So the essays contributed by his colleagues, including two
foreigners, one from Britain and one from Poland, seek to pay tribute to
Greschat’s fine record of publications in this genre. Predictably, a range
of occasional essays by different authors cannot claim to be systematic.
They are either detailed accounts of some particular episode, previously
unknown or neglected, or else a useful broad survey of some particular
period, analyzing the present state of debate and research. The former
category is exemplified in the piece on the churches and the cold war in the
1950s by Doering-Manteuffel, while the latter is demonstrated in
J.Thierfelder’s helpful summary of the position of the churches during the
Weimar Republic. It is a pity that no German scholar could be found to
produce a similar overview of the churches in the Nazi period, since we need
to have an update on the present state of the controversies aroused over the
“German Christians” and the Confessing Church and their respective legacies.
The essay which I thought best fulfills Greschat’s desiderata is by the
Birmingham scholar, Hugh McLeod, “Comparing secularisations: Germany and
Britain”, which examines the social factors governing church expansion and
contraction at the end of the nineteenth century. McLeod points out that a
major difference was the toleration given in Britain to so many rivals to
the established church, whereas in Germany the heavy hand of the state
proved to be a source of weakness in the long run. “British pluralism had
led to weak institutions and relatively weak confessional identities,
together with low levels of secularism and anti-clericalism, and medium
levels of individual religious participation. The German situation, with its
two ‘big churches’ had led to more powerful institutions, more strongly
developed confessional identities, higher levels of secularism and
anticlericalism, and strongly contrasted patterns of Protestant and Catholic
religious practice.” In both countries, political and social factors brought
about a significant loss of prestige and adherence, but, as McLeod shows,
for a variety of differing reasons. These kinds of international comparisons
can indeed be highly fruitful, and deserve to be promoted more fully, in
line with Greschat’s own splendid contributions to this kind of writing.
JSC

d) Ruediger Safranski, MARTIN HEIDEGGER. BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL, trans. Ewald
Osers. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard UP, 1998.

This book is a translation of EIN MEISTER AUS DEUTSCHLAND. HEIDEGGER UND
SEINE ZEIT, published by Ruediger Safranski in
1994. The book gives one of the best accounts yet of Martin Heidegger,
his life and work. There are, nevertheless, basic problems with it that
need to be addressed in any future work on Heidegger. Thus it should be
seen as a benchmark of how far research into Heidegger has progressed,
and how far it still has to go.
Heidegger was one of the leading philosophers of the 20th century, and one
of the most controversial. Major questions remain about the moral, political
and philosophical significance of his life and work. Safranski was venturing
into a large minefield with his book,and he knew it: “Heidegger’s story is a
long one–whether the story of his life or
of his philosophy. It covers the passions and disasters of a whole
century” (ix). Though Safranski’s conclusions remain unfortunately
ambiguous, his work does clarify the most prominent issues at stake.
The main threads of the story deal with Heidegger’s life and times; in this
Safranski is a good historian. He has gathered material from the most
important sources on Heidegger, and provides a largely balanced version.
There is little that is really “new” here, but Safranski does offer a
compelling overview of the man and his context..
He tells of Heidegger’s childhood in Messkirch, near Lake Constance, and of
his early commitment to the Catholic Church (1-54). Until the outbreak of
the First World War, Heidegger seemed to “have a chance of getting the
still-vacant chair of Christian philosophy” (55) at the University of
Freiburg. From 1914 until 1927, however, with the publication of
BEING AND TIME, Heidegger underwent a major transformation of his
perspective. By 1919, because of his new interest in time and history,
Catholicism had become “problematic and unacceptable” to him (107). Under
the influence of Edmund Husserl, Heidegger turned to phenomenology to deal
with “factual life” (109). In addition he began studying St.Paul and Luther,
which seems to have encouraged him in a more “Protestant” direction. By the
mid-1920s, Heidegger wanted to “tear life loose from God” (112). During this
time, he had extensive discussions with and considerable influence on the
Protestant theologian Rudolf Bultmann. He also began an affair with Hannah
Arendt, who became “his muse for BEING AND TIME” (140).
He had moved away from the strictly Catholic understanding of good and evil
of his youth, and was attempting to find a new set of values following the
leads of the Greeks, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche. Though he never accepted
the label, Heidegger’s work would eventually be linked to that of Karl
Jaspers and others under the rubric of “existential philosophy” (132). The
problem with this development in Heidegger’s case was that it did not have
enough ethical content to resist the enthusiasms of the Nazi movement in the
1930s. Safranski tells the awful and mysterious story of his involvement
with Nazism in considerable detail, from the first explicit remarks in
1931-2 (226-28) to the infamous
“Rector’s Speech” in 1933 (242-47), to “denazification” under French
occupation after the war (332-52). One of the most absorbing chapters
deals with the question: “Is Heidegger Anti-Semitic?” (248-63). Safranski
reaches a split decision: “Certainly not in the sense of the ideological
lunacy of Nazism” (254); “Nor, on the other hand, did the (soon to be
revealed) brutality
of Nazi anti-Semitism deter him from the movement. He did not support its
actions, but he accepted them” (256). Furthermore there is the dubious tale
of “Heidegger’s silence” (420). He never accepted responsibility for the
crimes of Nazism, and never publicly acknowledged either his complicity with
the movement nor his change of heart against it.
One of the problems of Safranski’s book is his own ambiguity over the case,
for his formulations seem to gloss over the terrible irony of both
Heidegger’s political complicity and his philosophical greatness. In the
first place, Heidegger had enthusiastically supported the Nazi movement in
the early 1930s; later, however, he had withdrawn from his university
rectorship under its auspices. One of the greatest philosophers of the
century had gone along with one of its most criminal regimes. His case is an
example of the problems philosophers–at least since Plato–have had with
politics. Evidently, Heidegger’s career did not fall “between good and
evil”, as Safranski’s English title suggests, but rather, both in his
politics and his philosophy, he managed to exhibit a highly regrettable
ethical ambivalence.
Other problems in Safranski’s account represent the classic difficulties
that
historians have in dealing with philosophy. As he tells the story of the
life, Safranski gives an account of the writing, from the earliest to the
latest examples.
Whereas his account of the contents is clear enough, his conclusion is
that Heidegger offered little to the history of philosophy: “He did not
create any constructive philosophy in the sense of a world picture or a
moral doctrine. There are no ‘results’ of Heidegger’s thinking, in the
sense that there are ‘results’ of the philosophy of Leibniz, Kant, or
Schopenhauer” (429). Yet surely a philosophy that emphasized “authenticity”
can not be seen as basically empty. And if this work were empty, then why
has it inspired so many, from Arendt herself to Sartre, Gadamer, Derrida,
and Richard Rorty? Instead of trying to brush aside the vexed question of
Heidegger’s real significance, Safranski would have been better off to have
acknowledged that a probably very nasty person was an outstanding
philosopher, and that that very complexity could explain the significance of
the case.
Any biographer of Heidegger needs a more complicated conception of
philosophy in order to integrate more effectively the story of his life and
writings.
And any such biographer writing in German also needs a different
translator, or perhaps a different publisher. To be sure, the translation
captures the basic qualities of Safranski’s original. Yet one of the crucial
ironies of the story is lost in the mistranslation of the title. In German,
the
title is EIN MEISTER AUS DEUTSCHLAND. The words are a citation from Paul
Celan’s poem, “Death Fugue,” which reads: “Death is a master from Germany”,
and deals with an imagined concentration camp. The English subtitle,
“between good and evil,” further obscures the reference to the poem and the
Holocaust. In sum, Safranski’s work represents a step forward in our
understanding of Martin Heidegger. But the real work of synthesizing the
historical and the philosophical accounts, as well as the problem of
finding the proper title for this enterprise, remains to be done.
Steven Taubeneck, Vancouver

 

 

4) New articles:
a) John Moses, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Prioritization of Church Unity
(Oekumene) in
The Journal of Religious History (Sydney), Vol 24, no. 2, June 2000,
196-212.
This helpful analysis of the centrality of Bonhoeffer’s ideas about church
unity points out that he saw the universal ecumenical church as the
theologically correct answer to the challenge of the German Christians’
acceptance of a nationalist and racist creed. Already from 1932 Bonhoeffer
recognized that the ecumenical movement must become more than a polite
collection of liberal enthusiasts, but rather should be the chief weapon in
forging a true unity, preferably through an ecumenical council, to give
expression to the will of Christ through His church, especially in the
pursuit of peace. Ecumenical solidarity was vital for the survival of
Christianity in Germany, and the credibility of the ecumenical movement
depended on how it assessed the German church struggle. These themes were
forcibly expressed in 1934 and 1935, but the results were disappointing –
and indeed have remained so ever since. Moses joins with those who believe
the churches still need to devise a model for a peace council which not only
discusses the possibility of peace but really does establish peace.
b) Graham Johnson, British Social Democracy and Religion in The Journal of
Ecclesiastical History, January 2000, 94 ff
At the end of the nineteenth century the drive to promote social democratic
goals brought together a broad spectrum of idealists. Some were outright
secularists, others materialists of a more or less Marxist variety, others
however drew their inspiration from Christian roots. While the former group
saw organized religion, and Christianity in particular, as the enemy of the
working class, the latter section still believed it possible to derive a
political platform from the teachings of the New Testament. Johnson capably
shows how these two groups lived in considerable tension during the
formative years, and indeed how these seemingly incompatible positions were
and are still present in the British Labour Party.
With best wishes to you all
John Conway

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July/August 2000 Newsletter

 

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

 

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

 

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

 

Newsletter- July 2000- Vol.VI, no. 7-8
 

Dear Friends,
I trust that all of you in the northern hemisphere are enjoying sunshine and
warm weather, and possibly a chance to relax with a good book on your
holidays. Here are a few to choose from for those who can’t tear themselves
away, or find detective stories intensely boring by comparison to church
history!

Contents:
1) KZG Conference 2000
2) Book reviews: a) Barnett, Bystanders
b) Furuya, Japanese Theology
c) Garrard-Burnett, Protestantism in Guatemala
3) Conference Report: Religion and the Cold War
4) Film Review: Bonhoeffer: Agent of Grace.

1) This year’s meeting of the Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte fraternity will take
place from 21st to 24th September in Strasbourg, France under the leadership
of Professor Frederic Hartweg. The theme is “Kirche/Religion –
Staat/Gesellschaft. Deutschland – Frankreich. Antagonismen und Annaehrung im
19 und 20 Jahrhundert.” Enquiries should be directed to dpal@umb.u-strasb.fr
The most recent issue of the journal Kirchliche Zeitgeschichte, Vol 12, no.
2, 1999 is devoted to the theme ‘Europabilder der Kirchen in der
Nachkriegszeit”. This contains the papers given at the 1998 KZG conference
in Sweden, and has a number of interesting articles on the period
immediately following the second world war, including analyses of the
policies of the major international church bodies such as the Vatican, the
Lutheran World Federation and the World Council of Churches. This issue also
includes a 100-page bibliography of recent books in our field.

2) Book reviews:
a) Victoria Barnett, Bystanders. Conscience and Complicity during the
Holocaust.
Westport, Conn/London: Greenwood Press, 1999 185pp
Some years ago Victoria Barnett wrote “For the Soul of the People” which was
based on interviews with surviving members of the Confessing Church, that
section of the German Evangelical Church which had resolutely combated the
heresies and distortions of their pro-Nazi opponents, the so-called ‘German
Christians’. She had obviously expected that such staunch defenders of
theological orthodoxy would also have mobilized their forces to protest the
Nazis’ criminal actions, especially the persecution of the Jews. But to her
dismay, most of her interviewees had remained passively silent, as
bystanders.
This disappointment prompted her to undertake a more thorough examination of
the role of bystanders in general during the tragic events of the Holocaust.
She asks all the right questions about the context, not only in Germany but
throughout Nazi-occupied Europe, as well as about the motives, in so far as
they are ascertainable, and also about the ethical and theological issues
which conditioned the bystanders’ behaviour, and which she believes are not
so different today. Clearly her hope is to show how the ethical response of
caring for the welfare of one’s neighbours is essential if we are to avoid a
repetition of the Holocaust in the future.
Nazi Germany sought to impose its totalitarian will on all the population.
Yet, even in such a dictatorship, we can find instances of independent
thought and action. So the frequently-used claim that bystanders were
powerless or intimidated into silence has to be examined closely lest it be
just a convenient excuse for moral failure. How many of those bystanders
were in fact in sympathy with the Nazis’ criminal policies, even if they
were not directly involved? Or to what extent did they “redefine” their
ethical systems in order to view the persecution of the Jews as a “good”? Or
can their individual behaviour be seen as the logical result of the
abdication of free will and the glorification of an immoral state?
So too the institutional responses to Nazi crimes were frequently ambivalent
by supporting state policies and carrying out state orders, by facilitating
complicity and blocking effective resistance by individuals. Certainly, even
in the churches, the few who sought to express dissent or to show solidarity
with the victims, were evidently discouraged by the readiness of the church
leaders to side silently with state authority. On the international level,
efforts to rescue Jews from the Nazi clutches were frequently hampered by
bureaucratic short-sightedness, institutional policies, or indifference,
which were all a form of bystanders. So too was the widespread denial that
it was possible to do anything to stop what was happening. In the absence of
any overarching international institution, or more importantly of any
universally-held sense of moral obligation, the saving of Jewish lives never
gained the priority which we now think it should have had.
Of course, as Barnett skillfully points out, evaluation of the bystanders
‘conduct has to be set in its wider context. She rightly rejects simplistic
interpretations claiming that there were really no bystanders since all
Germans were “eliminationist antisemites”. On the other side, she admits
that it is impossible to calculate the extent to which the widespread
antisemitism of the day, and not only in Germany, may have impeded more
humane responses to the Jewish plight. Equally she is ready to grant that,
because of the incremental nature of the Nazi onslaught and the total
secrecy of the mass murder programme, the later claim by many Germans that
they had known nothing, cannot be dismissed as a self-serving alibi. Yet, as
Pastor Hermann Maas of Heidelberg pertinently asked: “Was not what we did
see and hear quite enough?”
The real question about bystanders in a totalitarian society is to determine
where coercion began and free will ended. Certainly we can not ignore the
ominous effect of incessant propaganda and the climate of mutual suspicion
which led to so many denunciations to the Gestapo of anyone expressing
sympathy for the Jews. Many church people, especially in the Confessing
Church, withdrew into a private sphere, creating islands of non-conformity,
in order to survive physically and psychologically, which indeed was a form
of inner resistance. But such “internal emigration” ran the danger that it
severed any signs of solidarity with the victims. And as Raul Hilberg
pointed out, such abstention could block any sense that the plight of the
Jews was linked to the bystanders’ own.
And yet, there were those who rose above this indifference and took active
steps to rescue or assist Jews. Barnett analyzes what she calls acts of
disruptive empathy, such as happened in the French village of Le Chambon
under the charismatic leadership of the pastor, Andre Trocme. Here was a
deliberate process of active resistance based on religious ethical
assumptions, drawn from the villagers’ Hugenot roots. These men and women
could no longer be bystanders, but were impelled by their moral insights to
do what was needed to save Jews. They knew that, in Christian as well as
Jewish tradition, welcoming the stranger is a metaphor for welcoming God.
And the consequences of compassion and charity connected everyone involved
in a new way and thus altered the very dynamics of society. Le Chambon’s
goodness, their ethical connectedness, stands as a prize example of how the
demonic forces of genocide, of Holocaust, can be confronted.
Victoria Barnett’s penetrating examination of individual and collective
behaviour in the face of monstrous evil will be certain to provoke
considerable reflection and debate. We can be grateful to her for raising
these issues so clearly and coherently. JSC

b) Yasuo Furuya (editor & translator), A History of Japanese Theology (Grand
Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997), vi+161 pp.
Although there have been several studies of Japanese theology by
westerners, this is the first to have been written by Japanese theologians
themselves. The editor, who teaches at the International Christian
University (ICU) in Tokyo, has divided the history into four periods –The
First Generation, by Akio Dohi; the Second Generation (1907-1945), by Toshio
Sato; The Third Generation (1945-1970), by Seiichi Yagi, and Theology After
1970 , by Masaya Odagaki–each survey written by recognized theologians who
themselves appear within the history. Dr. Furuya contributes an
Introduction and Epilogue which set the context for the studies. A
bibliography and index complete the work.
Each section traces the development of Japanese theology from dependence
on western sources to greater freedom to deal with the indigenous
environment of thought. The first generation, just emerged from a
background of Shinto-Buddhism-Confucianism, made varying accommodations
between their new-found faith and the old traditions. The second generation
began a long process of dependence on German academic theology, though the
Presbyterian Uemura also encouraged his disciples to study British and Scots
like Forsyth and Mackintosh. Social Christianity arose around the middle of
this period in reaction to the individualism of the evangelical churches and
the philosophical trend taken by academic theology. Independent of the
American Social Gospel, its roots were in the student movement and sympathy
with Toyohiko Kagawa’s work with labour and the poor. Kagawa’s concept of
“redemptive love” represented a key element in the exposition of this
theology. In the thirties, however, leaders of the movement like Enkichi
Kan made a sudden switch to German dialectical theology with studies of
Brunner and Barth.
One reason for the switch, proposed by Sao, was that dialectical
theology was perceived to be “deeper” than Social Christianity. The
perception that Christian theology was not as “deep”–read “hard to
understand”–as Buddhism has plagued the history of Japanese theology down
to this day. Another reason heard during my work with students in the
sixties was that the adherents of Social Christianity were unable to stand
the growing pressure of militarism at the time and interpreted Bath’s
theology (wrongly, as it turned out: p. 124) to release them from a social
activism that had become unbearable.
‘Japanese Theology’ represents another accommodation with nationalism.
With its roots in the thought of first-generation Christian leaders like
Banjo Ebbing, this type sought to deal with the clash between State Shinto,
the Emperor-cult, and Christianity. According to the Anglican theologian
Osaka Tusked (omitted in this survey), Japanese Theology distinguished
between ‘reverence’ for the great heroes of Japan exalted in State Shinto
and ‘faith’ in the Christian God and Jesus Christ. Thus attendance at a
Shinto Shrine represented, not worship but an expression of loyalty. This
type of thinking allowed leaders of the United Church of Christ in Japan to
travel in China to defend the right of the Imperial forces to invade China.
Yogi’s survey of the Third Generation was of special interest, taking
contextual factors more seriously and written from a standpoint of personal
involvement. That is not to say that it was easier to read. Perhaps
because the author teaches philosophy of religion, the approach is basically
philosophical. Because this generation marks what Yogi and others call “the
liberation from the Barthian captivity,” attention has been transferred from
Karl Bath’s “deepness” to the even denser thought of Buddhist philosophers
like the Zen thinker, Quitter Noshed. Translation into English poses
problems here. What for instance does Nishida’s key term, “the Identity of
the Absolute Contradiction,” mean for someone not already acquainted with
the Japanese vocabulary? Yet it is fascinating to see Japanese Christian
theologians turning from European models to their own cultural heritage to
construct a theology that they hope will be more intelligible to their
compatriots. In initiating a dialogue with Zen Buddhist scholars in
particular, the third generation attempts to under-stand the nature of
Christ in terms of enlightenment and Buddha-hood.
Some theologians of this generation, however, saw this process as
verging on pluralism, endangering the claim of Christianity to absoluteness.
So they attempted to express their faith in a way that would be
understandable in Japan yet would guard that claim. In this category comes
the well-known Pain of God Theology of Kazoh Kitamori, as well as other
less famous examples like Yoshio Noro’s existential theology.
If the third generation had concentrated on Christology, theology after
1970 is mainly concerned with reflection on the nature of God. Dialogue
with Buddhism continued, but was more concerned with fundamental problems
such as dualism of subject and object, the relation between Christian belief
in God’s transcendence and absolute otherness, and the Buddhist doctrine of
‘samsara’ (nothingness). These philosophical discussions paralleled the
social unrest among students that began in the late sixties and continued
into the early seventies. Theologians were divided by this turmoil. One of
them, Kenos Tagawa, lost his job for siding with the students at ICU, where
Furuya sat on the governing body which expelled him.
Nevertheless, little attempt is made in this study to trace the
relation between social context and theological development. A theme that
runs throughout–from Ebina at the beginning to attempts to restore the
official status of Shinto in the present–is the problem of Christianity’s
stand in relation to Shinto veneration of the emperor and the authoritarian
paternalism that governs the whole of Japanese society. Although the
problem is raised in the Epilogue, its relation as the context for
theological development is never explicitly discussed. There is a certain
sense that little connection exists between the arcane discussions of the
theologians–many of them graduates of the elite Imperial University of
Tokyo–and what is going on at the grass roots in the churches. Even though
theologians may have been liberated from their German captivity, the rather
Germanic tendency to concentrate on academic theology remains. Figures like
Kagawa, who wrote from his slum experience, or Tomura and others, who have
been active in the popular struggle against the emperor-cult, are hardly
mentioned. And feminist theology does not even appear.
Another shortcoming relates to the overwhelming concentration on
Protestant theology. The editor justifies this choice by arguing the
missionaries dominate Roman catholic education until recently, so that few
indigenous theologians were produced [pp. 7-8]. The review does cover three
Roman Catholics, all of them interesting figures, but Anglican and Orthodox
are virtually neglected. One wonders if an examination of sacramental and
liturgical practices among these three groups might not have revealed some
movement toward indigenisation that could have proved profitable.
On the whole, however, this is an interesting and important book. It
raises the hope that works by the theologians covered might be translated
in the future, particularly around the Buddhist-Christian dialogue.
Cyril Powles, Vancouver

c) Virginia Garrard-Burnett, Protestantism in Guatemala. Living in New
Jerusalem
Austin: University of Texas Press, 1998 248pp
Guatemala, indeed most of Latin America, was on the margin of the Protestant
missionary expansion of the early twentieth century. This area had none of
the romantic appeal of saving China’s millions, of following David
Livingstone through the jungles of Africa, or facing the risks of cannibals
in the South Pacific. As a result missionaries were few in number, and
resources spread very thinly. Yet only a century later, Guatemala has the
remarkable character of being at least one-third Protestant, of whom over
80% are Pentecostals or charismatics. Virginia Garret-Burnett’s historical
study is a thoughtful explanation of how this development took place, based
on an exhaustive coverage of the sources, both Spanish and English, as well
as interviews and correspondence with some of the more prominent
participants. But she fails to take seriously enough the main division
between the indigenous population and the “Ladinos”, i.e. those who speak
Spanish, adhere to “western” culture and participate in the political
processes of the country. This division is not an ethnic one, but is vital
since the two groups have increasingly little to bind them together. It
would seem that the main groups interested in Protestantism come from the
Ladino community, but that generalizations, especially on political
sentiments and sympathies, are difficult to establish with certainty.
In the early years, the Protestant missionary presence was almost
exclusively USA-based. These men and women brought with them the cultural
imperialist baggage of the time, equating “progress” with the adoption of
American religious, political and cultural ideas. Their appeal was primarily
directed against the indigenous Catholicism which they steadfastly saw as
responsible for Guatemala’s backwardness, as well as for the downtrodden
condition of the majority Mayan population.
By the 1920s, however, some Protestants began to see that their aims might
be better achieved by encouraging native ministries in their own languages.
Hence an enormous effort was put into producing suitable orthographies and
literatures for a basically illiterate population. But this meant the
necessary encouragement of local leadership, which in turn often led to
conflicts between the foreign missionary and his indigenous parishioners for
national or cultural reasons, Lacking any strong doctrinal control or
resources, these mission churches were highly susceptible to schism, and
hence the growth of independent churches, often tiny in size but locally
based and vibrant in character.
Protestants had at first been favoured by the strongly anti-Catholic Liberal
governments, culminating in the near-Marxist regime of Jacobo Arbenz, who
was finally overthrown by the US Marines in 1954. The subsequent
anti-American sentiments led to checks on US-supported activities, even
though many of the younger missionaries were in favour of Arbenz’ radical
social programmes.
By contrast, the subsequent regimes of military authoritarianism led to
decades of civil violence, street murders and mass intimidation, prompting
the rise of a guerilla movement, and consequent scorched earth tactics in
waves of repression. The destabilization of the traditional society and the
visible disintegration of the Catholic church provided a new opportunity for
Protestant growth, especially where these new churches could stress their
anti-communism and hence receive support from sympathizers in the United
States. In this sense Guatemala benefited from the effects of China and
Cuba. But Garrard-Burnett attributes this Protestant growth, and especially
the advance of Pentecostalism, to the effects of the political struggle with
its enormous casualties. These forms of Protestantism offered an apocalyptic
explanation of the miseries so many Guatemalans were suffering, but at the
same time an ecstatic and emotional outlet for their feelings, linked to
hope for a better future. Furthermore, she suggests, Pentecostalism’s
emphasis on the gift of the Holy Spirit, the spontaneous worship services,
and the enthusiastic speaking in tongues, i.e. in their own native
languages, rather than in the Latin or Spanish of Catholic rituals, had a
special resonance for the native Indian peoples.
This growth was indeed astonishing, and seems to have been only stimulated
by the catastrophic earthquake of 1976. By the 1980s there were 10,000
Protestant churches, divided into over 300 separate denominations, mostly in
unaffiliated sects headed by pastors whose essential qualification was
divine revelation. The appeal of such churches was, and is, that members
feel they give structure to what would otherwise be a chaotic and evil
world, rendering a larger meaning and cosmic plan from nearly
incomprehensible terror. They also provided the hope for vindication,
justice and empowerment for the many poor and oppressed.
Such groups were encouraged by the short-lived but vivid Presidency of Rios
Montt in 1982-3, the first acknowledged born-again Christian Pentecostal to
achieve power. He did not last long, and the results were ambiguous, since
his troops still continued their oppressive campaigns against guerillas in
the remoter countryside and the attendant forcible pacification of the
inhabitants. But the disruptions imposed on traditional Mayan society opened
the way for new churches to spring up. In the Pentecostal assemblies, the
war’s victims found solace through miraculous healings, ecstatic trances and
glossolalia. They also offered the displaced peasant a chance to improve his
or her lot by taking the Pentecostal path “from a dirt floor to heaven”. But
above all Protestant congregations offered a new community and a new
identity in place of one now vanished or no longer available.
Nevertheless Guatemala remains a fragile and broken society, under constant
threat of social unrest and horrendous economic disparities. Pentecostal or
neo-Pentecostal churches attempt to fill a spiritual void. The paradox is
that, for the Mayan inhabitants, both Catholicism and Protestantism are
foreign imports. But just as a syncretistic Mayan Catholicism emerged,
perhaps the same will be true for the already flexible Pentecostals. Perhaps
here can be found a new moral basis for the regeneration of society,
overcoming the dreadful legacy of violence and repression with a new
spirit-filled and innovative religious movement.
Virginia Garrard-Burnett teaches at the Institute of Latin American Studies,
University of Texas, Austin.
JSC

3) Religion and the Cold War Conference
Natalie Watson reports on a conference held in London in April, which can be
seen as a start of an international group of historians interested in the
field of Religion and the Cold War. This showed that the varying
interpretations of the Cold War are by no means finished, and that the
significance of religion, and Christianity in particular, needs much more
further work. The conference was organized by Dr Dianne Kirby (University of
Ulster) and the Institute of British History, and attended by scholars from
Britain, Germany, North America and Finland. Prof Aila Lauha from Helsinki
has launched her own project on this topic at Helsinki and is working with a
number of other European universities. The topic includes a revision of
historians’ attitudes, as was made clear by Prof Hartmut Lehmann (Max-Planck
Institut fuer Geschichte, Goettingen) in a most interesting paper on the
official interpretation of Luther and Thomas Muntzer in the former German
Democratic Republic. Similarly, disparate views on the Russian Church were
expressed. “The situation of the Russian Orthodox Church has worsened in
recent years rather than improving”. This was the view of a veteran of the
struggle against the Soviet regime, Fr. Georgii Edelstein, a Russian
Orthodox priest from Kostrama. The Russian Orthodox Church, Fr. Edelstein
claimed, is still run by a hierarchy appointed by the state authorities. The
Moscow Patriarchate, which has always been part of the Soviet state, should
be treated with some suspicion. He called for repentance by the church
leaders, and for the work of such bodies as Keston College, Oxford (the
leading centre for research on East European churches during the Soviet era)
to continue.
Further information can be obtained from the mailing list
cold-war-rel@mailbase.ac.uk

4) Film Review: Bonhoeffer: Agent of Grace

Bonhoeffer: Agent of Grace

This production of NFP teleart GmbH and Co.KG in co-production with
Norflicks
Production Ltd. (in association with Chum City Television, Oregon Public
Broadcasting, Ostdeutscher Rundfunk Brandenburg, Studio Babelsberg
Independents GmbH, and Wisconsin Public Television) is a ninety-minute
dramatization of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s final years, 1939-45. Bonhoeffer:
Agent of Grace (BAOG) was first shown in Germany, and then aired over PBS
stations in the United States on June 14. (A premier showing was held for
members of the press and selected guests, in New York City on May 17.)
Advance publicity included the honor of ‘Best Film’ it received at the Monte
Carlo Television Festival 2000.

I believe it is important to preface a review of this sort with two
precautions. First, any dramatization attempting to convey the ‘essence’ of
such a complex and dynamic figure as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in only ninety
minutes, will rarely satisfy those persons who are well-acquainted with and
already committed to a particular view of this figure’s ‘essence.’ Second,
while a critical review aims to make judgment on the effectiveness of a
production in the interest of truth, it is the case that every production
takes on a life of its own, and one only hopes that viewers are motivated to
further, more in-depth inquiry. These precautions are stated to express the
need for serious critique as well as genuine humility.

Initially, one is struck cinematographically – while viewing BAOG – with the
realization that we live in a post-Schindlerian age. Without the finances of
Hollywood and the theatrical resources symbolized in the name Spielberg,
anyone would be hard-pressed to create an engaging work in this area.
Further, the choice of color photography instead of black and white in BAOG
has serious drawbacks; an earlier documentary on Dietrich Bonhoeffer
entitled
Memories and Perspectives, (Trinity Films, Minneapolis) filmed in black and
white, like Schindler’s List, remains a classic, in part, because something
of the ‘essence’ was captured by the use of black and white film. This
choice
of medium, while not changing the content of the presentation, clearly
affects the viewing.

One could fault BAOG for straying too far from the facts of Bonhoeffer’s
biography, which were either distorted or omitted, details that are
important
for authenticity. For example, the exaggerated importance of Bonhoeffer’s
fiancé, Maria von Wedemeyer, an overemphasis on the interrogations by
Manfred
Roeder, the obvious absence of Bonhoeffer’s intellectual, spiritual, and
emotional conversation partner, Eberhard Bethge, or the final scene of his
life at Flossenburg when two primary conspirators, murdered with Bonhoeffer
on April 9, were not shown, but omitted; all these are instances of altering

the facts, but for what purpose? Director Eric Till writes: “I didn’t get
any resistance (to changing certain details in the story) . . .You can get
bogged down by the truth of it all. At the same time, one is most anxious
not to in anyway distort the essence of the real story itself.” Putting
aside now the concern about any distortion or omission of details that could
reduce the film’s authenticity, I wish to take issue with Till’s
understanding of Bonhoeffer’s ‘essence.’

After experiencing a preview of BAOG on May 17 in New York City and
following
the PBS showing on June 14, I attempted to be attentive to viewers’
impressions of the film’s essence, as well as hear views of the persona they
experienced in the character of Bonhoeffer, played by Ulrich Tukur. Further,
I wondered what was perceived as the motivating force, the faith orientation
of this ‘agent of grace?’ I consistently heard three impressions, which
followed each viewing, (Bonhoeffer’s) courage, righteousness, and resolve.
>From those viewers I encountered, these qualities were seen as the ‘essence’
of Bonhoeffer’s life and the importance of his witness.

First, the real Bonhoeffer was intensely aware of his own tristitia, his own
weakness and temptation to compromise. In contrast to any personal courage,
any strength he employed for responsible action was understood to be that
received solely from the presence of God in Jesus Christ. Bonhoeffer would
resist any description of himself that emphasized his own courage.

Second, the real Bonhoeffer revolted against any notion of his – or
Germany’s
– righteousness during this time. He often spoke of Germany’s historic
guilt, of which he was an heir and participant and for which redemptive
suffering would be required. Quite the opposite of his own righteousness
regarding involvement in this justifiable deed of tyrannicide, was
Bonhoeffer’s self-conscious guilt for an apparently necessary – yet
thoroughly sinful – act against God’s command. Christ’s righteousness and
call to discipleship were the foundation and motivation for the being and
behavior of this ‘agent of grace.’ Bonhoeffer would resist any description
of himself that emphasized his own righteousness.

Third, the real Bonhoeffer struggled until the very end with the irony and
ambiguity of his involvement with the conspirators plotting Hitler’s
assassination. Questions, fears, and uncertainly were often his companions,
not so much answers, confidence, certainty, and resolve. While he lived –
and wrote about – the necessity to “step out and act” responsibly, one ought
not think of this as a sort of un-dialectical resolve in his personality.

My critical concern in Till’s rendition of Bonhoeffer is that the perceived
‘essence’ of his life and witness seems to be that of heroism, a descriptive
image Bonhoeffer would have vehemently opposed. His faith and actions were
grounded in the gratitude of a fragile, sinful, child of God whose weakness
was bolstered by God’s courage, whose self-centeredness was reoriented by
Christ’s righteousness, and whose hesitancy and faltering judgment was only
redeemed by the Spirit’s resolve.

In summary, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s real ‘essence’ must always be understood
in
the light of what God was doing, through Christ, through the Church, for
humanity, for the future. Hopefully, persons viewing Bonhoeffer: Agent of
Grace will be stirred to look further and dig deeper. We must attempt to
insure – like the figure of John the Baptist in the Isenheim altarpiece by
Grunewald who is pointing to the Christ – that the life and sacrifice of
Dietrich Bonhoeffer points to Jesus Christ and not to Bonhoeffer. He would
have it no other way.
John Matthews, Afton, Minnesota, editor Newsletter, International Bonhoeffer
Society, English lanaguage section
The most recent Newsletter no.73 (June 2000) of the International Bonhoeffer
Society, English Language Section is devoted to the memory of Eberhard
Bethge, and prints a translation of the sermon and tributes paid at his
funeral in March.

With every best wish to you all,
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ub.ca

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June 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

Newsletter- June 2000- Vol.VI, no. 6

 Newsletter – Vol VI, no 6 – June 2000

Dear Friends
The flood of new books and articles in our area of study seems never ending,
and the task of making a selection for review is correspondingly
challenging. I trust however that you continue to find the coverage broad
enough to interest most of you some of the time!
The next issue will be a double Summer Newsletter for both July and August,
which will be sent to you in the third week of July.

Contents:
1) Obituary: Joachim Mehlhausen
2) Karl Barth Prize awarded to South African academic
3) Forthcoming conference: German Studies Association
4) Book Reviews:

a) G.Lewy, The Nazi Persecution of the Gypsies
b) A.Vuletic, Christen juedischer Herkunft
c) J.D.Thiesen, Mennonite & Nazi?
d) F.Ludwig, Church and State in Tanzania

5) New articles –

M.Lindsay, Karl Barth’s dialectics,
J.Pollard, The Vatican and the Wall St. crash
S.P.Ramet, Religion and Politics in Germany
J.Alwell, Religious liberty in Sweden

1) It is with great regret that we learn of the death on April 3rd of
Professor Joachim Mehlhausen, Faculty of Protestant Theology, Tuebingen, the
former chairman of the Evangelische Arbeitsgemeinschaft fur kirchliche
Zeitgeschichte, after a lengthy illness. He was de facto the successor to
Klaus Scholder in Tuebingen, and gave leadership to his church’s efforts to
encourage a knowledge of the denomination’s past. His successor is to be
chosen at the next meeting of the Arbeitsgemeinschaft at Magdeburg in June.
In the meanwhile, a retired Oberkirchenrat, Prof Harald Schultze of
Magdeburg has been nominated as vice-chairman, and also chair of the special
commission dealing with the history of the Protestant churches in the
divided Germany, i.e. between 1945 and 1990.

2) Congratulations to our fellow List-member, John de Gruchy of the
Department of Religious Studies in the University of Cape Town,, who has
been awarded the prestigious Karl Barth Prize for the year 2000. It will be
presented to him at a ceremony in Berlin in August.
Professor de Gruchy, a minister of the United Congregational Church of
Southern Africa, is world renowned for his studies on the Swiss theologian
Karl Barth, as well as on Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Both were noted for their
opposition to the Nazi regime in Germany, which they comprehensively
critiqued on theological grounds.
Among Professor de Gruchy’s unique contribution to theological scholarship
has been his work which drew parallels between the apartheid ideology in
South Africa and the Nazi doctrines, He applied Barth and Bonhoeffer’s
critique of Fascism to the ‘false theology’ of apartheid, and his work was
instrumental in leading the World Alliance of Reformed Churches to declare
apartheid a ‘theological heresy’ in 1982, putting pressure on all the South
African family of Reformed churches to renounce apartheid.
The Karl Barth Prize was instituted by the German Evangelical Church in 1986
to mark the centenary of Barth’s birth. Among previous winners have been the
theologians Hans Kung and Eberhard Jungel. (Source: Worldwide Faith News)

3) German Studies Association conference, Houston,Texas, October 6th-8th
2000
The following sessions of interest to our readers are announced in the
provisional programme:
Friday October 6th, 8.30 a.m., Session 2: Hitler’s Pope? Image, Imagination
and Pope Pius XII.
Cornwell and Pius XII: what the author got right, Richard Rubenstein
Sicilian Vespers Revisited, Michael Phayer
Reflections on Pius XII and the Third Reich, Hannah Decker,
Commentator, Frank Nicosia
Friday, October 6th 8.30 a.m. Session 8: The Protestant Church and the Cold
War
1945-1990
The World Council of Churches, the German churches and the Cold War, Armin
Boyens
American Protestantism and the German churches during the Cold War, Gerhard
Besier
The Christian Peace Conference and the World Council of Churches, Gerhard
Lindemann
Commentator, Robert Ericksen
Saturday, October 7th 1.45 p.m. Session 106
The Index of Forbidden books and Catholic Nationalism in Wilhelmine Germany,
Jeff Zalar, Washington.
Sunday, October 8th, 8.30 a..m. Session 133: Divergent Problems of Mischehen
and Mischlinge under National Socialism 1933-45
Victor Klemperer’s Diary of an intermarried Jew, Nathan Stolzfus
Regional aspects of persecution among Mischlinge, James Tent
Umgangsstrategien sogenannter juedischer Mischlinge mit der NS-Verfolgung,
Beate Meyer
Commentator, Doris Bergen

4) Book reviews:
a) Guenter Lewy, The Persecution of the Gypsies. Oxford: O.U.P. 2000, 360pp
Thirty five years ago Guenter Lewy wrote the first account in English of the
Catholic Church in Nazi Germany, challenging many of the apologetic alibis
about its role during that fateful time. He now has produced an equally
significant study of the Nazi persecution of the gypsies, again, apart from
one short and unimpressive study, the first academic treatment in English.
This topic has waited all these years for a suitable analysis for various
reasons. In the first place, unlike other victims of the Nazis, such a the
Jews, the gypsies do not maintain a literate culture. Their historical
memory is largely oral. They are strangers to the political advantages to be
gained as former victims of a barbaric regime. They suspect any outsiders
who seek to probe their experiences.
As a consequence this work has been largely compiled on the basis of the
official records of the time, and concentrates therefore more on the
perpetrators of this persecution rather than on the victims. It is one of
the strengths of Prof. Lewy’s account that he reinforces the view taken in
other studies of Nazi persecution that there was no prearranged or
systematic plan, but rather a plethora of competing strategies, which were
then steadily radicalized by being played off against each other.
Lewy points out that the Nazis inherited a widespread social antipathy to
the approximately 25,000 gypsies known to be in Germany. Their policy at
first was prompted by pressure from below, at the local level, leading to an
intensification of the measures for control already initiated during the
Weimar Republic. In the second phase, beginning in 1937, gypsies were caught
up in the programme of crime prevention that led to “preventive police
custody” served in concentration camps. The third phase was instituted by
Himmler in late 1938 using racial criteria to brand some gypsies as a danger
to the nation. At the outbreak of the war, itinerancy was forbidden,
compulsory labour was imposed, but gypsies were not allowed to enlist or
remain in the armed forces, and continued to be treated as social outcasts.
But Lewy makes the point that Hitler appears not to have been involved at
any time, and the evidence does not exist that the gypsies were
systematically targeted for destruction as a blanket category. Indeed, to
the contrary, “pure” gypsies were valued as examples of racially significant
types, and hence were not subject to sterilization or deportation. Much more
dangerous were those who had attempted to integrate, and thus could be
considered as “polluters”of the German “blood”.
As a result of this categorization, large numbers of gypsies were forcibly
imprisoned and/or “resettled” in the east, where their casualties resulted
in many deaths. But even Himmler’s notorious order of December 1942 to send
more than 13,000 gypsy men, women and children to Auschwitz was not just
part of a larger plan to destroy the whole gypsy race, since numerous
exemptions were given. Those dispatched eastwards were selected basically as
social misfits rather than on racial grounds. Lewy suggests that the
subsequent mass murder of these Auschwitz gypsies in the spring of 1944,
after being held there for 18 months, was probably due to the need for more
temporary space for Hungarian Jews.
No exact statistics are on record as to how many gypsies lived under Nazi
control, nor how many were so horrendously and deliberately murdered. So it
is impossible to estimate the proportion of their losses. In Lewy’s view
these mass murders do not add up to genocide, but are shocking enough. While
no direct orders can be traced for any general gypsy extermination, it is
more likely that such executions were based on the belief that the gypsies
constituted an inferior people whose lives were fully dispensable. Other
scholars however point out that the mass involuntary sterilization of
gypsies in 1943 and 1944 can be considered as an act of genocide, as a
deliberate act of preventing the future contamination of German “blood”.
In Lewy’s view, it is not helpful to try and equate the sufferings of the
gypsies with those of the Jews. He points to the continued squabbles which
have arisen over whether or not to include Sinti and Roma in the
U.S.Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington. There were in fact significant
differences in Nazi policy, but the victimization of the gypsies did not,
alas, end with the overthrow of Hitler and his gang. Rather the distrust and
hostility exploited by the Nazis are still evident today. What is not
evident is any sign that the churches sought or seek to combat such
stigmatization. JSC

b) Aleksandar-Sasa Vuletic, Christen juedischer Herkunft im Dritten Reich.
Verfolgung und organisierte Selbsthilfe 1933-1939 (Veroffentlichung d. Inst.
f.Europaische Geschichte Mainz, Abteilung Universalgeschichte Bd 169) Mainz:
Verlag Philipp von Zabern 1999, 308pp
The story of those Christians who were of Jewish or partly Jewish origin in
Germany during the Nazi era has only been touched on up to now. In the more
general accounts, their fate is discussed in the context of the ideological
debate within the Nazi hierarchy of how they should be treated, or of the
theological debate in the churches as to whether they really belonged. After
the war, the survivors themselves were only too eager to forget their
degrading classification as “non-aryans” or “Mischlinge”, and preferred to
be seen as fully Christian as everyone else. For their part, church
historians were embarrassed by the dismal lack of support given by their
leaders to these unfortunate members of their own church, so kept silent.
And, in any case, the largest body of documentation only became available
after the fall of the German Democratic Republic. So it is good that
Aleksandar-Sas Vuletic now gives us this full study, which is published by
the prestigious Institute for European History in Mainz.
Basically this work is an account of the short-lived Reich Association for
“non-aryan” Christians, later called the Paulus Bund. But first the author
has to tackle the problematical issues of numbers and nomenclature. No one
knew, or knows, for certain how many Christians of Jewish or partly Jewish
descent were in Germany in 1933, and estimates ranged from 2 million
downwards. Nor was it known how many subsequently emigrated. Equally
confusing was the plethora of overlapping but all pejorative adjectives such
as “not fully German”, “half-Jew”, “non-aryan”, “mixed blood”, which were
not so much descriptive as discriminatory and were naturally not used by
those affected.
The paradox was that, since the Nazis had no biological means of
establishing who was a Jew, they were obliged to use a religious test based
on allegiances sixty or eighty years previously. Having only one Jewish
grandparent was enough to be categorized as falling under the Nazis’
draconian racial legislation. But the implementation of these new rules for
those no longer or not fully Jewish was to provide for bureaucratic
headaches.
As for those affected, their sudden plight in being treated as no longer
only Christians and Germans was traumatic. They were frequently regarded by
the Jewish community as renegades, but were only semi-accepted by the
Christian churches, which too often shared much of the Nazis’ racial
thinking. Particularly lonely were those who had been born as Christians or
converted to Christianity but had later lapsed into free-thinking or
atheistic beliefs, who now found themselves totally abandoned by any
community to whom they might have turned.
The two major churches’ response to the Nazi persecution was ambivalent, at
best. Neither sought to mobilize their congregations to protest such
injustices, even on behalf of their own supporters. The Catholic Church
established a committee which principally sought to encourage emigration,
while the Protestant community saw the rapid rise of the pro-Nazi group, the
so-called “German Christians”, which openly called for the elimination of
all Jewish elements from their liturgies and theology, as well as the
ejection of all “non-aryan” pastors. Although these moves were resisted by
the Confessing Church on theological grounds, even so there was little
sympathy shown to their “non-aryan” members. Not until 1938 did the
Confessing Church establish a small committee under Pastor Gruber in Berlin
to assist such Jewish Protestants to emigrate. By contrast the effective aid
given by Bishop Bell of Chichester to a group of Protestant pastors and
their families, enabling them to leave for England was notable. But for
those laity like Victor Klemperer who wanted to stay in Germany and have
their rights championed, the Buro Gruber proved to be a disappointment.
Left to their own devices, in the summer of 1933, some members of this group
decided to form their own self-help group, the Reich Association. But it was
quickly overwhelmed by the number of people seeking advice or protection
from the Nazi authorities. It was necessarily both dependent on Nazi
permission to exist and seeking to challenge the unwelcome and unprecedented
measures adopted against its members. Throughout its brief existence, the
Reich Association, despite its fervent affirmations of national loyalty, was
constantly in a subordinate position to the overwhelming power of the
Gestapo, who had never any interest in furthering its objectives, unless it
was to encourage emigration. As the author makes clear, the Association’s
deferential approach to the Nazi authorities went hand in hand with the
illusion that these anti-Jewish measures were only temporary, or that
Christians would be exempted. Clinging to this vain hope was clearly a
psychological necessity as it was widely held by the membership for far too
long.
The officers of the Reich Association were all respectable bourgeois and
mainly Protestant citizens, eager to stress their German nationalism and
offering their services to forward the goals of the “national revolution”,
as for example supporting the November 1933 plebiscite on Germany’s
departure from the League of Nations. The same officers declared their lack
of sympathy for any pacifists, communists or exaggerated intellectuals, who
would not be accepted as members and whose activities were deplored. These
highly conservative and patriotic attitudes, however, did them little good.
The Nazis were not impressed.
Given the Nazis’ incessant antisemitic propaganda, the Reich Association’s
leaders had to abandon their wishful thinking about integration into the new
Germany, but instead still believed their patriotism could prevent their
being isolated in a kind of Christian non-aryan ghetto. But, inevitably,
organizing activities and community services for this special group led to
increased feelings of separation. Yet, for the growing number of unemployed
artists and writers, cultural activities undertaken on their behalf were a
significant help.
By 1935 it was clear that being Christian was of little help against the
Nazis’ discriminatory measures. Reluctantly the Association had to take up
the idea of emigration and to encourage educational and re-educational
courses which could be of practical value. Particularly the young people saw
no alternative and were increasingly disinclined to adhere to the leaders’
nationalistic appeals. At the same time, the escalation of the antisemitic
measures in 1935 with the proclamation of the so-called Nuremberg Laws
heightened the tension for the Christians of Jewish origin too.
In the subsequent two years the Gestapo stepped up its harassment and
intimidation. At the same time, a new leader, Heinrich Spiero took over the
Association, whose career is here ably depicted. But despite his highly
conservative and nationalist views and good connections, he was unable to
reverse the Nazi policy. The numbers affected by the new laws grew apace and
Spiero’s strenuous efforts to provide programmes to assist them proved
unavailing. In 1937 the Gestapo demanded a still more rigorous
interpretation of the Nuremberg Laws, forcing the eviction of all members of
the Association who were themselves born Jews, and leaving it purely for
those of “mixed blood”. Since its leaders including Spiero were all in the
first category, this effectively put an end to the organization. The rump
group was no longer to be linked by their Christian attachment, and it
became purely a means of controlling the “Mischlinge”. But the hope of
gaining more recognition by abandoning both its Jewish members and its
Christian character proved illusory. The screws continued to be tightened
and in August 1939 the organization was ordered to close down immediately.
This dismal record of bureaucratic brutality is based on an excellent
mastery of the sources. But necessarily it excludes almost entirely the
personal stories of the victims. Their exclusion from German society and
their shunning by the churches to which they belonged is another sad story
which in part has been told. by Ursula Buttner, in her book Die Verlassene
Kinder der Kirche (1998) which forms a valuable complement to Vuletic’s
study.
JSC

c) John D.Thiesen, Mennonite & Nazi? Attitudes among Mennonite colonists in
Latin America, 1933-1945. (Studies in Anabaptist and Mennonite History no
37) Kitchener, Ontario: Pandora Press 1999 329pp
We still lack a full English-language study of the Mennonites in the period
of the Third Reich. Possibly the sensitivity of the issues and their
emotional and divisive overtones are still felt among the survivors and
their descendants in North America. But John D.Thiesen, archivist for the
General Conference Mennonite Church from the campus of Bethel College in
Kansas has now given us an insightful examination of one very small part of
the wider picture, namely of the political attitudes found in the exiled
Mennonite communities of Latin America. In fact, since their presence in
both Mexico and Brazil was so small, the book is principally about the
situation in Paraguay. Thiesen’s basic question is: “How was it that in the
Mennonite colonies, with a deep tradition of pacifism, many people embraced
the same volkisch National Socialist assumptions that underlay Hitler’s
atrocities?”
The answer largely arises out of the context. The Mennonites were given a
grant of land on the remote western borders of Paraguay in the 1920s in
order to secure title from Bolivian ambitions. One group of settlers arrived
in 1926-7 from Canada, disaffected by the pressure there to anglicize and
modernize. Another larger group arrived in 1929-30 from Russia, where they
had been subject to increasingly distressing persecution by the Communists.
Thanks to energetic rescue efforts by the German government, they were
brought from Moscow to Germany, but in the circumstances of the growing
depression stayed there only a few weeks before proceeding onwards to their
new settlements in Latin America.
Their predominant political attitude was clearly an overwhelming hostility
towards the Soviet Communists, who had deprived them of their homelands,
wealth and prospects. At the same time, all these new settlers found
themselves stranded in a difficult environment, completely cut off from the
local inhabitants. These colonies were four days’ journey from the capital
city. Their isolation reinforced their desire to cling on to their ethnic
consciousness as Germans and to build their institutions on the basis of
their German language and their familiar ideologies, which they believed
held them together against the dangerous tides of revolution and modernity.
It was hardly surprising that, in such remote communities which lacked
communications, the influence of the few educated members, such as the high
school teachers or the editor of the colony’s newspaper, should be
disproportionate. These were the individuals whose enthusiasm for the new
Nazi regime after 1933 was to have such an impact in the Paraguayan
colonies, especially Fernheim, whose archives have luckily been preserved.
In addition to the romanticized view of Hitler as Germany’s saviour against
Bolshevism, the kind of Nazi propaganda arriving in Paraguay stressed the
essential duty of preserving the German race from all outside forces – a
kind of defensive posture which appealed to many unsophisticated Mennonites.
Furthermore these trends were actively encouraged by their Mennonite mentors
in Germany to whom the colonists looked for guidance on such political
matters. Professor Bernard Unruh and another teacher Walter Quiring both
eagerly supported the Nazi remaking of German society, and provided their
proteges overseas with justifications for upholding the great ideas of
“Deutschtum” and its volkisch destiny. Both Unruh and Quiring’s views were
extensively quoted in the colonists’ newspaper, and propagated in the high
school, where Unruh’s student, Fritz Kliewer, organized the young people in
a manner highly reminiscent of the Hitler youth.
Such few visitors as the colonists received, especially German officials,
naturally encouraged such a positive view of the new Third Reich. It was a
considerable time before alternative views about what was happening in
Germany reached Paraguay. Tales of the Nazi persecution of the churches were
frequently denied, while Unruh and Quiring continued to claim that National
Socialism and Christianity were fully compatible. But eventually a serious
division appeared in the colonies over the issue of pacifism, since the
new-found enthusiasm for the Third Reich and its militant expansionism could
hardly be combined with traditional Mennonite views. Even so, a group of
young people actually went back to Germany in 1939, full of enthusiasm. The
men, apparently willingly and following the example of their German
Mennonite counterparts, were ready to abandon their pacifist heritage. They
joined the German army, “doing their duty unto the uttermost for the German
Fatherland”, and looked for the day when Germany’s military victories in the
Ukraine after 1941 would enable them once more to return to their old
settlements. Nine of them were killed or missing in these campaigns.
The opposition to such a political stance came mainly from those American
and Canadian Mennonites, seconded to help out in Paraguay, but who were
perceived as “modernizers’ or disruptive to the Germanness of the colonies.
Nevertheless, after 1941, this factor attracted attention from outside
interests, including the American government, which brought pressure on the
Paraguayan authorities to arrest known Nazis on their territory. In the end,
the two most prominent activists were temporarily arrested and forced out of
the colonies.
After the war, those who had most ardently propagated their support of
National Socialism in the name of Germanness claimed they had been deceived
by Hitler. But, as Thiesen suggests, a better explanation for this kind of
enthusiastic encounter with Nazism is to be found in the Mennonites’ need to
create a new cohesive identity for themselves which could make sense of
their previous sufferings as refugees and offer hope for a new future even
in a strange land. We can be grateful to John Thiesen for elucidating these
problematic attitudes, even if his account may well uncover old and still
unhealed wounds.
JSC

d) Frieder Ludwig, Church and State in Tanzania. Aspects o a changing
relationship. 1961-1994. (Studies of Religion in Africa, XXI)
Leiden/Boston/Koln; Brill 1999
Since studies of the churches in Africa are uncommon, this new contribution
by a German scholar, nicely translated into English, is much to be welcomed.
Ludwig seeks to cover the story of all the churches in the newly-independent
nation from the early 6os to almost the present. This was of course the era
of Julius Nyerere as the founding father of the new nation and his bold
experiments in economic development on a communitarian scale. The strength
of this work is the careful consideration of how the various churches moved
from their former era of European missionary dominance and dependency to a
more truly African symbiosis. The comparisons Ludwig makes are insightful,
especially on the difficulties each group had with the various strains and
stresses caused by their European origins. But the transition away from
missionary control to indigenous leadership was in many respects easier than
the problem of their own profile in the new state. The churches had the
advantage that Nyerere was known to be sympathetic, so the initial stages of
the post-independence period were harmonious with the local church leaders
deferring to the President’s guidance, and obtaining his help in the new
arrangements for such things as education and health. But this relationship
did not allow for any kind of prophetic criticism. As Nyerere’s government
took on more and more authoritarian features, the churches’ silence was
notable. Only in the last few years has a more critical stance been adopted
as the failure of Tanzanian Ujamaa Socialism has been admitted. At the same
time, the church structures also need to evolve from the kind of
hierarchical patterns of the past. Ludwig’s survey is helpful and balanced –
an excellent example of the outside observer, having researched the
available sources, being able to evaluate, with sympathy but not
uncritically so, the complex developments of the past generation.
JSC

5) Articles: Mark Lindsay, Dialectics of Communion: Dialectical Method and
Barth’s Defence of Israel, has appeared in a new book, ed. K. Tonkin, Karl
Barth: a Future for Postmodern Theology (Australian Theological Forum/Open
Book 2000) Lindsay’s chapter deals with the continuing usage of dialectic
within Barth’s CD II/2 on the doctrine of election, and the way in which
this section of his Dogmatics, written between 1941-2, was in direct
opposition to Nazi antisemitism and the onset of the ‘Final Solution’.
John Pollard, The Vatican and the Wall Street crash, in The Historical
Journal, Vol 42, no 4, December 1999, pp 1074 ff. An informative account of
the Vatican’s financial strategies in the period of the great depression,
when the grant given by Italy in connection with the Lateran Treaty was
almost squandered by the grandiose building schemes of the Vatican’s leaders
Sabrina P.Ramet, Religion and Politics in Germany since 1945, in Journal of
Church and State, Vol 42, no.1, Winter 2000, pp 115 ff. This broad survey of
the political stances adopted by both the Catholic and Protestant churches
in Germany over the past half century covers a lot of ground, some of which
Prof. Ramet has already described in more detail in her books. But useful is
the listing of the current political problems encountered as the churches
have tried to deal with the new conditions created over the past ten years
since re-unification.
Jonas Alwell, Religious Liberty in Sweden. An overview, in Journal of Church
and State, Vol 42, no 1, Winter 2000, pp 147 ff. The evolution of Sweden
from a tightly-knit Lutheran church-state symbiosis to the present
secularized state with a remnant establishment of the national church is
here well described and evaluated. The author makes some interesting
observations about the place of minority religions such as the Jews and
Muslims, and the difficulties which a secularized state encounters in trying
to meet their requirements.

With best wishes to you all for a blessed Ascension Day
John S.Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

I am most grateful to the Library staff at Regent College who have now
compiled a Website for the John S.Conway Collection, books and files etc,
http://www.library.regentcollege.ubc.ca/Conway/Conway_collection.htm

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May 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

Newsletter- May 2000- Vol.VI, no. 5

 
Dear Friends.

I would like to thank Doris Bergen very much on your behalf for guest
editing last month’s Newsletter, and producing such a rich and interesting
fare that we had to split it into two parts. Judging by the response, we
very much hope we can prevail on her to take up the responsibility again in
the future.

Contents: 1) New Website
2) Obituary – Dieter Albrecht
3) Book reviews a) The Holocaust and the Christian World
b) U.Werner, Anthroposophism under Nazism
c) H.Roggelin, Franz Hildebrandt
d) G.Besier, Kirche, Politik und Gesellschaft im 20 Jahrhundert
4) Book notes a) Building the Church in America
b) H.Troper, The Ransomed of God
5) Journal articles: Zalar, Borromausverein ,Jones, Catholic conservatives

1) Thanks to the generous help of Randy Bytwerk, Calvin College, Grand
Rapids, Michigan, we now have a new website. This is henceforth:
http://www.calvin.edu/academic/cas/akz/
and contains the index of all the issues of this Newsletter since its
inception in 1995. This will now be kept up to date. By the end of the
summer, the website will also include the full text of each issue back to
January 1998, and will be searchable for key words.

2) Obituary: Dieter Albrecht
Greg Munro, Australian Catholic University, Brisbane writes:
Subscribers to this Newsletter will be sad to learn of the death of Prof.
Dr. Dieter Albrecht on 8 October 1999. Prof. Albrecht achieved international
recognition for his research in the history of the Catholic Church during
the Church Struggle against the Nazi state. His principal areas of research
were the relationship between the Third Reich and the Vatican, Bavarian
history in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and the history of the
Thirty Years War. Born in Munich in 1927, Dieter Albrecht studied History
and Germanistik at the University of Munich and completed his doctorate
under Max Spindler. From 1951 to 1953 he worked for the Kommission fur
bayerische Landesgeschichte. He completed his Habilitation in 1958 and
lectured at the University of Munich until 1963. From 1963 to 1967 he was
Professor of Modern History at the University of Mainz, before taking up the
chair of Modern and Contemporary History at the University of Regensburg
which he held until he retired in 1992. Prof. Albrecht was one of the
founding members of the Kommission fur Zeitgeschichte in September 1962,
which quickly emerged as one of the leading research centres for the history
of the relationship between the Catholic Church and the Nazi dictatorship,
as well of Catholicism in Germany during the past two centuries. The
Kommission published a number of his works, including the massive three
volumes of Der Notenwechsel zwischen dem Heiligen Stuhl und der deutschen
Reichsregierung (1969-1980). He was a member of the Historical Commission of
the Bavarian Academy of Sciences and was awarded the Verdienstkreuz (Class
1) of the Federal republic of Germany.

3) Book reviews a)
ed. Carol Rittner, Stephen Smith, Irena Steinfeldt, The Holocaust and the
Christian World. Reflections on the past: Challenges for the future. London:
Kuperard 2000
278 pp GBP 14.95
The chief value of this collection of short essays by Christian and Jewish
scholars lies in its comprehensiveness. Virtually all those aspects of the
Holocaust in which Christians were involved, both personally and
institutionally, are here explored in a scholarly and critical fashion,
providing not only a most useful reference work, but also guidance as to the
latest findings in the continuing historical debates over the role of the
Christian community during the tragic era of Jewish persecution and death.
Excellently produced, well illustrated, sensitively edited, the book is
intended as a resource for informed church laity or study groups or visitors
to Holocaust memorial centres such as Yad Washem in Jerusalem.
What Christians did or failed to do during the Holocaust continues to haunt
and challenge the Christian world. Few Christians risked their lives to help
Jews escape the Nazi perils. Most stood aside as bystanders. The authors’
search for explanations for these stances avoids too much moralizing
lamentation, but certainly pinpoints the deficiencies in Christian
theological and ecclesiastical attitudes. Included along the edge of the
pages, in side-bars, are useful quotations, questions for reflection and
suggestions for further English-language reading. Also helpful are a
comprehensive 10-page chronology, an up-to-date videography, and a list of
international on-line resources. The editors hope this volume will spur
church members to recognize that the Holocaust was not just a Jewish event,
but one which affected Christianity too, and which should lead them to take
action on behalf of others in need, as part of the task of healing and
reconciliation shared by Jews and Christians alike.
Because the contributors are all from western countries, the articles
reflect an emphasis on the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches in western
Europe, but there is a short chapter on the non-established churches and
sects, and another on the non-Jewish victims of the Holocaust. The situation
in 1933 in both the major German churches is suitably analyzed, and
criticism expressed of the unwillingness amongst either Protestants or
Catholics to see the now-threatened Jewish community as falling within their
circle of obligation, after so many centuries of antipathy and disdain. More
pertinently, the absence of any philo-semitic tradition could have been
noted. It is this feature – a positive willingness to support Jews – which
is excellently described in the chapter entitled “A glimmer of light” which
outlines the few but heroic Christian rescue efforts in various countries.
Particularly among Reformed church members, such as the family of Corrie ten
Boom in Holland, or the French villagers of Le Chambon, this motive gave
strength and courage to these “Righteous Gentiles”. It is also good to have
recorded the actions of lesser-known figures such as Metropolitan
Chrysostomos of Greece or Mother Maria Skobtsova, a Russian nun in France,
murdered at the very end of the war.
The chapter on the reactions of the churches in Nazi-occupied Europe is
informative, especially on little-known areas such as Bulgaria, Slovakia and
Denmark. However, Norway, Greece and Yugoslavia are omitted, while Italy is
included in the chapters on the Vatican where the recurrent differences of
opinion about Pus XII’s policies are well aired.
The final part covers the post-holocaust period, showing how Christians have
responded in interfaith dialogue since the 1960s to bring about a striking
change. Both the initiative of Pope John XXIII and the Second Vatican
Council, as well as equivalent measures adopted by many Protestants, have
ushered in a wholly new relationship with Judaism, which must be seen as the
most significant theological development of the twentieth century. This
clearing away of the Church’s unfortunate legacy now offers both Catholics
and Protestants an opportunity to begin a new chapter, with the shadow of
the Holocaust as a constant reminder of the dangers of the past. Several
short chapters outline the activities which could further this goal, and the
issues which remain to be confronted. These are particularly valuable for
discussion groups or parish seminars, and as such can be warmly commended.
JSC

b) Uwe Werner, Anthroposophen in der Zeit des Nationalsozialismus
(1933-1945).
Munich: R.Oldenburg Verlag 1999, 473 pp.
It is good to see yet another solidly researched account of the fate of a
small sect persecuted by the Nazis, namely the Anthroposophists who were the
followers of Rudolf Steiner. Before his death in 1925, Steiner had moved the
headquarters of this movement to Switzerland, leaving various small groups
in Germany to propagate his ideas, the most successful of which were the
Waldorf schools. Steiner’s views were individualistic, international and
highly ethical. Hence there was no sympathy for Nazism, even though some of
the members were overwhelmed by the apparent success of the Nazis in 1933.
For their part, the Nazis looked on antrhroposophism as an eclectic
conglomeration of exotic ideas, and its followers as sectarian and dangerous
to the regime. Consequently the Nazi radicals, especially in the SD and the
Gestapo, were soon prepared to take measures to suppress the sect’s
activities and even its existence. And even though some anthroposophists
tried to protect their institutions by stressing their national loyalty,
this did them little good. In fact, it took six years before these policies
of persecution were fully effective. But resistance from such a small group
of basically unpolitical enthusiasts could only be limited, especially as
there was no centrally directed organizational structure.
Uwe Werner has searched the relevant archives and presents his material with
flair. His task was made easier by the opening of official records
previously held in Moscow and East Berlin, but on the other hand hindered by
the evident reluctance of leading members of this group after 1945 to record
their immediate recollections or to attempt to come to terms with their
past. But the Nazis’ own files provided him with significant material to
depict their campaign of persecution. Already in 1933 accusations were
directed against Steiner and Steinerism, lumped together with Free Masonry,
Communism and Judaism. The influence of spiritism, occultism and hypnotism
which Steiner’s followers allegedly practised was enough to call forth
vehement attacks from Nazi propagandists. In November 1935 the Gestapo
prohibited the Anthroposophist Society throughout Germany as being “a danger
to the state”, even though leading members were still negotiating with
various Nazi offices about how to continue their activities. It was another
sign of Himmler’s winning the battle for totalitarian control in the Nazi
polycratic structures. Yet, the Fuehrer’s deputy, Rudolf Hess, showed some
interest in the anthroposophists’ ecological policies. So, when Hess fled to
Scotland in 1941, his opponents were quick to blame Steiner’s occultism as
the cause of his highly damaging defection. And it is clear that Hitler
ordered even more drastic measures against this sect as a result. However,
the Gestapo did not order mass imprisonments, or only for short durations.
Luckily, therefore, enough anthroposophists were able to maintain their
beliefs so that Nazism did not succeed in extinguishing the group entirely,
any more than was the case with other small prohibited sects. And after 1945
they were to reemerge to begin all over again.
JSC

c) Holger Roggelin, Franz Hildebrandt. Ein lutherische Dissenter im
Kirchenkampf und Exil. (Arbeiten zur kirchlichen Zeitgeschichte, Reihe B,
Darstellungen 11) Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1999. 350pp
Franz Hildebrandt was a close friend of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. They met in
1927 as young students of Adolf von Harnack, and remained close until the
outbreak of war in 1939 broke off all contact. He has often been seen as a
foil to his more famous friend, but Holger Roggelin successfully undertakes
to portray Hildebrandt in his own light. Hildebrandt was three years
younger, but came from a similar upper bourgeois academic background, and
strangely enough wanted to study theology to make sense of the confused
world of the 1920s. From 1931 the two men were drawn together by the
increasing political tensions which spilt over into the church. The rise of
the Nazis to power was particularly ominous for Hildebrandt since his mother
was of Jewish origin. The victory in mid-1933 of the pro-Nazi “German
Christians” and their demand for the purging of all “non-aryan” pastors, led
both young friends to seek a post abroad, in Bonhoeffer’s case successfully
but not so for Hildebrandt. However, he at once supported Martin Niemoeller’
s opposition group, the Pastors’ Emergency League, and sought to mobilize
church opinion against the nazification of church life, especially against
the denial of the rights of the Jewish Christians. In October 1933 he
resigned his curacy and went to London as Bonhoeffer’s guest. But in January
Niemoeller summoned him back to Berlin to help defy the ruling church
authorities. At that time, the model he sought was that of Thomas Chalmers
who had led his followers out of the Church of Scotland a hundred years
earlier to found a Free Church, based solely on biblical truth. But he was
to be disappointed. Too many of his colleagues still hankered after some
attachment to the national church, so that the dissenters had to be content
with a Confessing Church instead, which audaciously claimed to be the “true”
German Evangelical Church and condemned the “German Christians” as heretics.
Such a stance inevitably involved compromises, as the Confessing Church
members sought to reconcile their national and ecclesiastical loyalties, to
be good Germans and good Christians at the same time.
As Roggelin makes clear, Hildebrandt shared this dilemma. On the one hand he
encouraged and promoted efforts to protect the Nazis’ victims, especially
the Jews, but yet could still believe that the Nazi state could be brought
to behave along Christian ethical lines. Too many of his colleagues shared
this illusion – right up to 1945. And, with regard to the Jews, too often
the Confessing Church showed by its language and expressions how much it
participated in the Nazified atmosphere of disdain. Hildebrandt grew
increasingly dismayed by this readiness to abandon the Christian
“non-aryans”, and rightly believed this would be the test case for the
ethical stance of the Confessing Church. At the same time, he still retained
a very traditional Christian view towards the Jews in general, affirming
their eventual destiny to be converted to Christianity. Nor did he have any
particular sympathy for Zionism.
In 1937 the situation became critical. The Gestapo pounced on the leaders of
the Confessing Church. On July 1st they arrested Niemoeller, who thus began
his eight years’ incarceration. Hildebrandt was also arrested on a lesser
charge, but after a month was released. He realized he had to emigrate. So
he fled to England, where he was warmly received as a welcome reinforcement
by his staunch friend Pastor Julius Rieger, who was upholding the Confessing
Church among the German community in London. Hildebrandt quickly became
involved with other emigres and refugees, and realized how much the church
had left them in the lurch. But the Berlin church authorities threatened
reprisals if he were to preach or more actively campaign in England, a step
supported by the majority of the German pastors in Britain whose put their
national loyalties above any solidarity with the refugees. It was largely
this opportunistic behaviour and the subsequent refusal of such church
leaders to acknowledge any sense of guilt even after Hitler was overthrown
which deterred Hildebrandt from returning to Germany or ever setting foot in
Berlin again.
Attempts to find Hildebrandt a teaching post in Britain failed. But in 1939
he was enrolled as a graduate student in one of Cambridge’s theological
colleges, and at the same time was given the task of ministering to the
group of exiles and refugees gathered in this city. The local clergy gave
strong support and even arranged for joint Anglo-German services to be held,
the first of which took place on the very day war was declared. As the
English vicar noted: “The fact that two congregations of two nationalities
at war could meet together in common worship at such a moment was a pledge
that here, at any rate, the anti-German hysteria which disgraced Church and
Nation in 1914 would not occur again.”
Nevertheless in the summer of 1940 security reasons led to all enemy aliens
including Hildebrandt being interned on Whit Sunday, immediately after
preaching in Holy Trinity Church. Appointed to be “camp speaker” he was
saved from being sent to Canada or Australia, and at the same time became
even more heavily involved in pastoral work for his fellow internees for
whom the uncertainty about their future was often traumatic. Bishop Bell’s
support gave the refugees, and especially the pastors, enormous
encouragement. Thanks to his intervention, most of the clerics were
released, and in October Hildebrandt was able to return to Cambridge.
Roggelin’s account of the Christian Fellowship in wartime, along with the
inevitable nationalist and theological tensions which ensued, is excellently
done Notable was the warm reception given to these German preachers even in
places suffering from German bombing. Hildebrandt’s pacifist inclinations
were however suspect from some of the more militant English Christians. Long
debates about using him for the BBC broadcasts to Germany continued for
several months, but finally from the end of 1942 he was able to take part,
even though very well aware that such services could be misused for
political purposes. His staunch adherence to his Lutheran theological
heritage, however, increasingly separated him from Anglicanism and the
Church of England, as represented in Cambridge by Charles Raven, Master of
Christ’s College, with whom Hildebrandt had a notable theological
controversy, opposing what seemed to him to be the English sin of liberal
Pelagianism and universalism.
After the war ended, his reluctance to return to Germany, and his
unwillingness to undergo re-ordination into the Church of England, led him
to become a Methodist, all the more gladly since he noted the connection
between Luther and the Wesleys. After serving a parish in Edinburgh, he was
appointed to the Methodist Drew University in New Jersey and served there as
teacher and pastor for several years. He died in Edinburgh in 1985.
Roggelin’s final chapter is devoted to an insightful analysis of Hildebrandt
‘s complex relationship with Bonhoeffer. In the post-war years he was
frequently invited to contribute to the vigorous controversies about the
significance of Bonhoeffer’s witness and theology. But he continually
refused. “The friendship was of an intimacy which makes it impossible for me
to enter the debate about him”. But undoubtedly, Roggelin believes,
Hildebrandt was not enamoured with the more popular exploitation of
Bonhoeffer’s catchy slogans of “the world come of age” or “religionless
Christianity”, and still less with the interpretations of such commentators
as Bishop John Robinson in “Honest to God” in the 1960s. Robinson’s attempt
to replace the traditional orthodox doctrines of God he regarded as merely a
“sell-out”.
On the other hand, Roggelin asserts, Hildebrandt did have a considerable
influence on Bonhoeffer in the early years, especially through his deep
knowledge of the Bible and his pacifism. Both men were fated to become
outsiders in the Lutheran world of their day. And this characteristic marked
Hildebrandt’s career for the rest of his life. As a champion of Christian
eschatological hope and humanitarian ethical obligations, Hildebrandt
deserves to be known in his own right. This initial biography gives us an
insightful picture and a fair tribute to one who was destined to be a
continual dissenter and who thereby exemplified the cost of discipleship.
JSC

 

d) G.Besier, Kirche, Politik und Gesellschaft im 20. Jahrhundert, Munich:
R.Oldenbourg Verlag, 2000. 184pp
This compact volume of 184 pages is in reality a handbook, one of a series
of approximately 100 titles which together comprise a vast project to
provide an Encyclopaedia of German History. Prof. Besier has already written
the volume for the churches in the 19th century, and now gives us this
concise but insightful survey of the 20th.
The book falls into three equal parts: the first 60 pages describe the major
events from 1918 to 1989 in which the churches were involved, which is
necessarily a very quick hop,skip and jump over such a turbulent and often
traumatic period.
The second 6o pages analyze the historiography and research trends, covering
the range of controversies which have sprung up over the past few decades,
as well as indicating the gaps and shortfalls in this coverage.
The third section lists the major works in this field, concentrating on the
most recent publications which have appeared in the last twenty years.
Almost exclusively this bibliography consists of German authors.
Students in our field will no doubt be interested in Prof. Besier’s views in
the central section where he examines some of the disputes among historians
of the churches, including several in which he himself has been involved.
For example, he takes issue with the kind of apologetic historiography of
the immediate post-war years, not only from the formerly pro-Nazi group of
churchmen, but also from supporters of the Confessing Church, and points out
the defects of these approaches. He outlines the debate between Klaus
Scholder and Konrad Repgen over the origins and political effect of the 1933
Reich Concordat, where the overtones of Catholic-Protestant antipathy were
unmistakable, Equally he is stringent about the defensive positions adopted
by some of the supporters of the stance adopted by the Evangelical Churches
of the now unlamented German Democratic Republic. But he also points out the
unresolved tensions in this historiography between the advocates of a less
church-centred approach, which instead argues in favour of a more integrated
stance with secular techniques and values, or those who still argue in
favour of making church history a separate endeavour with its own criteria
for evaluating events, which resists the attempt to see church history as
just another branch of social, let alone socialist, historiography. Besier
does not hide his opposition to the kind of historiography which smacks of
‘Kulturprotestantism’ with its fateful readiness to compromise with the
powers that be, whether of right or left, even with dictatorships. He points
out how readily such an approach has benefited those who collaborated with
such regimes.In place of former decisive condemnations, we now have a
pluralistic view which denies any ultimate moral values in history. The
danger of a marginalisation of theological standards is readily apparent,
and, according to Besier, should be steadfastly opposed lest church
historians once again fall into the sin of opportunistic accommodation to
modernity. He quotes with approval one of his few English-language sources:
“In the past two hundred years, many liberals have sold out under the
influence of modernity. What unites such diverse thinkers as Rudolf
Bultmann, Paul Tillich, . . . and Karl Rahner? Accommodation to modernity.
This underlying motif unites the seemingly vast differences between many
forms of existential theology, process theology, liberation theology, and
demythologization – all are searching for a more compatible adjustment to
modernity”.At the same time Besier also shows clearly enough how this debate
has been a continuing one ever since the early years of the twentieth
century. The legacy of Harnack, Troeltsch and Barth is still very much alive
and still controversial.
Such considerations lead Besier on to take up the prospects for the future –
presumably as a topic which deserves further research. His criticism of
liberal theology gives him the opportunity to point out the disastrous
tendencies of such secularizing trends, with the watering-down of doctrinal
beliefs, the substitution of secular-political social service as a major
emphasis amongst many of the clergy, the possibility of a separation of
church and state, and the rise of ersatz religions in both the political and
intellectual spheres. At the same time he can be readily critical of the
present policies of the German church leaders, both Catholic and Protestant,
designed to maintain a kind of hierarchy in church-state relations. Far from
accepting the declared freedom of religion, which would regard all
denominations as equally worthy of social acceptance, the major churches
have continued for the past fifty years to insist on a vertical scale with
themselves at the top in positions of privilege, while lower down come the
free churches, and lower still the sects and foreign imported religions, and
lowest of all such dangerous phenomena as Scientology. How long such a
system can be preserved, let alone propagated, especially when its
theological content has been so reduced, is rightly questioned.
Besier’s listing of the sources is helpful. For outsiders, even this much
abbreviated
selection shows how active the pursuit and writing of church history is in
Germany – a valid criticism of other countries’ efforts! But yet, it is also
clear that the Protestants are by far the largest contributors, and
virtually every one is masculine. This situation should indeed give us all
pause to reflect!
JSC

4) Book notes: a) ed. J.C.Linck,C.O., and R.J.Kupke, Building the Church in
America. Studies in Honor of Monsignor Robetrt F.Trisco, Washington, D.C.:
The Catholic University of America 1999, 283 pp.
This Festschrift for Fr.Trisco, the long-serving editor of the Catholic
Historical Review, exemplifies the qualities of meticulous scholarship and
broad-minded enquiry, which he himself has shown for so many years, thereby
enriching the whole Catholic constituency in North America. These essays are
written by scholars, many of whom were either pupils or colleagues at the
Catholic University, bringing a variety of interesting viewpoints to their
subjects, which range from the eighteenth century to the present.
For the historian, perhaps the most significant contribution concerns the
belated efforts of the Catholic hierarchy at the end of the 1930s to “deal
with” the problem of Father Charles Coughlin’s virulent anti-semitism. As
the object themselves of much calumny, the Catholic bishops were well aware
of the need to protect freedom of speech, and seemed to regard the
propagation of anti-Semitism as a lesser evil. By contrast, another essay
describes the sufferings of a German-American priest persecuted at the end
of the First World War for his national origins, and even convicted
evidently unjustly as a spy.
Such examples show the difficulties Catholics have had of combining their
church loyalties with their American situation, and hence the obstacles to
building the church in America.

b) H.Troper, The Ransomed of God, Toronto: Malcolm Lester Books 1999, 275pp
The title is irresistible for this Newsletter. In fact, Troper’s account
describes the indefatigable efforts of a Toronto woman, Judy Feld Carr, to
rescue Jews from Syria over twenty-five years until they were finally given
the right to emigrate in 1992. God takes a back seat in this book to the
resolute and often daring schemes undertaken to circumvent the political
barriers and heavy discriminations imposed on Syria’s Jews. Mrs Carr’s
ingenuity, as well as her capacity for raising vast sums for bribes, is
breathlessly recorded, but in the end she did manage to obtain the release
of several thousand victims of a inhuman dictatorship.

5) Journal articles:
Jeffrey Zalar, “Knowledge is Power”. The Borromausverein and Catholic
reading habits in Imperial Germany, in Catholic Historical Review, Vol
LXXXVI no 1, January 2000
This sprightly description of the work of the Borromausverein makes two
points: first, the desire of the more educated Catholics in Germany, in the
period after unification, to escape from the Protestant-led charge that they
were a backward superstitious community, still tied to clerical control and
lacking in progressive ideas. To overcome this, a huge system of Catholic
libraries was skillfully organized by the Borromausverein, which was
remarkably successful in reaching out, certainly to the urban Catholics, and
making up for earlier educational deficiencies. But secondly, the
Borromausverin sought to offset the more dangerous accusations of political
disloyalty or unreliability which their opponents had brought up during the
course of the Kulturkampf. Thus the educational work stressed their
nationalist sympathies, and as Zalar makes clear, they underwent a subtle
process of assimilation to the majority’s cultural views on political
questions. There was therefore a continual tension between the desire to
build up a separate Catholic existence, with its own identity and
institutions – as happened so successfully in Belgium and Holland – and the
desire to belong fully in the wider German nation. Zalar’s account
excellently recreates the atmosphere of these endeavours. And it is to be
hoped that he will be able to continue his study by looking at the even more
dramatic developments which happened after the downfall of the imperial
system.
Larry E. Jones, Catholic Conservatives in the Weimar Republic. The politics
of the Rhenish-Westphalian aristocracy, 1918-1933 in German History, Vol 18,
no 1, 2000
Larry Jones gives us a sweeping condemnation of the activities of the
Rhenish-Westphalian aristocrats after the first world war. Their deliberate
undermining of the legitimacy of the new republic, and their strong
influence on the local Catholic population against democracy and
parliamentarianism are here carefully but damningly outlined. It is
impossible to ignore the fact that this same reactionary group supported the
rise of Nazism and that many of these aristocrats played leading roles in
this area of Germany, at least in the initial years. By giving
respectability to the Nazi cause, they became a willing and integral part of
the conservatives’ close alliance with totalitarianism. Jones’ essay sheds
light on the political stance of Bishop Galen and his relations, which is
hardly flattering, despite the attempts after 1945 to portray them as heroes
of the Resistance.

With best wishes,
John Conway
jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

Share

April 2000 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

Newsletter- April 2000- Vol.VI, no. 4

guest editor: Doris L. Bergen, University of Notre Dame

CONTENTS:

1) Obituary for Eberhard Bethge

2) Excerpt from the foreward (by Clifford Green) to the new edition of Eberhard Bethge’s Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography (edited and translated by Victoria Barnett)

3) Viewpoints on the Pope’s Visit to Israel

a) Scott Appleby
b) Susannah Heschel

4) Book review of Anne Loveland, Evangelicals in the United States Military

5) Book notes:

a) John Cornwell, Hitler’s Pope
b) Susannah Heschel, Abraham Geiger and the Jewish Jesus
c) Robert P. Ericksen and Susannah Heschel, eds., Betrayal: German Churches and the Holocaust
d) Gerhard Lindemann, “Typisch jüdisch” Die Stellung der Ev.-luth. Landeskirche Hannovers zu Antijudaismus, Judenfeindschaft und Antisemitismus 1919-1949

5) Conference Reports:

a) American Society of Church Historians, January 2000
b) Holocaust and Churches Conference, Philadelphia, March 2000
c) Military Chaplains in their Contexts, March 2000

6) Research in Progress: Victoria Barnett

 


 

Dear Friends

Many thanks to John Conway for inviting me to edit the newsletter for
April 2000. The last month has been an eventful one, both for scholarship
in church history and even more significantly, for the churches in the
world today. Some of the news is sad: Eberhard Bethge, biographer and
publicist of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and an influential theologian in his own
right, died in March. John Conway’s moving obituary of a man many of you
knew personally is the first item in this newsletter. Information on the
new, English-language edition of Bethge’s biography of Bonhoeffer
follows.

Pope John Paul II’s trip to Israel caused a sensation this past month,
although reactions among Christians, Jews, and Muslims have ranged from
euphoria to resentment. Not often do events connected with the churches
make top news stories all over the world; not often are scholars of
religion called on to discuss international politics on primetime
television. March 2000 saw both phenomena. I have tried to provide a
sense of that coverage by including a section called “Viewpoints on the
Pope’s Visit to Israel,” featuring reflections by Scott Appleby and
Susannah Heschel. Other items this month–book reviews, notes, conference
reports, and an account of research in progress–address matters that
were central to Eberhard Bethge (and Dietrich Bonhoeffer) and echo issues
that the Vatican and our newspapers remind us are still at stake today:
Christian antisemitism; religion and war.

I am grateful to everyone who submitted items for the newsletter. I hope
that all of you who receive it will find grounds for critical reflection.
Best regards!

Doris L. Bergen

1) Obituary for Eberhard Bethge

It is with great sorrowthat we share with you the news of the death at the
age of 90 of Eberhard Bethge. Although he had been in failing health, it is
good to know that
he was recently able to celebrate the completion of the German-language
edition of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s collected works, to which he and his
wife Renata had contributed so much.

Eberhard is known primarily as the pupil and then closest friend of Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, and as the recipient of the Letters and Papers from Prison,
which were so carefully
preserved and later published under his auspices. Subsequently Bethge
went on to write what must be one of the most notable biographies of this
century. His portrait of Bonhoeffer is based both on his close personal
friendship and collaboration in the 1930s and 1940s, but also on his
sharing in Bonhoeffer’s striking challenges to Lutheran theology, and
rejection of Nazi pretensions. It was Eberhard’s determination to rescue
Bonhoeffer from the damaging accusations of national as well as
ecclesiastical disloyalty, which led him to undertake years of work to
make Bonhoeffer’s views and writings known to the world.
In this endeavour and in his personal commitment to endless meetings,
conferences and seminars, he was ably supported by Renata, as Bonhoeffer’s
niece. Eventually after years
of misunderstanding and even opposition within their own church, the
Bethges succeeded in changing the theological climate, not merely in
Germany but world-wide. Had it not been for their efforts, Bonhoeffer
might still be as largely unknown as he was at the time of his murder in
1945.

At times it could appear as though Eberhard was so devoted to the memory and
legacy of Bonhoeffer that he was unable to develop his own theological
stance. But in fact
his services in the cause of Christian-Jewish reconciliation deserve to
be remembered as a highly significant contribution to this very
problematical field. It was largely due to Eberhard’s persuasions that
the Rhineland Synod of the German Evangelical Church in 1980 issued a
notable declaration on this subject which demonstrated an unprecedented
readiness amongst Lutherans to acknowledge the sins of the past, and
called for a wholly new stance towards Judaism.

Immediately after the war, Eberhard had served in the London Lutheran
parishes where Bonhoeffer had preceded him. He there gained a fluency in
English and with
English-speaking theology which opened many doors. He was frequently a
welcome guest in North America, as for example at the Annual Scholars’
Conferenmce on the Holocaust and the Churches. His genial and warm
friendliness was guaranteeed to counteract any lingering anti-German
prejudices left over from the Nazi period. He and Renata were in this
sense marvellous ambassadors for the new Germany and standing rebuttals
of the exaggerated charges of such as Daniel Goldhagen. Though never
employed in a German theological faculty, it would be true to say that
his theological influence has been of enormous value to contemporary
Protestantism. He will be much missed.

– John S. Conway, University of British Columbia

2) Victoria Barnett has prepared an edition in English of
Eberhard Bethge’s _Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Biography_. The following is an
excerpt from the foreword by Clifford Green:
This new edition of Eberhard Bethge’s classic biography of Dietrich
Bonhoeffer brings into English for the first time the complete text of
the German edition that was first published in 1967. It includes all
material that was omitted or abridged in the 1970 English translation,
and all revisions and additions made to subsequent German editions.
This new English edition has been enhanced in other ways as well. In
addition to citing English translations of Bonhoeffer’s books in the
notes, it provides citations to the newly completed German critical
edition of his writings, the <underline>Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Werke</underline>. Because this seventeen-volume collection contains
material not published in the <underline>Gesammelte Schriften
</underline>when the biography was first published, it has been possible
to add numerous notes. Finally, Victoria Barnett has compared the entire
text of the latest German edition with the previous translation and made
numerous corrections throughout. Because of all these enhancements, this
classic of twentieth-century biography comes back into print with even
greater vitality, pertinence, and durability.
Since its first publication in Germany three decades ago, the biography
has gone through eight editions. By the fifth edition in 1983, the
research of a growing number of scholars had begun to supplement Eberhard
Bethge’s monumental work. How was the biographer to respond to this
development? While welcoming the new research, Bethge decided not to
rewrite the biography. As he wrote in the preface to the 1983 edition,
the biography should “show what its original inspiration was and
continued to be.”
Eberhard Bethge turned 90 last August. The new edition of the biography
appeared shortly before his death on March 18. It is a tribute to his
outstanding contribution to the church and to the history of our times —
not only through this book but through his decades of work as the editor
of Bonhoeffer’s writings, as a lecturer and teacher, and as a generous
friend and helper to all whose research has built on his own. Bonhoeffer
wrote eloquent theology about human community. This was embodied in his
leadership in the Confessing Church and his work in the resistance
movement on behalf of Germany and peace. It was also embodied in
friendship. “Finest and rarest blossom, at happy moment springing from
the freedom of a lightsome, daring, trusting spirit, is a friend to
friend,” wrote Bonhoeffer in Tegel Prison in his poem “The Friend.”
Without Eberhard Bethge, the legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer in all
likelihood would have gone unnoticed. This biography is a fruit of that
friendship, and the biographer has widened the circle and spirit of that
friendship around the world.
Now that the twentieth century has ended we can assess its achievements
and horrors from a broader perspective than was possible when this
biography was first published. In that light, the life and theology of
Dietrich Bonhoeffer have a paradigmatic significance for the church that
transcends his own lifetime and transcends this century — a witness
against humanity’s perennial temptation to idolatry and its destruction
of life, and a witness to the authentic humanity that is the fruit of a
genuine Christianity.

– Clifford Green

3) Viewpoints on the Pope’s Visit to Israel
a) Scott Appleby, University of Notre Dame:
A good deal of commentary on Pope John Paul II’s visit to the Holy Land
explored the political implications of the itinerary, and weighed the
words and actions of the pope in this light. Nonetheless, the pope did not
journey to the Holy Land to endorse specific political positions, or to
move the peace process in a partisan direction; he was hunting bigger
game-cultural/religious reconciliation and dialogue.
There will be no durable peace in the Middle East without some measure
of religious and cultural “acceptance” on the ground, the pope correctly
knows (as did the late King Hussein of Jordan, who often made a similar
claim). Shaping cultural values and promoting religious reconciliation is
the first step in achieving the kind of social and cultural receptivity to
peace accords.
The pope’s remarks and itinerary were, indeed, politically calculated, but
at this higher level of abstraction, so that the pope “kissed the soil” of
the Palestinian West Bank as well as the Jewish Galilee, visited Jewish and
Muslim as well as Christian sacred sites in Jerusalem, and identified
with the human suffering and religious/spiritual aspirations of every side
of the conflict-the Palestinians as well as the Jews, the Muslims as well
as the Christians.
Did the visit have more concrete political implications? Of
course, it did-inevitably. But an analysis of the pope’s actions and
words on this level reinforce the notion that he was more concerned with
building inclusive cultural alliances than with promoting a specific
political
outcome. His overt political references-e.g., to the Palestinian right to
a “home land” (he disappointed those who wanted him to use the word
“state”)-were in fact cautious, designed to avoid undermining his
cultural priorities. Actually he did no more than to endorse “the facts in
the
field” as they had been accepted by all major players prior to his arrival.

b) Susannah Heschel, Dartmouth College
First, I believe the Pope’s visit to Israel, especially to Yad Vashem,
was deeply moving to Jews around the world. His comments at Yad Vashem
about the need for silence were very appropriate and seemed soothing to Jews
who are often wary of Christian leaders. It was clear that he spoke with
genuine empathy. The event was historic, something that will be
mentioned in the future in Jewish history textbooks.
Of course, the Pope’s audience was Catholic as well as Jewish, and for
Catholics around the world, this was an important lesson. Most are
perhaps unaware of his earlier statements about Jews and Judaism, of his
visit to
a Rome synagogue, or even of his apology the week before his trip. Not
only did Catholics learn from their Pope how one should respond to Jewish
suffering, they also heard the Pope affirm the continued validity of
Judaism, a lesson many of them need.
At the same time, some Jews were disappointed. Because this Pope has
been at the forefront of improved Catholic-Jewish relations, many Jews had
hoped he might go further while in Israel and express a sense of
responsibility for the misdeeds of the Vatican during the years of the
Holocaust. They
were disappointed. While the Pope spoke specifically about Christians
who acted heroically during the Holocaust to save Jews, he might have also
spoken about those who failed to save Jews, those who were indifferent.
Some Jews feel the Pope should apologize for the Holocaust, because,
unfortunately, there are some Jews who look at a cross and see a
swastika. They confuse the Nazis with the Vatican, Hitler with the Pius XII,
perpetrators with bystanders. Important historical and moral
distinctions are thereby lost. Personally, I don’t want an apology. For one
thing, I
don’t think that an apology is commensurate with the horror of the
Holocaust. And if the Pope were to apologize, then to whom? He would
have to apologize to the people who were murdered, which he cannot do. No
Jew today can accept an apology on their behalf. Nor are Jews really
prepared to
offer forgiveness – that, too, would be inappropriate.
We have not yet been able to determine the nature of Vatican
responsibility during the Nazi years, because the Vatican has not yet opened
its
archives to historians for their scrutiny. Far more valuable than an apology
would be for the Pope to open those archives.
Until now, many Jews, especially Israelis, have not been very interested
in Christianity or in Catholic theology. The Pope’s visit has brought
Catholicism to the attention of Israelis and to Jews around the world,
demonstrating that it is not only the religion of Crusades,
Inquisition, and the Holocaust, but also of the Second Vatican Council and
Nostra
Aetate, of a new attitude and openness.

4) Book Review
Anne C. Loveland, American Evangelicals and the United States
Military, 1942-1993. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press,
1996. Pp.356.$55.00, hardcover.
Reviewed by Duff Crerar, Grande Prairie Regional College

During the Gulf War, rumours of revivals among the troops
thrilled American evangelicals, helping to balance other
rumours about rampant immorality within the gender – mixed forces.
Stories emerged of dedicated “Bible-believing” chaplains (who were
found in greater numbers than ever among the padres) effectively
“getting through” to their men, and evangelicals having great
influence with fellow-soldiers. While the revival tales were nothing
new to students of American wars and religion, what was new was the
high profile of evangelical Christianity over there – the culmination
of trends in both the United States military and society since the
Vietnam War. Not since the 1860s had evangelicalism so dominated the
chaplaincy – in fact the entire military establishment. How did this
come to pass?
Anne C. Loveland’s fine book provides a careful examination of this
complex but profound and growing interrelationship between fighting
Americans and evangelical Protestantism. She thoroughly and
convincingly documents the growth of evangelicalism in American
society after the Second World War and correlates it to the growing
numbers and influence of evangelicals in both the chaplaincies and
officer corps as well as the ranks of the military. Whereas other
denominations increasingly turned away from war, and
often became outrightly anti-military during the turbulent
Vietnam years, evangelicals identified military men and women
as a vital mission field, and, as loyal Cold Warriors, became
increasingly pro-military in their orientation. Whereas many secular
American soldiers found Vietnam a spiritually searing experience,
evangelicals found it an energizing crucible of faith. Loveland provides
several convincing studies of prominent chaplains, flag officers and Chiefs
of defense staff who played leading roles in
fostering this mutual reinforcement.

Such renewed interest in the soul of the military corresponded with
the increasing stake in mainline American society held by the
socially, economically and politically rising evangelical classes of
American society (remember the endorsement of the Eisenhower
presidency by the young Billy Graham?). Just as the Cold War and
Vietnam crisis hardened mainline (and we can talk about
evangelicalism becoming “mainline” in American public life by the
1980’s) evangelical militancy, so embattled officers and
soldiers, thanks to the legacy of Vietnam, came to trust and even
welcome the only segment of American Protestantism which faithfully
supported their wars. American soldiers learned that
they could count on the evangelicals, both in public life (and
controversy), and in the field. By the 1980s, even flag officers and
staff officers of the highest rank were found at prayer-breakfasts
and upholding the work of evangelicals such as James Dobson, the
Navigators, and Full Gospel Christian Businessmen among the troops.

Such close mutual relationships, however, have their weaknesses. It
is especially poignant for a scholar of First World War chaplains to
read the religious phrases and preaching sentiments of the trenches
repeated in the boonies of Vietnam, given the profound
disillusionment felt by many veterans after both wars. Chaplains,
by the 1960’s, no longer could exercize as prophetic a role as they
had when militarism and evangelicalism were mutually suspicious (a
situation before and during much of World War Two). Evangelicals
still wince when they remember how the Nixon presidency
turned the tables on them, and impaled even Billy Graham on
the horns of the religion-state policy dilemma. Parallels with
the 1980s and the Reagan administration are obvious. The alliance of
evangelicals and officers works well when American civil religion
embodies evangelical values, but what happens when (as in the early
1990s) the Commander-in-Chief wants to bring gays into the military?
As Loveland points out, the steady and stubborn resistance to the
Clinton administration on this issue may well have been the last
victory of the military evangelicals, as new secular – and religious
– movements arise to challenge the public Christianity of United
States politics and society. As evangelicalism continues to fragment
and divide in American public life, how will this affect the troops?
This, and other religious developments in and around the United
States Armed Forces, obviously bear watching.

Clearly anyone arguing that armed forces are representative cross-samples of
their host societies will find Loveland’s book of interest. Especially
provocative are the implications of the growing divorce between American
society and its increasing pluralism and the conservative military creed of
its fighting men and women. Pluralism
will certainly remain a fundamental challenge to the evangelical
military consensus. But Loveland’s book is still only a first word on
the subjects of American civil and military religion. Roman Catholics
have not by all means been anti-war through this period, and call
for detailed study. Loveland’s work concerns, primarily, officers
and chaplains, as well as public and policy relationships: what about
the effects at the level of the rank-and-file? What about “folk
religion” in United States forces: that blend of fatalism,
patriotism and the cult of honour and duty which so resembles the
Mithraism of the late Roman Army?

Loveland’s book is a dispassionate, but sensitive to the sincerity
and depth of the people who bear their creed and wear the United
States uniform. Her book will be an essential part of any study of
the U.S. military and its religions. It will have to be taken into

full account by both secular – and secularist – as well as
evangelical scholars who want to monitor the subject in future. Above
all, it profoundly adds to the growing understanding of the
interelationship of all of a society’s elements with the men
and women who guard it.

– Duff Crerar, Grande Prairie Regional College (Canada)

5) Book Notes:

I would like to draw the following items to the attention of those
readers interested in Christian antisemitism and the churches and the
Holocaust:
a) Rainer Decker’s review of John Cornwell’s _Hitler’s Pope_ (highly
recommended by John Conway) can be found at the following addresses:
http://www.h-net.msu.edu/reviews/showrev.cgi?path=3D4726951832799
or
http://members.friendfactory.com/rdecker/index.html

b) Sussanah Heschel, _Abraham Geiger and the Jewish Jesus_ (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1998): Heschel’s original and very readable
study of Abraham Geiger, a nineteenth-century Jewish theologian and
historian, “reverses the gaze” to reveal the anti-Jewish content of
familiar Christian interpretations of Jesus. Anyone interested in
Christian-Jewish relations in Europe, particularly Germany, will find
this book valuable.
c) _Betrayal: German Churches and the Holocaust,_ edited by Robert P.
Ericksen and Susannah Heschel (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999): This
collection includes essays by Ericksen, Heschel, Bergen, Shelley
Baranowski, Kenneth Barnes, Guenter Lewy, Michael Lukens, and Micha
Brumlik. Much of the material is familiar to those in the field, but
having these pieces pulled together in one volume should prove useful for
students. At least some readers of this newsletter have already assigned
parts of the book in their classes.
d) Gerhard Lindemann, _”Typisch juedisch”: Die Stellung der Ev.-luth.
Landeskirche Hannovers zu Antijudaismus, Judenfeindschaft und
Antisemitismus 1919-1949″_ (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1998): In more
than 1000 pages this book recounts the depressing history of Protestant
hostility toward Jews and converts from Judiasm to Christianity in the
Hanover region. Less detail and more analysis might have made for easier
reading, but the study is nevertheless extremely useful, in particular
for its treatment of pastors defined as “non-Aryan” under the Nazi
regime. (I will be reviewing this book at length in _The Catholic
Historical Review._ )DB

5) Reports from Conferences
a) The American Society of Church Historians
On January 6-9, 2000, downtown Chicago swarmed with historians.
Walking along Michigan Street that weekend, one could catch fragments of
intricate historiographical discussions and debates of all sorts as the
participants of the American Historical Association’s annual meeting
wandered out of
their hotels and into the brisk wind. Around the Downtown Chicaco
Marriott, these discussions tended to center around religious
themes–since there most historians participated in the meetings of the
American
Society of Church History, alongside those of the AHA.
Founded in 1888, the American Socity of Church History encompasses a
broad range of topics relating to religious history. Sessions ranging from
“Demons in Late Antiquity” to “Religion on the Edge: Heterodoxy and
Orthodoxy on Frontiers of Christianity” opened for discussion religious
topics reaching around the globe. While many sessions focused on more
traditional American church history topics, such as “Continental
Pietism and German-American Religious Traditions” and “Twentieth-Century
Biblical Exegesis,” other sessions like “Queer Theory and the Study of
Ancient
Christianity” pressed into less familiar territory.

Several of the sessions and individual papers dealt with women, gender,
and religion. Some of the established historians of women in religious
history noted during a breakfast for Women in Theology and Church History
that
this had not always been the case. They reminisced about their early years
in the organization when it was very much male dominated, and welcomed the
younger women who as graduate students or professors had joined their ranks.

The sessions gave both distinguished scholars and graduate students
opportunities to present their work. Several graduate students from=20
the nearby University of Notre Dame, as well as students from around the
country, gave papers at the conference and benefited from helpful
feedback for their continuing studies. The congenial atmosphere at the
conference made it possible for historians of all ages to share their work
and to
leave with fresh ideas for further research.

– Kristin Kobes, University of Notre Dame

b) Holocaust and the Churches Conference, Philadelphia

The highlight of this year’s Scholars’ Conference on the Holocaust and
the Churches, held at St. Joseph’s University, Philadelphia, from March
4th – 7th, was the award of an honorary degree to Elie Wiesel. As the
Conference patron, Wiesel has addressed this group frequently with
insight and inspiration. So it was highly interesting to hear his
confident opinion that “Never in history have Christian-Jewish relations
been so good”. Wiesel attributed this to the significant change in
Christian attitudes over the past generation, and the example of the
present Pope, of whom he was at first suspicious, but now admires for his
tenacity and sincerity on this matter.
Certainly the atmosphere at the conference fully reflected Wiesel’s
opinion. Over 400 registrants took part, and lively discussions followed.
Particularly notable was the larger number of women participants, some of
whom gave first-rate thoughtful papers. As usual, we had several valuable
contributions to the history of the Nazi period, which added yet further
mosaic stones to the wider picture. At the same time, the larger debates,
such as the uniqueness of the Holocaust, were revisited, and new
interpretations explored. One notable innovation was a televised
conference call to Jerusalem, so that we were able to see Professor
Yehuda Bauer on one half of the screen, and the local speakers on the
other, for nearly two hours. At this session a particularly significant
speech was made by Ward Churchill, speaking for the American native
Indian community, which reminded us that the issue of restitution and
reconciliation with this community has as yet hardly been touched. At the
same time, it was good to learn about the building of a new Holocaust
memorial centre in Britain, with the hope that the same process of
exchange of views between Christians and Jews will receive an additional
impetus in that country. As usual the conference concluded with sessions
devoted to the strategies for teaching this legacy to the next
generation. Once again we are grateful to the leadership provided by
Franklin and Marcie Littell for organising such a stimulating experience
for all comers.

John S. Conway

c) Military Chaplains in their Contexts, University of Notre Dame, South
Bend, Indiana, 18-20 March 2000

In the last twenty years, a growing interest in the experiences of
clergymen ministering to soldiers has led to a wide and disparate
body of scholarly literature on the military chaplaincy. This
conference, organized by Doris Bergen and David Bachrach of the History
Department at Notre Dame,brought together several dozen scholars, chaplains
and graduate students to focus on the oft-controversial military padre.
Papers ranged
from the medieval and late-Roman origins of the office, through to the
experiences of American chaplains in Vietnam and afterwards. Two common
themes ran through most: chaplains have consistently faced profound
role tensions as representatives of both religion and the government
on the battlefield, and they have struggled for credibility with
their own men , because most chaplains were given officer or
gentlemen status, and thus represented the establishment in the eyes
of the soldiers. As a result, modern-era observers, many of them
ex-soldiers, have portrayed chaplains as ineffective and
hypocritical, having sold out to Caesar and neglected the deepest
spiritual needs of the fighting man. These discussions prompted
distinguished writer, and veteran, Paul Fussell, to suggest that
future chaplains should be non-commissioned officers, or privates,who live
with the men and share their fighting and living conditions,
much as the way medics accompanied his unit in World War II.
Fussell’s observations were illlustrated by Thomas Kselman’s
comments on French soldier-priests in World War I, but challenged

by serving chaplains present, who pointed out that without officer
rank they were unable to minister effectively to officers, or freely
function in hierarchical military cultures. Kselman’s portrait of the
soldier-priests viewing themselves as missionaries to their own
secularized state and army was also noted by other scholars of other
chaplaincies at the conference. Their missionary zeal was added to by
the intense battles between church and state in the Third Republic,
which spurred them on, along with the xenophobic nationalism of their
times. Then, as always, padres have often felt that they had
something to prove.
During the session on late Roman and medieval chaplains (which
included passages presented by Michael McCormick from a ninth-century
sermon), discussion centred on the practical and expedient as
well as spiritual tasks: chaplains were there to pray the “liturgy of
war”, but also to foster loyalty to the king and obedience and
effectiveness in the troops. By the time of the crusades, the
desperate situation of the Franks brought renewed urgency to their
prayers, which still drew on their Carolingian forefathers.
Chaplains were not only spiritual counsellors, they provided some of
the vocabulary and ideology for the institution of chivalry. As
Patrick Geary noted in his commentary, guided by the needs of the
age, the Christian priest had gone from shyness about and shunning of
war to, aided by new forms of penance before battle, baptizing and
blessing organized killing, creating the powerful vocabulary and
controversial image of the fighting saint which endures into the
modern period. The deplorable side of this, to Geary, was the way in
which the prophetic office of the cleric was undermined, and
chaplains became mere easers of conscience, while unit officers
were the true spiritual leaders of the men.
In the discussions of the chaplaincy in the early modern era, Anne
Laurence presented the complicated picture of chaplaincy to both
Royalist and Roundhead in the English Civil War. Chaplains and
soldiers found civil war one of the most complex of contexts for
discussion of religion, as the question of “which IS the state?”
blended with the religious chaos caused by the many dissenting
denominations arrayed for battle over political supremacy. The
pluralism of the Civil Wars meant that many a Parliamentary padre
spent as much time debating with his own men over which vision of the
kingdom or Kingdom was legitimate, as he did preaching the cause of
his army or easing consciences. In such wars, where preachers were
also often in short supply or unable to visit the many small
detachments throughout England, most soldiers ended up creating
their own moral and spiritual worlds. John Lynn presented a strong
contrast, in the chaplaincy to the Royal armies of Louis XIV, who

institutionalized the army chaplaincy and wedded it to a system
which became the model for other armies of Europe. Louis’s regiments
and brigades were more likely, between battles, to have absentee
officers than absentee chaplains. Chaplains became promoters of good
discipline and responsible to officers for reporting on conduct and
morale, as well as preaching the rightness of the cause.

Just as the Bourbon, so the Hohenzollern monarchy, Hartmut Lehmann
pointed out in his paper on the Prussian chaplaincy, where the first
chaplains were chosen from the ranks of Pietism to sustain conformity
and good evangelical moral discipline in the barracks. Unfortunately,
he argued, as subsequent rulers from Frederick the Great
through to Kaiser Wilhelm II involved the armies in tumultuous and
ultimately disastrous wars, the chaplaincy evolved both an ethos and
theology which made Germany’s destiny and dominance identical with
the cause of Christ, something which would have appalled the Pietist
forefathers in chaplaincy, and which led to disastrous outcomes in
World War I. Chaplain preaching ultimately embodied rather than
challenged the hyper-nationalism of imperial society. By the
end of the Great War, Lehmann argued, many chaplains, including Paul
Tillich, had realized that a fatal and even toxic union of
nationalism with faith had undermined the validity of the office and
the chaplain’s message.
Dr. Lehmann’s comments were especially apposite in the light of a
session on the world wars. Duff Crerar argued
that the negative stereotype of the military chaplaincy in Canadian
society stemmed from post-World War I distortions by an angry and highly
articulate minority of veteran writers, and that this stereotype
persists in contemporary scholarly studies of the Canadian
chaplaincy. Despite a growing body of literature on the Canadian
military chaplaincy to the contrary, most Canadian scholars and
commentators still prefer to refer back to the negative portrait
in the inter-war literature, perhaps because Canadians view
the war and its crusading rhetoric and propaganda with profound
ambivalence, and hold the padres largely, perhaps unfairly,
responsible for it.

Doris Bergen’s paper on the German army chaplains in the Nazi era made a
profound impression on participants, as she argued that, though hated by
Hitler, disadvantaged by commanders and even ordered into suicide missions,
army chaplains ministered in the face of death, paradoxically abetting the
many appalling atrocities of the war
by their presence at the front and commitment to their men.. Though few were
diehard Nazis, they ironically furthered the Nazi cause by assisting
army morale and nationalist sacrifice. In a spiritual and moral world

turned upside down, doing their best at the front would come to haunt
the German army chaplaincy after the war, and into the present.

Irony also coloured the paper given by Gardiner Shattuck on the
American Civil War. Union chaplains were haphazardly recruited
and untrained, unsupervised and unranked in the armies of the war,
and yet were expected to represent Christ in the field. Even more
chaos existed on the Confederate side. Yet padres on both sides
consistently reported the phenomenon of revival breaking out. The
fighting power of the men and the lethal battlefield technology combined
with revival to present the tremendous irony of committed evangelical
Christians slaughtering each other by the thousands. Most padres proved to
be surprisingly effective at reassuring the men that if they died they went
to
heaven, which may have made soldiers less rather than more effective in
battle, as the promise of heaven made one’s own sacrifice (rather than
killing the enemy) the main objective. Civil war padres may indeed have made
too many
soldiers too heavenly-minded to be of any earthly military good!

Retired chaplain Joseph O’Donnell, C.S.C. brought the
conference back to earth with his honest and straightforward account of
ministry in Vietnam and afterwards. His moving stories illustrated
the many challenges contemporary pluralism, peacekeeping missions and
disastrous situations create for the modern padre. Modern
communications as well as modern technology have created new
stresses as well as advantages for chaplains: next-of-kin today are
much closer in time and space to the chaplain, thanks to technology,
than they ever were before. O’Donnell’s ministry to them, judging by
his stories, remains one of the most traumatic and yet satisfying
parts of the profession. As commentator Anne Loveland put it,
chaplains since Vietnam have surrendered the front-line
morale-building role, somewhat as a result of the critics of the
Vietnam era who attacked padres as servants of state not church.
Today this has been replaced by character formation and
transformation of military culture missions, as padres in the
American forces have become more professionalized. Padres now are
moral advisors to commanders, and guardians against atrocities: they
are affirming human values in peacekeeping and peacemaking missions
as much as on the field of conventional war. Yet, pastoral care to
men and their kin at home remains, and will continue to remain, their daily
task.

As the conference closed, comments from the audience raised new
topics for future discussion. Has the density of chaplains gone up as
armies matured, and have their social origins changed from past to
present? If so, what do theses trends mean? How do military
and ecclesiastical structures (after all, chaplains are “officers” in
both) relate to each other through the office of chaplain? What does
the ecumenical and increasingly secular pluralist nature of armies
mean for chaplains, and will historic responses be adequate for the
future? Is any armed force today training chaplains adequately, and
if so, how have they learned from the past? Can padres serve in
modern armies at war without demonizing the enemy? How has the
understanding of war, from distasteful but necessity to
apocalyptic harbinger, influenced their work. And how has the ongoing
pastoral care imperative shaped chaplaincy? All these questions
continue to call for more scholarly inquiry, and, one hopes, another
conference.

– Duff Crerar, Grande Prairie Regional College (Canada)

 

6) Research in progress:

So many of the readers of this newsletter are engaged in important
programs of research. Mindful of the themes in this month’s
contributions, I asked one of them, Victoria Barnett, to describe her
current work. In addition to her edition of Eberhard Bethge’s Bonhoeffer
biography, Barnett recently published an insightful study called
_Bystanders: Conscience and Complicity During the Holocaust_ (Westport,
CT: Greenwood Press, 1999). She is also the author of _For the Soul of
the People: Protestant Protest Against Hitler_ (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1992). db

“There has already been research, notably that of Klemens von Klemperer,
on the communications between the German resistance and Catholic and
Protestant leaders abroad. Some of these Christian leaders not only
passed on German position papers, but reflected themselves on what kind
of society they hoped for in a post-Nazi Europe, and some of these
reflections included specific suggestions about the status of Jewish
citizens in European society after the fall of Nazism.

A deeper examination of the international Christian community’s knowledge
of, and response to, the persecution and genocide of the Jews offers a
context for understanding these ecumenical reflections and the
conclusions that were drawn. In any case, it is clear that these
discussions were affected by the communications being received from the
German resistance. It is particularly interesting in this context to
look at Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s reflections on the future of the church.=20
Several of his writings, including his fragmentary notes made for the
1943 Breslau synod (which he was unable to attend, since he had been
arrested) show how his notion of “religionless Christianity” was part of
a profound rethinking of the church’s place in civil society. It is
impossible to separate this development from the work he was doing for
the resistance. The case can be made, I think, that these writings
reveal much more about his attitude toward Judaism and the Jewish
community toward the end of his life than do his theological writings on
Judaism per se.

Several documents from the Myron Taylor papers in the Library of
Congress, the National Archives, the Henry Smith Leiper papers at Union
Seminary and the Federal Council of Churches archive in Philadelphia shed
light on this issue. In an interview I conducted with him in February,
Dr. Gerhardt Riegner in Geneva directed me toward copies of archival
documents that he sent to Willem Visser ‘t Hooft during the 1960s at the
latter’s request; these documents reveal much about the extent of Visser
‘t Hooft’s and Adolph Freudenberg’s knowledge and activities.
A preliminary paper on this research will be presented at the forthcoming
International Bonhoeffer Congress in Berlin in August”.

– Victoria J. Barnett, Arlington, Virginia

7) Technical Note (from previous newsletters):
This Newsletter comes to you free, gratis and without cost. Anyone who
is genuinely interested in contemporary church history is welcome to
subscribe.
Anyone desiring to unsubscribe should so indicate to the editor, John S.
Conway, and not to the list in general. His address:
jcopnway@interchange.ubc.ca.

With very best wishes,

Doris L. Bergen
Department of History
219 O’Shaughnessy Hall
University of Notre Dame
Notre Dame, IN 46556-0368
fax: 219-631-4268
tel.: 219-631-7189
******************************

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