Category Archives: Volume 17 Number 3 (September 2011)

Letter from the editors: September 2011

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Letter from the editors: September 2011

By Kyle Jantzen, Ambrose University College

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the modern martyrs celebrated in stone at Westminster Abbey. Photo credit: “Saints and Martyrs” (http://saintsandmartyrs2010.blogspot.ca/2010/04/20th-century-martyrs-3.html)

This issue of the ACCH Quarterly is our most ambitious to date, surveying aspects of German ecclesiastical history and historical theology from the nineteenth century through the post-war reconstruction of the 1950s, as well as aspects of late-nineteenth and early twentieth-century European missionary endeavours.

Amid these diverse offerings are three pieces on Dietrich Bonhoeffer, whose life and legacy continues to dominate the scholarship on modern German church history. John Conway reviews an interesting new biography … of a book: Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison. Victoria Barnett, long active in the editing and translation of Bonhoeffer literature, describes the forthcoming final volume in the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition. As well, we have provided a conference schedule and other information about the upcoming conference celebrating the completion of that same Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition.

On behalf of the other editors, let me wish you a smooth entry into the fall season (and, for many of us, a new semester of study or teaching). As always, if you have any questions, concerns, or requests, please feel free to contact me at kjantzen@ambrose.edu.

 

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Review of Anders Gerdmar, Roots of Theological Anti-Semitism: German Biblical Interpretation and the Jews, from Herder and Semler to Kittel and Bultmann

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Review of Anders Gerdmar, Roots of Theological Anti-Semitism: German Biblical Interpretation and the Jews, from Herder and Semler to Kittel and Bultmann. Studies in Jewish History and Culture, Vol. 20 (Leiden, Boston: Brill, 2009), 675pp. ISBN: 978-90-04-16851-0.

By Christopher Probst, Saint Louis University

Anders Gerdmar’s study of the approaches of German Protestant biblical scholars toward Jews and Judaism from 1750 to 1950 is a compelling work of biblical scholarship cum intellectual history. The author captures the ambiguity of the attitude toward Jews and Judaism of many of the exegetes discussed with Habermas’s moniker, “the Janus face of the Enlightenment.” The book is an interdisciplinary tour de force in which the author blends (often seamlessly) biblical theology, church history, and the history of antisemitism. It is an ambitious work, one that is both needed and well executed.

The book is presented in four parts bracketed by a thoughtful introduction and a thorough conclusion. Gerdmar takes a roughly chronological approach, beginning with eighteenth century Enlightenment exegetes and ending with National Socialist interpreters of Christian Scripture. Yet, each of the four sections of the book corresponds with a particular trajectory in biblical exegesis. Thus, for example, Adolf Schlatter, whose life and career reached into the National Socialist era, is included in Part II, “Salvation-Historical Exegesis and the Jews: from Tholuck to Schlatter.” At the close of his discussion of each exegete, Gerdmar provides a helpful short conclusion. Part I, “Enlightenment Exegesis and the Jews,” includes analysis of the work of Semler, Herder, Schleiermacher, F.C. Baur, and Ritschl, among others. Part II includes Delitzsch, Strack, and Schlatter. In Part III, “The Form Critics and the Jews,” Gerdmar analyzes the work of Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Martin Dibelius, and Rudolf Bultmann. Part IV, “Nazi Exegesis and the Jews,” is the longest section of the book and includes in-depth analysis of Kittel and Grundmann.

The author analyzes the work of these exegetes along three lines. First, he examines how each characterizes Jews and Judaism. Second, he frames the exegesis of each scholar within their symbolic world, that is, “the world of thoughts, values and ideologies” (9). Finally, he discusses whether each scholar’s representation of Jews and Judaism legitimized or delegitimized discriminatory attitudes and practices toward Jews. This approach in toto lends balance and perspective to the study. Gerdmar’s analysis of the characterization of Jews and Judaism of the exegetes provides for the reader the data pertaining to their theology of Jews and Judaism in the context of their biblical scholarship overall. The second aspect of the author’s approach is a crucial bridge from his characterization of the work of the exegetes to his discussion of whether their work would have legitimized or delegitimized Jews and Judaism in their historical context. The final aspect gives the author the opportunity to demonstrate the link between religious legitimation/delegitimation and social action (12).

Gerdmar explains that his idea of symbolic world essentially accords with Peter Berger’s symbolic universe. He applies this notion to the modern scholars examined in the book, noting that “since Jews and Judaism are an important part of the symbolic worlds of these scholars, either as positive or negative entities, I observe how they construct Jews and Judaism. I call this ideological construction of Jews the ‘symbolic Jew’ …” (11). Throughout the book, he demonstrates indeed that “it is possible to hold elevated views of the ‘symbolic Jew’, yet regard the ‘real Jew’ next door as a nuisance, or speak of ‘that Jew’ in a pejorative manner” (11).

When Gerdmar gets to Gerhard Kittel and Walter Grundmann, of course, the picture gets a bit grimmer than the one painted of the work of the earlier exegetes. Rather than a Janus-faced approach to Jews and Judaism, here we have German Protestant theology in the service of the Nazi racial state. The author develops a careful argument about Kittel’s evolution from a credible scholar with a complicated but not overtly antisemitic approach to Jews and Judaism to a racist theologian who publicly supported Nazi racial policies. Despite Kittel’s complexity, Gerdmar might be a bit too cautious when he discusses the Tübingen theologian’s odious 1943 article “Die Behandlung des Nichtjuden nach den Talmud” (The Treatment of Non-Jews According to the Talmud). Written for the Ministry of Propaganda’s Archiv für Judenfragen (Archive for Jewish Questions), it includes the charge, based in passages ripped out of their contexts, that the Talmud grants Jews the freedom to kill non-Jews. Gerdmar avers that Kittel “probably did not take pride in this article, since he does not include it in his own documentation of printed works in his defence” (495). While this conclusion seems too cautious, Gerdmar rightly condemns Kittel’s distorted presentation of Judaism, especially as evidenced by his writings during the Third Reich.

Gerdmar’s is a thoroughgoing scholarship; it is dense and heavily footnoted. While specialists might quibble with minor points here and there, the weight of the scholarship is as a whole very impressive. The book assumes at least a modicum of understanding of biblical scholarship. A working knowledge of biblical Greek is helpful for understanding some of the author’s arguments, but not essential for appreciating the work as a whole.

Gerdmar’s study demonstrates the need for scholars of religion, biblical scholars, and historians working on issues of theology and biblical studies to read and incorporate into their scholarship works from across the disciplines. It is a mature work, one that recognizes that the works of biblical scholars should be, indeed must be understood in their historical contexts. With his very competent handling of a vast array of historical literature covering the sociological and historical settings of biblical exegetes who lived in three successive centuries, Gerdmar sets an example for his fellow biblical scholars. Historians working in the area of Christian antisemitism or, more generally, those whose area of expertise is the history of religion, would do well to follow suit by immersing themselves in the theological literature of the subjects of their historical studies.

Eschewing easy answers and trite generalizations alike, this superb study significantly expands our previous knowledge about the outlook of German Protestant biblical scholarship on Jews and Judaism since the Enlightenment. The force of Gerdmar’s study rests in the weight of its measured and acute analysis. It is a must read for anyone interested in German Protestant biblical scholarship during the modern era, and would also be helpful for those interested in the history of antisemitism.

 

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Review of Manfred Gailus, Mir aber zerriss es das Herz. Der stille Widerstand der Elisabeth Schmitz

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Review of Manfred Gailus, Mir aber zerriss es das Herz. Der stille Widerstand der Elisabeth Schmitz (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), ISBN: 978-3525550083.

By Victoria Barnett, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

The individuals in Nazi Germany who acted with moral clarity, simple decency, and straightforward courage are in such short supply that they are worthy not only of honor but of serious study. As we know all too well, between 1933 and 1945 the vast majority of German citizens lived their lives in the grey zones of compromise, silence, and complicity. Those who resisted were outsiders in virtually every respect, and they remained so after 1945, when most Germans were quite uncomfortable with those in their midst who had opposed and resisted Nazism or been its victims. And by the time people became eager to uncover these stories, many of the traces had become buried.

Elisabeth Schmitz is a poignant and powerful example of one such individual. In 1999 a short study by one of her students, Dietgard Meyer, appeared as an appendix in Katharina Staritz, 1903-1953. Mit einem Exkurs Elisabeth Schmitz (Neukirchener, 1999). The 1999 essay included the startling discovery that Schmitz (not the Berlin social worker Marga Meusel) was the author of the 23-page memorandum, “Zur Lage der deutschen Nichtarier,” submitted to the September 1935 Prussian Confessing Church synod in Berlin-Steglitz. Meyer’s portrait of Schmitz proved that she had been one of the rare Germans who had consistently and at great personal cost chosen to stand by their Jewish neighbors.

As Gailus notes in this new biography, several historians were already looking more closely at the history of the memorandum; the historian Hartmut Ludwig had already confirmed that Schmitz was indeed the author. It was Gailus, however, who began to compile and document a much more comprehensive picture of Schmitz’s activities during the Third Reich and the subsequent historiography that had omitted her. The author of several fine studies on the Kirchenkampf, Gailus organized a 2007 conference in Berlin on Schmitz’s life and work; papers from this conference were published as Elisabeth Schmitz und ihre Denkschrift gegen die Judenverfolgung. Konturen einer vergessenen Biografie (1893-1977). Gailus also served as the key consultant for the film Elisabeth of Berlin produced by U. S. filmmaker Steve Martin, who produced the documentary several years ago on Robert Ericksen’s work Theologians under Hitler; both films are available from Vital Visions (www.vitalvisions.org).

Gailus has now written a biography of Schmitz that does justice both to her courage and to the troubling questions that her story raises about how historical narratives are created. Indeed, one of the most fascinating aspects of this biography is its dual narrative, which combines the story of a remarkably courageous and self-effacing woman with what Gailus calls the “Erinnerungskultur”—the culture in which the narratives of memory in postwar Germany distorted the truth and obscured those individuals who had actually spoken it during the Nazi era.

As Gailus shows us, Schmitz was an Aussenseiterin in a number of ways, both before and after 1945. She was a trained historian (she did her doctoral work under Friedrich Meinecke), Confessing Church member, and teacher at a girls’ Lyceum. Her 1935 memorandum, written shortly before the passage of the Nuremberg laws, was a painfully detailed account of what everyday life for German Jews had become and a devastating indictment of what had happened to German society. But it was directed particularly at Confessing Church leaders. “The Germans have a new god,” she wrote, “which is race.” Schmitz wrote of her hope that the Confessing Church at the Steglitz synod would speak out, “late, much too late, but nonetheless better too late than not at all … Because for the church this does not concern a tragedy that is unfolding but a sin of our people, and because we are members of this people and responsible before God for this our people, it is our sin.” She subsequently added a postscript to the memorandum after the passage of the Nuremberg laws. In addition to sending it to the synod, Schmitz personally made about 200 copies of the memorandum and circulated them among friends and people whom she hoped would have influence.

For years the author of this memorandum was believed to be Marga Meusel, a Berlin church social worker who had written another memorandum about the Confessing Church’s responsibility for its “non-Aryan” members that was submitted to the Augsburg Confessing synod in October 1934. It was, I think, an honest mistake for many of us. Copies of both documents were in the same file folder in the Günther Harder collection of Kirchenkampf documents in the Berlin Evangelische Zentralarchiv, and because Meusel’s name was written on the one memorandum (and there was no name on the other) most historians concluded that Meusel was also the author of “Zur Lage der deutschen Nichtarier” – even though a February 1947 affidavit signed by Probst Wilhelm Wibbeling had actually confirmed Schmitz as the author (a copy of the affidavit was published in Meyer’s 1999 essay). But that affidavit wasn’t in an archive, but in Schmitz’s private papers—and Schmitz, as Manfred Gailus shows, was not a self-promoter. In 1948 Wilhelm Niemoeller attributed the Steglitz memorandum to Meusel, and in the years to follow the error was repeated wherever the memo was discussed (I repeated the error in my discussion of the memorandum in For the Soul of the People).

But the story is more complicated, because as Mir aber zerriss es das Herz shows, Schmitz did far more than write the one memorandum. From the beginning to the end, she tried to help Jewish friends and colleagues and convince her church to speak out in protest. In the summer of 1933 she wrote and then met with Friedrich von Bodelschwingh, hoping to move him to speak out about the persecution of the Jews. (Her summary of his reply in an Aktennotiz in the Bethel archives begins: “For the time being, only work in silence possible.”) In the years that followed she sought out and wrote many of the leading figures in the Confessing Church—all with the hope that she could convince the Confessing Church to take a clear stand. After the November 1938 pogroms, she wrote an impassioned letter to Helmut Gollwitzer, Martin Niemoeller’s successor at the Annenkirche in Dahlem, urging him to preach openly about what had happened and to include the German Jews in the prayers of the congregation. As Wolfgang Gerlach noted in And the Witnesses were Silent, Gollwitzer’s sermon was one of the few in the aftermath of November 9, 1938, that can be considered a protest.

Then, in a remarkable act of integrity and courage, Schmitz drew the consequence that so few within the Confessing Church (or anywhere) were willing to take: she resigned her position as Studienrätin on December 31, 1938, requesting an immediate leave of absence and early retirement. “I decided to give up school service and no longer be a civil servant of a government that permitted the synagogues to be set afire,” she later wrote. In her letter to the director of the Berlin schools she told him exactly why she was doing it: “It has become increasingly doubtful to me whether I can offer instruction … in the way that the National Socialist state expects and requires of me …. I have finally come to the conviction that this is not the case.” She then quietly did volunteer work for the Confessing Church until the 1943 bombing of Berlin compelled her to return to Hanau, where she had grown up. In 1946 she returned to teaching, at a Gymnasium in Hanau.

Gailus includes several documents that give the closest glimpse of Schmitz. In addition to the text of her 1935 memorandum and the 1938 letter to Gollwitzer he has included a speech that Schmitz delivered in Hanau on September 7, 1950, at a ceremony commemorating “the victims of fascism and the war.” By 1950 German speeches on such occasions could easily slide into rationalization and alibis. Not surprisingly, Schmitz’s words summoned her audience to the responsibility of remembering and remembering accurately, not just for political reasons, but because, in her words, “otherwise we would be defrauding ourselves of our human dignity.” She concluded her remarks with references to Jochen Klepper, Hildegard Schaeder, Klaus and Dietrich Bonhoeffer—and yet said not a word about her own acts of courage and integrity.

Outside of a very small circle of acquaintances—including several Jewish colleagues whom Schmitz had helped and who wrote affidavits for her after 1945—Schmitz remained unknown and unrecognized. One reason that emerges very clearly in this biography was her modesty. The memorandum was unsigned and, with Niemoeller’s early attribution of it to Meusel, the historical record seemed to have been established. But Schmitz lived long enough that she could have corrected it (Meusel was in ill health after the war and died in 1953). And as Meyer’s 1999 essay showed, Schmitz did assemble documentation after 1945—affidavits from people she had helped as well as the affidavit from Wibbeling. She had clarified the record, at least for herself—but in the decades that followed she didn’t tell her story. Even Dietgard Meyer later told Gailus that she had never learned about the memorandum directly from Schmitz.

And no one asked her. For a very long time the women of the church struggle and resistance circles were forgotten and on the margins of the historiography. Extensive documentation emerged from the work during the 1980s of Göttingen systematic theology professor Hannelore Erhart and a group of former Confessing Church Theologinnen and doctoral students, leading to several volumes, including the 1999 one with the essay on Schmitz. My own work (For the Soul of the People, 1992) included a study of the role of women in the Confessing Church based upon of my oral histories with about 25 of the Theologinnen and women who had been in the resistance. More recently, biographies of women like Schmitz and Gertrud Staewen (Marlies Flesch-Thebesius, Zu den Aussenseitern gestellt: Die Geschichte der Gertrud Staewen, 1894-1987, 2004) have appeared.

Yet another question arises, and Gailus addresses it bluntly in this volume: why didn’t any of those who had known her and worked with her during the Nazi era come forward in the postwar era to acknowledge her courage and the role she had played? Why is it that the leading figures in the Kirchenkampf who had known her during the 1930s (Gollwitzer, Niesel, and Barth, among others)—and who eventually wrote and spoke so extensively about the events of the church struggle—failed to tell the story of Elisabeth Schmitz? The portrait of her in this biography shows a woman driven by outrage at the Nazi persecution of the Jews, someone who was active in the most prominent Confessing Church circles Berlin: in the Gossen Mission, in Dahlem, in Charlottenburg, at the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche. As yet, as Gailus notes, when Schmitz died in 1977 only seven people attended her funeral.

In any case, we now have this fine biography of Schmitz. It is among the recent German books that I wish could be published in English; it would be a strong addition to any course on the Third Reich. Her story is so compelling that I think it would find wider interest, and the chapters on Erinnerungskultur and the emergence of the historiography of the Kirchenkampf—and the emergence of her own story and the correction of the historical record—could stand alone as studies in the creation of historical narrative.

 

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Review of Martin E. Marty, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison. A biography

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Review of Martin E. Marty, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison. A biography (Princeton University Press, 2011), 275 Pp., ISBN 978-0-691-13921-0.

By John S. Conway, University of British Columbia

Princeton University Press is to be commended for launching a new series of biographies, not of well-known authors, but of their well-known books, and also for including Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison (LPP) in the first group to appear. Equally welcome is the choice as biographer of the eminent Chicago scholar Martin Marty, who has done so much to popularize religious thought in his numerous writings.

Essentially Marty gives us a well-informed survey of LPP’s reception over the past sixty-five years. He begins by describing the exceptional, almost adventitious circumstances of how the book was born. Bonhoeffer was arrested in April 1943 and placed in solitary confinement in a dank and fetid-smelling cell in Tegel Prison in Berlin. For months he suffered from being cut off from his former intellectual and pastoral activities, and from his family and fiancée. But later, thanks to a friendly prison guard, he was able to smuggle out letters, especially to his closest associate Eberhard Bethge. And then, in the period from April to August 1944, he embarked on a voyage of theological exploration, with radically challenging ideas about the future of Christian witness and the role of the church. The texts of these fragmentary letters were to form the bulk of the book at its first appearance. Although his ideas were not fully developed, it is clear that Bonhoeffer hoped they would be the basis for a future book. He therefore asked for them to be securely preserved. Bethge was then serving with the German army in Italy. But he sent the letters back to his wife in Berlin with instructions to bury them in the garden, safe from the Gestapo or air-raids. Miraculously they survived. Months later they were disinterred, and the task of deciphering Bonhoeffer’s terrible handwriting began. Thanks to Bethge’s determination, the first selection came to be published in 1951. As Marty rightly comments, “had Bethge not done his storing and editing work, the only Bonhoeffer the larger world would know was the promising theologian whose career had been cut short by the war” (39).

Bethge knew that publishing LPP was a risky business. The majority of the German Protestant clergy regarded Bonhoeffer’s participation in the plot to assassinate Hitler as a criminal dereliction of both his national and professional loyalties. Protestant clergymen could neither condone nor connive at murder, especially of the head of state. Hence the refusal by the Bishop of Munich, Hans Meiser, in early 1953 to attend a commemorative service at Flossenburg concentration camp because he saw Bonhoeffer as a political not a Christian martyr. It took many years before the climate of opinion in West Germany changed towards those who had taken part in the anti-Nazi resistance movement, and only grudgingly was this act of political witness accorded fitting recognition.

By contrast, in church circles abroad, particularly amongst supporters of the ecumenical movement such as Bishop George Bell of Chichester, Bonhoeffer’s sacrifice of his life in such a cause was early on acknowledged and acclaimed. LPP provided the evidence such supporters needed. On the other hand, the question still remains an open one whether or not the reputation of LPP was enhanced by the fact that its author died a martyr’s death.

The first translation of LPP into English was published as a slim paperback by S.C.M. Press in 1953. It received immediate praise in Britain and subsequently in North America. It came at a time when many church members were questioning their traditional orthodoxies and pietistic practices. So Bonhoeffer’s controversial and provocative ideas about “a world come of age” and the need for a “religion-less Christianity” sparked great debate. His portrayal of Jesus as “the man for others” was enormously attractive to many, but to others an exaggerated and paradoxical distortion of Christian doctrine.

In the English-speaking world, the ideas expressed in LPP gained even more notice and/or notoriety through their very wide popularization in Bishop John Robinson of Woolwich’s short book, Honest to God, which appeared in 1963. Robinson sought to show that LPP brought a message promising freedom and authenticity to a Christianity liberated from its subservience to the state and ecclesiastical tradition. Robinson’s advocacy was dynamite for a questioning church and an unstable academic community. Those seekers and devotionalists who had eagerly latched on to The Cost of Discipleship, and found inspiration and spiritual sustenance, were now jolted into a new dimension. In a world come of age, Christians were called to a much more radical obedience, both politically and socially. They were summoned to abandon the individualistic, ego-centric pursuit of personal holiness but rather to share in the sufferings of God in the world.

Robinson sought to enlist the ideas of LPP to shake up the comfortable English church establishment. But in the United States, Bonhoeffer’s radicalism was extended much further. The American theologian William Hamilton took up the non-religious interpretation of Christianity, the coming of age of the world and the need to live etsi deus non daretur, and formulated his theology for the death of God. Where Robinson sought to reform, Hamilton sought to abolish. For him Bonhoeffer was significant because he had rightly focussed on the accelerating pace of secularization, the increasing unimportance and powerlessness of religion, and the end of special privilege for religious men and religious institutions.

Such iconoclasm in pursuit of Christian atheism evoked strong responses. Hamilton was accused of distorting LPP for his own ends. But, as Marty rightly comments, Bonhoeffer did write some provocative and exploratory pages and did not live long enough to clarify and develop his concepts.

In the meanwhile, and in another quarter, Bonhoeffer’s writings were being exploited for quite different purposes. In East Berlin, in what was then the Communist-controlled German Democratic Republic, the theologians of the Humboldt University sought to use Bonhoeffer’s challenging radicalism as part of their campaign for the creation of a new Marxist-based social order. Hanfried Mueller, for example, took up Bonhoeffer’s idea of the world come of age to propagate his view that LPP envisaged a religion-less and class-less society. His advocacy for a kind of Christian utopian Marxism was aimed to build up support amongst the East German Protestant clergy for the new socialist regime in the G.D.R. Despite its brilliance, Mueller’s book found little credence. For most western critics, he distorted LPP for obvious political ends. And the whole attempt, of course, collapsed in 1989.

Such creative misuses of LPP were not destined to last. More recently, Marty notes, there has been an increasing interest in LPP among Catholic theologians, who find there an inspiring record of religious fidelity. Especially since the Second Vatican Council, many Catholics have found common fears and hopes expressed in LPP. In the drastically changed context of theology and faith, the old walls of separation have broken down, drawing both Catholics and Protestants to seek for a new ecumenically promoted agenda.

Most notable in Marty’s view is the increasing interest in Bonhoeffer among Evangelicals. Most of them, such as his recent biographer Eric Metaxas, had long favoured his earlier writings and had avoided or downplayed the radical questions posed in LPP. But here too, Marty believes, many Evangelicals are on the move from frozen positions or stereotypes. Others were attracted by the family values and social order implied in LPP.

Marty’s penultimate chapter covers the reception given to LPP in the wider world. “Who is Jesus Christ for us today?” is as captivating a question in Cape Town as it is in Korea. Even while Bonhoeffer’s reputation was still a chequered or at least an ambiguous one in his homeland, Germany, he was much more readily hailed as a prophet abroad. In South Africa, for example, the story of resistance against tyranny echoed loudly in the struggle against apartheid. LPP showed the biblical basis for identifying with the suffering and oppressed in any situation. So too in Latin America, the ideas of LPP could come to be seen as the “cusp of liberation theology” (199). But, in the course of time, there were also those liberationists and feminists who pounced on passages in LPP which they believed displayed Bonhoeffer’s paternalistic, elitist or even sexist opinions. Yet Marty is surely right to point out the dangers of anachronistic distortion. Some commentators have undoubtedly used the messages of LPP to further their own ends or to exploit Bonhoeffer’s ideology for their own purposes.

“Are we still of any use?” Marty’s final chapter discusses continuity and change in Bonhoeffer’s ideas. Many commentators, he notes, have seen a striking change between his early writings and his later prison letters. Some even, like Edwin Robertson, regard the latter as dangerous for believers, both doctrinally and morally. But Marty emphasises the continuity, especially in Bonhoeffer’s Christology. This, he claims is the connecting thread which links but also goes beyond the numerous paradoxes contained in LPP. At the same time, he asserts that it is these same intriguing reflections which have already guaranteed LPP a long life-cycle, and will undoubtedly continue to inspire and challenge both Christian and secular enquirers in the years ahead.

 

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Review of Nicolai Hannig, Die Religion der Öffentlichkeit: Kirche, Religion und Medien in der Bundesrepublik 1945- 1980

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Review of Nicolai Hannig, Die Religion der Öffentlichkeit: Kirche, Religion und Medien in der Bundesrepublik 1945- 1980 (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2010), 454 Pp., ISBN 978-3-8353-0799-5.

By Mark Edward Ruff, Saint Louis University

Nicolai Hannig’s pioneering book, The Religion of the Public Sphere: Church, Religion and Media in the Federal Republic of Germany, 1945- 1980, helps untangle the extremely complicated relationship between the Protestant and Roman Catholic churches and the burgeoning German mass media. Strongly informed by scholarship from the last decade on the German media, Hannig’s work delicately modifies common perceptions of the media as merely a mirror of society and of journalists as individuals who simply reported on what had taken place. The mass media, he convincingly shows, consisted of individuals with the power to create discourses, alter perceptions and even shape events themselves. These television reporters and producers, journalists at newsmagazines and radio-men comprise what he calls the new “media ensemble.” Hannig pays careful attention to all three genres—television, radio and print—but especially to the writers, editors and owners of the weekly news and influential illustrated magazines like Stern, Der Spiegel, Quick, Twen, Konkret, whose names will be familiar to Americans who have spent some time in the Federal Republic.

The genius of this book lies in Hannig’s application of the fruits of ongoing media research to the major issues plaguing both major German churches in the postwar era. Accounts of the German churches had long been driven by secularization narratives bleakly positing religious decline and putting forward pictures of empty church pews. Contesting scholarship has been more apt to underscore the revitalization of religion through the emergence of nontraditional alternatives ranging from the New Age to Pentecostal and evangelical movements. Seeking neither to dispel nor confirm these competing theories, Hannig turns instead to the role of the media in creating and disseminating narratives of decline and vitality. In the 1950s, the media conjured up images of religious revival, overlooking undercurrents of decline in youth organizations and elsewhere. “The revitalization of the religious in the postwar era and the 1950s,” he states, “was in this way to a significant degree a phenomenon of the media public” (100). Television broadcasts and articles in news-magazines even proudly featured scientific experts who claimed to prove the truths of biblical stories such as Noah’s ark or to demonstrate that the Virgin Mary’s final resting place lay in Western Turkey.

But from 1958 through 1966, sooner in the print media than in television, such affirmative and faith-enhancing portraits quickly became passé. The newsmagazines, in particular, exposed a church in “crisis,” one beset by a fall-off in religiosity and acrimonious conflicts between reformers and conservatives. The amount of coverage devoted to the churches, not surprisingly, grew dramatically. The aims of such reporting, particularly from 1966 through 1972, accordingly changed. Many journalists, it seems, deliberately strove to push the church out of politics and larger society as much as possible. But from the early seventies onward, coverage dropped off markedly. The media paid increasingly less attention to the institutionalized churches. It chose instead to profile cults, sects, gurus and evangelicals, alternative forms usually far removed from church doors.

How does Hannig account for what at first glance would seem to be an increasingly negative and even acerbic coverage of the churches? Why did such increasingly dismissive and marginalizing accounts ironically find resonance at the exact moment that the Roman Catholic Churches in the wake of the landmark Second Vatican Council were consciously striving to open themselves up to the modern world? Hannig convincingly lays out the significant structural transformation in the German media landscape that began around 1958 and redrew the media map in the 1960s. As a new younger generation of editors—often men in their late twenties and early thirties—assumed new leading positions as editors by the second half of the 1950s, German journalism was suddenly catapulted from a model of consensus to one of criticism. Drawing on critical formats from the Anglo-Saxon media world, including hard-hitting roundtables, open panel discussions and investigative reporting, German journalists no longer saw it as their duty to hobnob with leading politicians but to investigate, expose, and engage a critical public. Bearing out this transformation were the manifold media “scandals” of the 1960s which put politicians on the spot, brought to light wrongdoing and uncovered tarnished pasts. At the same time, the rise of television drastically altered the media landscape. While it did not immediately displace the more established radio and print mediums, it made the traditional mediums all more likely to ratchet up criticisms in a bid for readers, listeners and relevance.

But there were additional reasons for why the mass media came to look askance at the role of the churches in society and politics. The churches had been important players in the media world from the time that the Allies reorganized the German media. Most state governments created agencies to oversee radio and eventually television broadcasting. The churches dispatched their representatives directly into these agencies, where they ensured the live broadcasts of masses and church services in an astoundingly successful at outreach to those who rarely or never attended their local parishes. It becomes clear from Hannig’s account that secular journalists (an astounding forty percent were by the 1970s formally un-churched) had been chafing at the bit. Hoping to free themselves from clerical directives, they sought greater autonomy in the media sphere.

Yet one of the most impressive features of Hannig’s book is the gentle manner in which he debunks widespread perceptions of a secular anticlerical media pitted against the religious establishment. He adeptly illustrates this significantly more complicated relationship between the new media culture and religion in the Federal Republic in his depiction of Rudolf Augstein, the hard-driving founder and legendary driving force behind the prominent newsweekly, Der Spiegel. Well-known for wielding the axe against the Roman Catholic Church in various polemics, editorials and leading articles, Augstein almost single-handedly ushered in a new era of critical religious reporting. He devoted a cover of Spiegel and fourteen ensuing pages in 1958 to the Qumrum texts discovered nearly a decade before. In marked contrast to most religious reporting from earlier in the 1950s, this Roman Catholic made no attempt to show how modern society could corroborate stories from the Bible. With characteristic lack of humility, he put his magazine forward instead as a new agent of enlightenment, claiming sensationally that there were no historically verifiable truths about Jesus. But Hannig also brings to light a less familiar side to the Spiegel editor who had become infamous in religious circles. Augstein appears here as a defender of religious orthodoxy. His reputation as a provocateur notwithstanding, Augstein openly criticized the “modern theology” of the Protestant theologian, Dorothee Sölle. He granted access to the pages of Spiegel to the Protestant theologian Walter Künneth, who argued that Christian parishes needed to draw their sustenance not from the hypotheses of theologians but from the “bread of the bible.”

Augstein’s pronouncements deftly illustrate a larger theme of this book: the manner in which media giants sought to determine the essential quality of religion—what functions it should serve and the balance between transcendence and immanence in religious teachings. For Augstein as well as for many critical intellectuals of the late 1950s and 1960s, the churches had made the mistake of extending their grasp into virtually every domain of modern life, including charity and politics. As Augstein put it in a lecture, “How I imagine Christians,” delivered before two thousand largely Protestant academics, “the churches push themselves into charity, for whose purposes they ask for ever greater sums of money from the state, into the Kindergartens, in the senior citizens’ homes and in welfare … They found academies, city missions, pay attention to what is going on in radio and television, warn about drunkenness at the steering wheel and about excessive celebration at Carnival” (348). In so doing, they had not only misused their newly gained power but had overlooked their transcendental mission of saving souls for the hereafter. The irony here should be apparent: Augstein’s assessment dovetailed with those of conservative Christians opposed to the worldly focus of religious progressives determined to reconcile religion with modernity through heightened political activism and campaigns for social justice.

Vast sections of this book spell out the manner in which the media exhumed topics in a manner often unpleasant to church leaders. Journalists had much to say about “clericalization,” “confessionalism,” confessional schools and sexuality. They criticized, they challenged and they broke taboos. Naked bodies became a regular feature of the illustrated news magazines by the 1970s. Even more instrumental was the media’s role in bringing to light the Roman Catholic church’s past during the Nazi era. Hannig argues that it was less the controversy over Rolf Hochhuth’s play, The Deputy, that marked a decisive caesura than subsequent lesser-known controversies about the tainted backgrounds of Karl Fürst zu Löwenstein, a central figure in the Zentralkomittee der Deutschen Katholiken, and Matthias Defregger, an Auxillary Bishop in the archdiocese of Munich who had been present as a Captain in the Wehrmacht at a massacre of Italian hostages in June, 1944. Once the Defregger scandal unfolded in 1969, it was clear that probing publications like Spiegel, whose own research on the topic had been voluminous, had sought to leave the moral legitimacy of the Roman Catholic Church in shreds.

Even as comprehensive a work as this could not delve into every aspect of the relationship between the German churches and the media over such a broad swath of time. Left out of this work—and left open for future researchers—are additional dimensions to the church-media relationship. In focusing on radio, television and the weekly illustrated magazines, all weighty subjects in their own right, Hannig tended, with some exceptions, to exclude the daily newspapers and wire services from his focus. Also absent, except for a few cursory pages, is the role of the Roman Catholic and Protestant media: the diocesan newspapers, the religious magazines and above all, the Katholische Nachrichtenagentur (KNA), a Catholic news service that served as a significant historical actor and interacted with the secular media in a complex and often combative manner. Each of these topics, however, could warrant its own scholarly monograph, and Hannig rightly made the decision to keep his focus limited to the secular media.

It is rare for a dissertation not only to display such scholarly command and to retain a remarkable even-handedness on charged terrain. Hannig’s book is also eminently readable, even in spite of its indebtedness to media theory and the ideas of Pierre Bourdieu. On the occasions that he lapses into jargon, he does so deliberately and almost apologetically. Through the soundness of its research and its scholarly breadth, this impressive book will easily go down as one of the most important and weighty new works in German religious history of the last decade.

 

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Review Article: The Missionary Impulse of the Early Twentieth Century

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Review Article: The Missionary Impulse of the Early Twentieth Century

Johanna M. Selles, The World Student Christian Federation 1895-1925. Motives, Methods and Influential Women, (Eugene, Oreg.: Pickwick Publications, 2011), xviii + 294 Pp., ISBN 978-1-60899-508-0.

Brian Stanley, The World Missionary Conference, Edinburgh 1910. Studies in the History of Christian Missions (Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans, 2009), xxii + 352 Pp., ISBN 978-0-8028-6360-7.

By John S. Conway, University of British Columbia

The second half of the nineteenth century saw a remarkable surge of Christian energies, fervour and organisational developments, especially in the Protestant churches of Europe and North America. This sprang from, or was at least parallel to, the momentous spread of technical and scientific achievements, which formed the basis for the political, economic and imperialist expansions of those years. At the same time, the rapid and world-wide spread of travel opportunities and the increase in living standards and disposable wealth allowed for a wider discovery and knowledge of distant lands hitherto unknown or only occasionally visited. The resulting optimistic climate of opinion led in many Protestant churches to a confident pursuit of expansion, particularly in the field of overseas missions. The biblical precept to spread the gospel to the ends of the earth was now framed in the popular slogan: “the Evangelisation of the World in this Generation.” In the 1880s and 1890s this goal seemed to many Protestants to be entirely achievable, and an unprecedented number of eager young Christians resolved to devote their lives to this noble purpose. To later observers, this over-confident belief in the superiority of Christianity and in the capacity of these missionaries to bring its message to “lesser breeds without the law” now seems recklessly misconceived. But at its apogee, a hundred years ago, this hope that a new age of gospel triumphs was dawning was widely shared even by sober and experienced ecclesiastical leaders. It was the religious equivalent to the same kind of ambitious expectations, which, in the political sphere, in the same period, had justified the expansion of their colonial rule by the leaders of the western European nations and of the United States, to cover so much of the surface of the globe.

These two books under review each touch on specific aspects of this momentous endeavour. Johanna Selles draws attention to the contributions made by women, which she feels have been neglected in the earlier ecclesiastical histories written by churchmen. But women played a significant part in this mission work, both at home and abroad. They were recruited from the growing number of participants in women’s higher education, who were no longer limited to a future of domesticity. Many of the universities and colleges where they had been trained were Christian foundations where education and piety were closely associated. So they eagerly joined missionary societies, or societies to promote temperance or other social reforms. Voluntary service with a church-related organisation was a socially approved activity for women. At the same time, since they were blocked by their gender from seeking ordination, such service provided an outlet for their undoubted idealism, especially for many younger women.

Selles concentrates her attention on one of these groups, the World Student Christian Federation, founded in 1895, which was in fact the first international student group of its kind, seeking to build a stage for Christian internationalism through the witness of national members and societies. It sprang from the initiative and enthusiasm for expanded Christian evangelism, especially in the Protestant colleges and universities in North America and Britain, but extending also to Scandinavia and Germany. Loosely formed as a federation, because of the widely differing religious traditions, national backgrounds and languages, the WSCF provided an international framework for the holding of conferences and campaigns, many of which focussed on recruitment for missionary service overseas.

In its first thirty years, the WSCF was led, as its General Secretary, by the well-known American evangelist John R. Mott, who was also a leading figure in the international YMCA, and, as we shall see, became the best-known champion of international evangelisation. But he was supported loyally and effectively by numerous women assistants. Selles gives us a valuable account of these women’s contributions, particularly of Mott’s closest associate, the British graduate Ruth Rouse. She proved to be both competent and highly impressive, and ably seconded Mott’s campaigns, especially appealing to women students on campuses around the world. But, as some later commentators noted, she could not be called an ardent feminist.

Mott’s recruiting style was unique. He travelled the world almost incessantly in great style. Arriving at a university city, he would stay in the best hotel and arrange for the student audience to be assembled in the largest hall or church. His appeal to the students to join in the task of the evangelisation of the world ended in an inspiring altar call. Those who responded were invited to come for an interview in Mott’s hotel on the next day. As one of them told me, if Mott was suitably impressed by the candidate’s sincerity and qualifications, he would end the interview by saying: “The Lord has need of your services in Prague (or other destination). Here is your ticket”.

Ruth Rouse came to be the essential connecting link between the workers in the field and the policy makers at home. As more and more Christian student organisations sprang up on the local level, so the coordination of their efforts became a vital prerequisite for success. She shared the vision of Christian internationalism and ecumenism, coupled with the passion for social reform and confidence in women’s capabilities which were hallmarks of the WSCF’s witness. The WSCF’s principal activities lay in organising international conferences, providing speakers to work with local units, and issuing publications which linked such groups to the others. All were imbued with a strong missionary emphasis, which in turn was not free from the assumptions of Christian cultural superiority.

To begin with, the WSCF’s emphasis was on personal evangelism and individual conversion. But, from the turn of the century, increasing attention was given to wider social and international issues, following the new theology of the social gospel. And after the First World War, which shattered so many illusions and expectations, a much more critical tone was heard especially from the younger members. Selles’ account finishes with the end of Mott’s long term of office, after a new generation demanded a different and less triumphalistic approach.

In retrospect, the World Missionary Conference, held in Edinburgh in 1910, can be seen as the high point of Mott’s career. At the age of forty-five, he had already served for fifteen years with the WSCF and even longer had held leadership positions in the World’s Alliance of YMCAs. He had travelled the world to all sorts of missionary outposts, and had gained the support of numerous wealthy American business magnates who gave him unprecedented amounts for his various good causes. He had early on been convinced that the time was ripe for the Christian message to be spread around the world, taking advantage of all the means provided by modern discoveries. Indeed the urgency of this cause was his continuing and vital concern. But two major obstacles existed. One was the lack of recruits. Hence Mott’s incessant campaigns, particularly among students in North American and western European universities. The other major handicap came from denominational rivalries and conflicts. By the turn of the century, Mott and other leaders in the missionary movement were convinced that their great task of evangelising the world could only be realised if all the churches collaborated, or at least overcame their frequently-displayed hostility towards each other. Doctrinal rivalries derived from centuries-old theological disputes could not be allowed to stand in the way of saving the unconverted. If the churches recognised their opportunity to collaborate, then the triumph of the gospel world-wide could be effectively achieved. As Mott said, “This is a decisive time for Christian missions.” It was also a time of exalted ambitions and confident expectations for the expansion and victory of the Christian missionary endeavour.

Brian Stanley’s scholarly and valuable account of the Edinburgh Conference begins by correcting a widely-held interpretation, namely that it was the beginning point of the ecumenical movement which grew so notably among the churches in the twentieth century. But Stanley rightly wants to place the emphasis on the missionary endeavours which the Conference fostered and recorded. In fact this was a decidedly Protestant and broadly evangelical gathering, along with a few High Church Anglicans, but no representatives from either the Catholic or Orthodox persuasions. The delegates were chosen from Protestant missionary societies rather than from the churches or denominations, with a preponderant attendance by Britons and North Americans. Only eighteen delegates were from Asia. A lone indigenous black delegate from Ghana represented Africa. All were however conscious that they were participating in an event which proposed to reshape the course of the world’s Christian history.

This over-confident optimism believed that the non-Christian world, especially in Asia, stood on the brink of a progressive transformation. The movement for reform and modernisation led by Christian elites would result from the ideological and financial power of western Christendom. This expectation was only heightened by the belief that the window of opportunity might not last. The necessity of action was all the more urgent. Stanley’s account vividly captures the mood of confident hope that such action could and would now begin to be taken.

Stanley’s description of the preparations and conduct of the Conference is both excellent and detailed. He pays deserved tribute to the organising skills of the youthful Scottish missions secretary, Joe Oldham, as well as to the charismatic leadership provided by Mott as Chairman. From the beginning they had decided that this was not to be an inspirational jamboree for missions enthusiasts, but a serious working conference by appointed experts. Eight high-level Commissions were appointed two years in advance which were to take soundings across the world’s mission fields and to report back on the most effective ways of promoting these missionary endeavours. But discussions on doctrinal questions were to be excluded. In the event, the Commissions’ questionnaires and subsequent replies formed the Conference’s most valuable contributions, which provide graphic evidence of the writers’ assumptions and expectations. The statistical surveys and the atlas of missions are particularly interesting. These reports can still be read with benefit.

Stanley’s account of the Conference itself is both precise and percipient. Most usefully, he gives names and dates for most of the prominent participants both in the Conference and in its preparatory Commissions. Drawing on these vast records, now deposited in libraries in Britain and the United States, he steers us through the thickets of ecclesiastical politics and theological controversies which arose before and during the Conference. The final achievement, he believes, was largely due to the skilful diplomacy and leadership of both Mott and Oldham, who formed a most effective trans-Atlantic team. His successfully evokes the atmosphere which captivated the one thousand men and two hundred women, most of them gray-haired but eager mission society or church leaders, drawn from all over the world. They became united in what proved to be ten days of mind-broadening excitement and devotional stimulation.

Stanley rightly pays attention to some of the Conference members’ critical views, such as those of the young Indian pastor who pleaded with the delegates to abandon their imperialistic attitudes, especially in their social relations with their converts. “You have given your goods to feed the poor. You have given your bodies to be burned. We also ask for love. Give us FRIENDS!” Stanley also gives the evidence that, although the principles of the Three Self-Movement for Missions (self-governing, self-supporting, self-propagating) had been accepted, in practice, in the field, such precepts were rarely followed. Many missionaries were fluent in justifying their reluctance to implement them.

Furthermore, Stanley does not overlook some of the Conference’s short-comings, such as the exaggerated expectations indulged in by some delegates, or the frequently expressed view that all other religions were precursors to, and would find their fulfilment, in Christianity. Particularly in the Conference’s Commission Four, dealing with “The Christian Message to non-Christian Religions,” the view was taken that all religious phenomena could be placed somewhere along a scale of progression, at the apex of which was of course Christianity. Stanley is rightly sceptical of this kind of progressive evolutionism. On the other hand, he is also critical of the arrogant assumptions held particularly by some Evangelicals who presumed that their version of Christianity with all its western cultural baggage was the only true one and should be thrust upon lesser races, who were expected to be eternally grateful. Such cultural and racial myopia was not uncommon even among those with extensive missionary experience. The planting of new Christian communities in all parts of the globe was of course the pre-eminent goal shared by all the delegates. But, predictably, the Conference deliberations did not challenge the existing situation in which the foreign missionaries exercised overall dominance, especially through their theological and financial controls. Or at best, they looked forward to a distant date when the indigenous churches would be able to stand on their own feet.

The triumphs of Christian internationalism which so many of the delegates predicted did not last long. The outbreak of the European war in 1914 destroyed the myth of Europe’s spiritual superiority. The slaughter of the trenches removed many of the generation of leaders who were to have carried the message of Edinburgh around the world. Instead the ideologies of nationalism and revolution quickly outmatched the discredited Christian creeds. The evangelisation of the world did not happen in that generation, nor in the expected manner. The claims of the Christian gospel had to be presented henceforward in a much humbler tone.

Subsequently, as the missionary movement’s impetus faded away, the legacy changed. As noted above, Edinburgh came to be reinterpreted, even by some of the leading participants such as Mott and Oldham, as the founding conference for Christian ecumenism. But the original assumptions of the missionary movement had had to be abandoned. The Edinburgh delegates had in fact displayed very little awareness of the new racial, political and theological issues which were to dominate the twentieth century, and radically to change the course of Christian history. But Stanley’s scholarly tribute to the devotion and piety of this earlier generation of missionaries serves to remind us that such gatherings as Edinburgh can leave an ambiguous legacy. It also should lead us to engage in deeper theological reflection on the Christian missionary task in the world of today.

 

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Book Comment: Ecumenical, Academic, and Pastoral Work: 1931-1932. Volume 11 of the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Book Comment: Ecumenical, Academic, and Pastoral Work: 1931-1932. Volume 11 of the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, publication forthcoming in 2012).

By Victoria Barnett, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

While the Bonhoeffer Works series is primarily a portrait of the biographical and theological path of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in many places it also offers a uniquely detailed historical portrait of his church, political, and ecumenical context. This is particularly true of the forthcoming volume 11 of the series, which documents Bonhoeffer’s entry into the ecumenical world in the final years of the Weimar Republic. The volume offers some rare insights into the debates about nationalism and the emerging völkisch movements that were taking place in 1931 and 1932 within German Protestantism and in the European ecumenical movement. In many respects, this volume traces the beginnings of the fault lines that would soon place Protestants in Germany on opposing sides of the Kirchenkampf.

Like his ecumenical colleagues during the 1920s, Bonhoeffer was searching for the common ground that would unify “the church among churches.” But for Bonhoeffer, this common ground could exist only among churches that remained true to the confessions and the Word. This led him, at a very early stage, to criticize the notion of a national or any ideologically constrained church. As early as Sanctorum Commmunio (published in 1930), he warned that, “There is a moment when the church dare not continue to be a national church. . .”[1] This put him on an early collision course with German theologians such as Emanuel Hirsch, who in 1925 was already opposing German participation in the ecumenical movement. Hirsch’s position reflected the political isolationism of a German still angry about Versailles, but it was also based on the conviction that, as Robert Ericksen paraphrases it, “the ideal boundaries of a church should correspond to those of a Volk.”[2]

During the 1920s, then, opposing concepts of church were already evident in Germany, based in part upon contradictory views of the church’s role in a national culture. These issues began to dominate the ecumenical debates of the late 1920s and early 1930s, with both sides seizing ecumenism as a possible vehicle to further their cause. As Swiss ecumenical leader Adolf Keller noted in 1936, the interwar ecumenical movement found itself opposing a “rival, hostile, secular ecumenism” that sought not common religious ground, but rather the establishment of churches along the divisive boundaries of race and nationalism.[3]

In Germany, the Deutsche Christen were not alone in arguing for church recognition of those boundaries; even more mainstream Protestant leaders (including some who would join the Confessing Church) welcomed a new national destiny for Germany and saw this as part of some divine plan. The particular danger for the church came from within: from theologians and pastors who believed that religion and the new ideologies could be merged, as Gerhard Kittel contended when he supported Nazism as “a völkisch renewal movement on a Christian, moral foundation.”[4]

Thus, even before 1933, the lines of demarcation and the cast of characters who would soon play leading roles in the German church struggle had been established.[5] And this is where DBWE 11 begins: in the summer of 1931, after Bonhoeffer’s return from his year at Union Theological Seminary in New York. Before beginning his time as a lecturer in Berlin, Bonhoeffer traveled to Bonn where he met Karl Barth for the first time, attended the World Alliance conference in Cambridge and was appointed one of the three ecumenical “youth secretaries.” In the year that followed he attended ecumenical gatherings in Czechoslovakia, Geneva, and Gland, Switzerland, and he became an active participant in German ecumenical discussions.

One of the striking things about these ecumenical gatherings is the number of Germans in attendance who subsequently became prominent Deutsche Christen or openly embraced a nationalistic theology: in addition to Paul Althaus and Emanuel Hirsch, Hermann Sasse, Reinhold Krause (who delivered the infamous Sportpalast speech in November 1933), Friedrich Peter, Adolf Schlatter, Georg Wobbermin, Theodor Heckel, Hans Schoenfeld, August Schreiber, Fritz Söhlman, Wilhelm Stählin, and Erich Stange all make appearances in DBWE 11. In particular, the minutes and documents from the ecumenical meetings in this volume offer a detailed picture of the debates among the Germans. At the April, 1932, Berlin conference of the German Mittelstelle for ecumenical youth work in Berlin, Bonhoeffer disagreed with practically everyone present, including Theodor Heckel, who as bishop in charge of the church’s foreign office subsequently tried to block foreign recognition of the Confessing Church (and who after Bonhoeffer’s return from London denounced him to authorities as an “enemy of the state”).

This is a meeting where Friedrich Peter (later the Deutsche Christen bishop of Magdeburg) spoke of the need for the “völkisch self- preservation” of the church, and Bonhoeffer openly criticized the racialized language that had found its way into German theology, most specifically the concept of a divine order of creation that stressed the “separation and differences of peoples, their characteristics and fate.” Here Bonhoeffer scholars can find the political context of Bonhoeffer’s opposition to the fixed order of creation (Schöpfungsordnung) being promoted by the nationalist theologians, and read his highly political articulation of the “order of preservation” (Erhaltungsordnung) that he promoted to counter the nationalists.

The volume also documents Bonhoeffer’s relationship to those at the opposite end of the spectrum, particularly the individuals who were working in the early 1930s with Friedrich Siegmund-Schultze in his social ministry in eastern Berlin: Franz Hildebrandt, Richard Jordan, Renate Lepsius, Gertrud Staewen, and Hermann Maas. The rich details of the ecumenical documents and correspondence in this volume give a clear portrayal of the theological and political fault lines within German Protestantism on the eve of Nazism, before the real madness began.

 


[1]. Bonhoeffer, The Communion of the Saints (New York: Harper and Row, 1963), 189.

[2]. Robert Ericksen, Theologians Under Hitler (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985) p. 142.

[3]. Keller, Adolf. Church and State on the European Continent. (London: The Epworth Press, 1936), p. 361.

[4]. Ericksen, p. 35.

[5]. See Glenthoj, 131ff, and Marikje Smid, Deutscher Protestantismus und Judentum 1932/1933 (Munich: Kaiser Verlag, 1990).

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Article Note: New Research on Churches in Postwar Germany

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Article Note: New Research on Churches in Postwar Germany

Francis Graham-Dixon, “A ‘Moral Mandate’ for Occupation: The British Churches and Voluntary Organizations in North-Western Germany, 1945-1949,” German History 28, no.2 (2010): 193-213.

Ian Connor, “The Protestant Churches and German Refugees and Expellees in the Western Zones of Germany after 1945,” Debatte: Journal of Contemporary Central and Eastern Europe 15, no.1 (April 2007): 43-63.

By Steven Schroeder, University of the Fraser Valley

The extraordinary transformation of Germany after 1945 from Nazism to peaceful integration into international systems continues to draw considerable interest, as scholars attempt to render clarity to the complexities of postwar reconstruction. By looking at the various motives and actions of British government representatives, churchmen, and relief workers in Germany—and the interplay between them—Graham-Dixon’s study of the British zone sheds new light on the nature of occupation, and aspects of reconstruction, in this part of Germany.

The author argues that Britons agreed, in general, about their ‘moral mandate’ in Germany after the Second World War. However, some believed that the mandate “embodied a moral, Christian purpose,” whereas others wished to merely “exploit its use for propagandistic purposes” (193). Regardless of motive, the moral campaign proved useful for all British activities in Germany, especially when British policies and actions proved questionable, or even immoral. Focusing on the humanitarian crisis of the 1945-1946 population transfers (which was particularly acute in Schleswig-Holstein), Graham-Dixon asserts that it was church leaders and voluntary organization personnel (e.g., Bishop Bell of Chichester, Victor Gollancz) who ensured maintenance of the moral component in British policy, devoid of the exploitative component. Rather than resenting this action, British policy makers (e.g., Anthony Eden, Ernest Bevin)—who were generally less optimistic than churchmen about German rehabilitation—made good use of church leaders and relief workers in forging peaceful relations with a generally disgruntled German public, and in “validat[ing] … the worthiness of the British cause” (201).

The fusing of these two viewpoints became evident in 1947, when British troubles were at a peak. Some British church leaders (e.g., British Anglican Church head, Geoffrey Fischer) and some politicians (e.g., Lord Pakenham), openly tied the work of the Church and the Crown. Most politicians disavowed the connection and relied on voluntary organizations to work directly in aiding, and rehabilitating, the German people. Voluntary organizations (e.g., Save Europe Now!) labored in concert with German church organizations (e.g., Hilfswerk, Innere Mission, Caritas) to fulfill the occupiers’ goal of solving the humanitarian crisis in Germany. The British government hoped that this work would embed “higher spiritual and moral values within German society,” (208) and foster general goodwill. With demonstrable success in material aid and improved relations between Britons and the German people, these organizations filled the “policy vacuum,” and fulfilled the moral mandate claimed by the British government.

This is an important article that exposes new aspects of British occupation politics. It also reveals the significance that voluntary organizations can (and did) have in post-conflict stabilization. In this case, the British government exploited the goodwill of voluntary organization personnel by having them alleviate the humanitarian crisis it had helped create. In the end, good things came of their combined efforts regardless of motive and despite the misallocation of credit. One wonders how these elements of occupation appeared in the other zones, and about their long-term impact in Germany, and in British-German relations.

Ian Connor is well-known for his 2008 book Refugees and Expellees in Post-War Germany, in which he describes how the millions of displaced persons in occupied Germany posed numerous challenges to German reconstruction after 1945. This article is an offshoot of that larger project. It examines how some leading German Protestant churchmen and relief personnel feared that ethnic German expellees would stray from mainstream Protestantism to embrace Communism or Catholicism. Playing an “active role in the reconstruction of Germany” (44) by employing their “wide-ranging autonomy” (43), Protestant Church elites prevented, in a few cases, the escalation of political radicalism, even while operating on some misguided assumptions.

Connor argues that the central concern of Protestant elites (i.e., some pastors, but mainly key figures in Protestant relief work) was “the political and ideological implications of the refugee problem” (60). Protestant churchmen viewed the expellees as not only physically, but spiritually, dislodged and impoverished. Protestant churchmen founded the Hilfswerk of the Protestant Church in August, 1945 to assist the expellees, and to keep them from turning to political and religious alternatives. The idea was that the material aid and spiritual support of the organization would keep the expellees on the right track by providing them with stability and hope for a brighter future.

The Hilfswerk provided shelter, food, and clothing for expellees primarily in the western zones, while its eastern office operated under the wary surveillance of Soviet authorities. Indeed, fused into its material aid campaign was the Hilfswerk’s political agenda of expunging Soviet influence in the political unification of Germany. Whereas Protestant churchmen were overly concerned about the refugees embracing Communism (few voted for the KPD), they “ignored or failed to recognize the refugees’ undoubted susceptibility to the slogans of radical right-wing parties” (60). With questions lingering about the ideological and political foundation and motives of the Hilfswerk, the author offers an example of the organization’s success. When Trek Association leaders threatened to lead thousands of expellees on marches to less crowded areas within western Germany, Hilfswerk personnel intervened. Negotiations between the two organizations averted what one Protestant aid leader called, “a terrible catastrophe” (57).

Study of the immediate postwar period reveals widespread concern over political radicalism in western Germany. For example, the formation of the Catholic Kirchliche Hilfstelle in October 1945 stemmed, in part, from concerns about Catholic expellees turning to political extremism. Questions arise regarding German attitudes and agency under occupation, particularly concerning the establishment of the Federal Republic (and the GDR). Connor argues that relief organizations, like the Hilfswerk, played an important role in German reconstruction by fostering peaceful relationships. Still, the political agenda of the Hilfswerk, and other relief organizations, remains unclear. So does the broader implications of their work. Laudably, the author has contributed a significant component of an under-researched portion of the postwar development of Germany, and has opened doors for further examination of the role of relief organizations and other NGOs in the construction of the two Germanies.

 

 

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Article Note: Edward Mathieu, “Public Protestantism and Mission in Germany’s Thuringian States, 1871-1914”

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Article Note: Edward Mathieu, “Public Protestantism and Mission in Germany’s Thuringian States, 1871-1914,” Church History 79 no. 1 (March 2010): 115-143.

By Heath A. Spencer, Seattle University

In this article, Edward Mathieu examines the religious and social activism of Thuringia’s bourgeois Protestants. His conclusions are not earthshaking, but his focus on a particular region allows him to qualify some of the conventional wisdom on topics such as secularization and the interplay of theology, class, and politics.

Mathieu challenges the notion that religion was simply retreating from the public sphere by the end of the nineteenth century. In fact, Thuringia’s voluntary Protestant associations were on the rise even as church attendance declined. Rather than fading out, Protestant religiosity was taking on new forms. Mathieu also counters the argument that Lutherans were driven by their theology to leave social problems to the state and limit the church’s role to an exclusive focus on the inner, spiritual life. Rather, Thuringian Protestants demonstrated a high level of social and civic engagement. On the flip side, “secular” press organs such as the Weimarische Zeitung and associations like the Meiningen District Education Association openly expressed an interest in religious and moral questions, and one cannot help but note the “religious tone of bourgeois public discourse” (125). Finally, Mathieu points out that there was considerable overlap in membership across Protestant associations that—at least on the national level—seemed to represent different political, theological, and social-cultural milieus (for example, the Protestant League and the more “conservative” Home Mission).

Throughout the article, Mathieu’s coverage of Protestant discourse is often more descriptive than analytical. However, he does note that Thuringia’s Protestants assumed a close correspondence between Protestant Christianity and German-ness, that liberal ideology and Protestant theology drew inspiration from one another, and that Protestant and bourgeois values (duty, hard work, respect for authority, objectivity, tolerance, intellectual freedom) were often indistinguishable from one another. Like their counterparts throughout the rest of Germany, bourgeois Protestants defined themselves against Catholics on the one hand and proletarians on the other. They found it hard to imagine working-class people as anything other than socialists, delinquents, and a threat to public order—antithetical to Christianity as they imagined it. Mathieu also points to some interesting parallels between Home Mission rhetoric oriented toward working-class Germans and foreign mission pronouncements regarding “savages” in overseas colonies.

Mathieu reminds us that the story of German Protestantism during the Kaiserreich cannot be reduced to a conservative/liberal binary, nor can German religious history be reduced to a simple story of secularization and declining church attendance. Thuringia’s liberal Protestants were involved in the “conservative” Home Mission, public school teachers were affiliated with Protestant missionary societies, bourgeois associations working with delinquent youth tried to place them in “proper” Christian homes, and Protestant liberals and conservatives were members of many of the same associations and united in their opposition to Catholics and socialists.

 

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Article Note: Marcus Tomalin, “Exploring Nineteenth-Century Haida Translations of the New Testament”

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Article Note: Marcus Tomalin, “Exploring Nineteenth-Century Haida Translations of the New Testament,” Journal of Religious History 35 no. 1 (March 2011): 43-71.

By John S. Conway, University of British Columbia

It is interesting to find an article about a Canadian missionary experience, written by an English scholar, and appearing in an Australian journal. Dr. Tomalin, a Fellow of Downing College, Cambridge, gives us a detailed account of the translations by Church Missionary Society (CMS) missionaries sent out in the nineteenth century to the Haida Gwai, (formerly known as the Queen Charlotte Islands), a collection of islands off the coast of north-western British Columbia. Early contacts with white traders and settlers had brought diseases which rapidly reduced the Haida population. But the missionaries believed the language was still vibrant enough and that the New Testament and various Offices of the Book of Common Prayer should be translated for daily use. By the end of the century however, the Haida communities themselves wanted to learn English, so these translations have largely been forgotten. Study of the Haida language was largely left up to secular ethno-linguists. Tomalin’s detailed examination of these texts explores the difficulties and complexities involved in such trans-cultural transfers. Their authors’ efforts were clearly prodigious and thus form an integral part of the story of the Anglican Church’s establishment in western Canada.

 

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Program and Conference Report: Mennonite Studies at the University of the Fraser Valley

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Program and Conference Report: Mennonite Studies at the University of the Fraser Valley, British Columbia, Canada

By Steven Schroeder, University of the Fraser Valley

The Fraser Valley, nestled between Vancouver and the coastal mountains of British Columbia, is home to a diverse population of which Mennonites comprise roughly 20 percent. Wishing to reflect the regional population in its academic curriculum, the University of the Fraser Valley (UFV), in cooperation with the local Mennonite community, has launched a program in Mennonite Studies. January 2011 marked the implementation date for the Mennonite Studies Certificate. Currently, the University is working toward the establishment of a Centre, and a Chair, in Mennonite Studies.

To raise awareness for the program, the University launched a speakers series in Mennonite Studies in fall 2010. Two events took place in Abbotsford, on the main campus of UFV. The first, entitled “Perceptions,” took place on October 19, 2010. A panel of Royden Loewen, Chair of Mennonite Studies at the University of Winnipeg, Marlene Epp, Associate Professor of History at Conrad Grebel University College, and Bruce Guenther, Associate Professor of Church History and Mennonite Studies at Trinity Western University addressed the question: what constitutes Mennonite Studies? In various ways, all three panelists responded by tackling the thorny, but central, question of Mennonite identity. Loewen identified seven categories of Mennonites, all of which related in some way to how the individual situates him/herself vis-à-vis the Mennonite faith tradition and Mennonite ethnicity. Riding above this taxonomy was Loewen’s notion that: “if you say you are a [Mennonite], you are one,” which underscored the diversity of the Mennonite community, and study of it. Epp agreed with Loewen’s assertion of Mennonite diversity, and focused her talk on aspects of Mennonite ethnicity. Referring to her own work, Epp posited that studying Mennonite culinary practices is a useful way to understand Mennonite ethnicity, particularly as food and cookbooks have been used to preserve Mennonite traditions amidst acculturation. Finally, Guenther addressed Mennonite diversity and identity differently, asserting that Mennonite ethnicity, like all ethnicities, is dynamic. In his view, academics building Mennonite Studies programs must broaden their scope beyond focus on the Dutch-German roots of the Anabaptist movement to reflect the diverse worldwide Mennonite community—including its many ethnicities—and to foster dialogue with non-Mennonites.

The second event, held on November 23, 2010, centered on the theme “Reflections,” and the question: what is the reciprocal relationship between Mennonite writing and Mennonite culture? Responding to this question were Andreas Schroeder, Rogers Communications Chair in Creative Writing at the University of British Columbia, Hildi Froese Tiessen, Professor of English at Conrad Grebel University College, and Rudy Wiebe, Professor Emeritus at the University of Alberta. Schroeder provided an historical overview of Mennonite literature from the inauguration of its “golden age,” with the advent of Rudy Wiebe’s work in the 1960s, to the present. Therein, he revealed how Mennonite writers—most of whom are not affiliated with, or interested in promoting, the Mennonite faith community—have, for decades, represented the Mennonite community to the outside world. Tiessen agreed, but blurred Schroeder’s demarcation locus by pointing out that this “outsider’s group” also included people who were members of Mennonite churches, and that negative stereotypes of Mennonite writers are inaccurate. Pointing to the “insider’s knowledge” of the writers, she stressed the positive contributions that they have made to understanding Mennonite life—including its many ethnic sub-groups—both inside, and beyond, the Mennonite community. Finally, Wiebe offered an historical narrative that complimented Schroeder’s and stressed Tiessen’s focus on the positive. Wiebe pointed out that the “the origins of Anabaptism is rooted in anything but fundamentalist, conservative, rural, uneducated people,” and that Mennonites owe their very existence to the scholarly acumen of people like Felix Manz, Conrad Grebel, and Menno Simons. Over the centuries, Mennonites worked as artisans and architects throughout Europe, often shaping the local landscape and culture. Moreover, Mennonite communities had songwriters and poets who commemorated Mennonite experiences and crafted the Mennonite heritage. All three panelists encouraged the University to promote the Mennonite literary tradition, which contributes significantly to Mennonite, and Canadian, culture.

These events provided useful information and engendered important discussion at a timely juncture, as UFV administrators and faculty move forward the Mennonite Studies program. During the question period after each event, the panelists offered specific recommendations for the new program, all of which were well-received. A third event in the speakers series, with the theme “Engagement,” will take place at UFV’s Abbotsford campus in fall 2011.

Please visit the following websites for additional information:

For details on the event to be held at UFV in fall, 2011:

http://www.ufv.ca/MarCom/newsroom.htm

For details about the Mennonite Studies Certificate at UFV: http://www.ufv.ca/arts/Arts_Programs/Certificates/Mennonite_Studies.htm

 

 

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Conference Announcement: Celebrating the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition

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ACCH Quarterly Vol. 17, No. 3, September 2011

Conference Announcement: Celebrating the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition, November 13-15, 2011, Union Theological Seminary, New York.

By Victoria J. Barnett

Plans are well under way for the upcoming conference celebrating the completion of the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition. Organized by the International Bonhoeffer Society, “Bonhoeffer for the Coming Generations” will take place at Union Seminary in New York, where Bonhoeffer came to study and teach in 1931 and 1939. The conference program is as follows:

Sunday | November 13

11:00 a.m. Optional Worship at Abyssinian Baptist Church

3:00 p.m. Check-in at Union Theological Seminary

8:00 p.m. Keynote Address “Bonhoeffer: Theologian, Activist, Educator. Challenges for the Church of the Coming Generations” | Sam Wells, Duke University

Monday | November 14

Bonhoeffer, Ethics, Public Life 1945-2010

“Inspiration, Controversy, Legacy. The Response to Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Three Germanys” | Wolfgang Huber, Germany

Panel: Bonhoeffer in International Contexts | John de Gruchy, South Africa; Keith Clements,

United Kingdom; Larry Rasmussen, USA; Carlos Caldas, Brazil; Kazuaki Yamasaki, Japan

Emerging Issues, New Research 2011-

“Bonhoeffer’s Strong Christology and Religious Pluralism” | Christiane Tietz, Mainz

Panel: New Research, New Issues | Florian Schmitz, Mainz; Reggie Williams, Pasadena; Brigitte Kahl, Union Theological Seminary

Tuesday | November 15

Translation and the Interpretation of History and Theology

“Translating Bonhoeffer. Intercultural Theological Challenge” | Hans Pfeifer, Düsseldorf

Translators Panel: Bonhoeffer in Translation: Challenges and Discoveries | moderated

by Victoria Barnett, USA

Historians Panel: History and Theology in Bonhoeffer Interpretation | moderated

by Andrew Chandler, Chichester

Theologians Panel: Reading Bonhoeffer the Theologian | Michael DeJonge and Clifford Green

Concluding Banquet

A banquet celebrating all the translators, editors, publishers, financial supporters and volunteers of the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works English Edition will mark the conclusion of the conference on Tuesday evening.

For more information about the conference, as well as the registration form, please go to http://dietrichbonhoeffer.org/BonhoefferConf.brochure_Feb.2011.pdf.

 

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