Tag Archives: Kyle Jantzen

Review of Ralf Retter, Zwischen Protest und Propaganda: Die Zeitschrift “Junge Kirche“ im Dritten Reich

ACCH Quarterly Vol. 16, No. 4, December 2010

Review of Ralf Retter, Zwischen Protest und Propaganda: Die Zeitschrift “Junge Kirche“ im Dritten Reich (Munich: Allitera Verlag, 2009), 387 pp.  ISBN: 978-3-86906-066-8.

By Kyle Jantzen, Ambrose University College

Ralf Retter’s study of the Protestent journal Junge Kirche questions common historical assumptions about its role in the church politics of Nazi Germany. His detailed study of the periodical, which ran from 1933 to 1941, arises out of his doctoral dissertation at the Technische Universität Berlin. Drawing not only on his analysis of the publishing activity of Junge Kirche but also on the previously unpublished correspondence among those responsible for the journal, Retter tackles three discrete topics: the history of the German press in the Third Reich, the German Church Struggle, and the German Resistance. His main question is whether Junge Kirche was really just the mouthpiece of the Confessing Church and an organ of the church resistance to Nazism, as has been argued in the past. Like many other recent studies of the German churches under Hitler, his answers complicate our understanding of the relationship between Christianity and Nazism.

Junge Kirche was the leading Confessing Church journal in the Nazi era. More than that, it was one of the few supra-regional Protestant periodicals to survive in Hitler’s Germany, and was the Protestant periodical most likely to be read within Germany and circulated abroad. But how, asks Retter, did it function in the highly regulated press environment of the Third Reich? Clearly, it was oriented towards questions of theology, faith, and the proclamation of the gospel, avoiding subjects that spilled over outside the church and touching on state policy. However, given the anti-clericalism of the Nazi state and Junge Kirche’s insistence on the independence of the church to preach and teach according to Scripture, the journal found itself positioned against National Socialism (11). The key leaders who tried to steer the journal through the church politics of the Third Reich were Hanns Lilje, Fritz Söhlmann, and Günther Ruprecht, of whom only the first is fairly well known.

One of the challenging aspects of publishing during the Nazi era was censorship. Retter wonders how frequently and to what extent Junge Kirche suffered at the hands at censors, but also what role self-censorship played in the editorial process and (more controversially) to what extent those responsible for the journal might have identified with aspects of National Socialist ideology and rule. This raises the deeper question of whether Junge Kirche was really engaged in resistance against Nazism at all and, if so, whether its activities should be considered opposition (Widerstand) or merely non-conformity (Resistenz). Was it, Retter wonders, a force for the stabilization or destabilization of the regime (17)? In answering these questions, he devotes a good deal of attention to the argument that the journal was engaged in Resistenz between 1933 and 1936 (127), as it opposed the German Christian takeover of the church governments and supported the Barmen Confession, opposed both the introduction of the Aryan Paragraph in the churches and the abandonment of the Old Testament (188), affirmed the traditional historical narratives defending the long-standing presence of Christianity in Germany, supported the emergent ecumenical movement, and even criticized Nazi interference in the realm of the church (208). Still, Retter is careful to point out that this Resistenz took place in a context of traditional German-national sentiment.

By 1936, however, as the Confessing Church split and the pro-Nazi Fritz Söhlmann assumed the sole editorship of Junge Kirche, the journal lost most of its character as a centre for Resistenz. In rejecting the Dahlemite branch of the Confessing Church, Junge Kirche found itself caught up in internecine struggles and little able to engage in any significant opposition to the German Christian Movement. Siding with traditional Lutherans who were unwilling to break completely from the German regional church governments and the Reich Church authorities, Junge Kirche ceased functioning as a mouthpiece for the Confessing Church, argues Retter. By 1939, the pro-Nazi tendencies in the journal which had been present even from the beginning were given more or less free reign (particularly after Lilje, who had taken a more critical line towards the regime, was ousted from his editorial post). The self-censorship of publisher Ruprecht and editor Söhlmann kept the names of leading Nazis from appearing in the journal’s pages. And when Junge Kirche combined the embrace of Hitler’s war aims with its mission to foster piety and provide spiritual encouragement for Germans caught up in the Second World War, it grew into a stabilizing presence in the Third Reich—quite the opposite of a force for resistance.

For Retter, the fate of Junge Kirche mirrored that of the Protestant churches as a whole. Like the churches, it was reduced to the role of preaching the Word. Like the churches, its defence of the Reformation Confessions was interpreted by the state as political disloyalty and opposition. And like the churches, it had to work to clarify its relationship with the state. By choosing to support the “intact” Lutheran regional churches of Württemberg, Bavaria, and Hanover, Junge Kirche chose for cooperation with the National Socialist regime—a stance that opened the door for it to function as a propaganda arm of the state. Thus it was that the early period of protest gave way (in the language of the book’s title) to propaganda—active support for the Nazi regime and its conduct of war—a transition which was more self-induced than censor-driven (365). Indeed, the propaganda effect of Junge Kirche was especially profound, argues Retter, since it was a confessional publication and not a Nazi Party periodical. Its readers might well have assumed that Nazism was quite acceptable to the Christian churches of Germany.

All of this raises interesting questions pertaining to the relationship between Christianity and Nazism, highlighting once more the conflicting messages and understandings of the religious situation among German Protestants (and perhaps among Nazis, too). Concerns over Nazi anticlericalism and warnings about the movement becoming a political religion are mixed with Confessing Church support for aspects of Nazi antisemitism and the foreign policy of Lebensraum as well as calls to preach and promote piety in a particularly German cultural manner consistent with the conservative nationalism that marked the Protestant churches. In highlighting the presence of these inconsistencies and hypocrisies within the publishing arm of the Confessing Church, Retter contributes to our understanding of Christianity and Nazism as both partners and rivals attempting to win the hearts and minds of Christians in the Third Reich.

 

 

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Conference Report: 40th Annual Scholars’ Conference on the Holocaust and the Churches

ACCH Quarterly Vol. 15, No. 2, June 2010

Conference Report: 40th Annual Scholars’ Conference on the Holocaust and the Churches, March 6-8, 2010, St. Joseph’s University, Philadelphia, PA.

By Suzanne Brown-Fleming, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

Plenary Session: “Three Institutional Responses to the Early Persecution of the Jews and to Kristallnacht: The Canadian churches, the Vatican, and the Federal Council of Churches in the United States.”

This plenary session, organized by the Committee on Church Relations and the Holocaust of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, featured three presentations. The first, by Victoria J. Barnett, Staff Director of Church Relations in the Museum’s Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies, was titled, “Seeking a United Voice: The Federal Council of Churches (FCC) and the Kirchenkampf, 1933-1938.” Barnett argued that some of the most activist early responses, both to the German Kirchenkampf and the Nazi measures against the Jews, came from the Protestant ecumenical Federal Council of Churches in New York. FCC officials worked with Jewish organizations in the United States, visited Germany and issued public statements, and in particular pressed their German colleagues to condemn the Nazi anti-Jewish measures. As the Kirchenkampf progressed, however, the FCC position shifted to a more neutral tone.  Her comments focused particularly on the reasons why the FCC reactions changed and the way in which FCC officials helped shape the U. S.reaction to Kristallnacht.

Barnett’s presentation was followed by Suzanne Brown-Fleming, Director of Visiting Scholar Programs in the Museum’s Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies. Brown-Fleming’s paper, “The View from Rome: The Vatican’s Response to Reichskristallnacht,” contextualized the decision by the Holy See to decline an open condemnation of the 1938 Kristallnacht pogrom, despite receiving full reports about this landmark event. While many U.S. religious groups responded swiftly and sharply, Brown-Fleming offered, in contrast, insight into the concerns and preoccupations that shaped the Holy See’s muted response to Kristallnacht.

The final paper, by Kyle Jantzen, Associate Professor of History at Ambrose University College, Calgary, Alberta, Canada and Jonathan Durance, Graduate Student, University of Calgary, was entitled “‘Our Jewish Brethren’: Christian Responses to Kristallnacht in Canadian Mass Media.” Jantzen and Durance examined the early responses of Christian clergy and lay people in the Canadian Protestant churches to Kristallnacht through an analysis of newspaper coverage from across the nation in November and December, 1938. In contrast to the “silence” often attributed to Canadian churches, they presented evidence that many Canadian Christian clergy and lay people engaged in principled protests against Nazi brutality and made energetic calls for government action to alleviate the growing refugee crisis in Germany by allowing Jews into Canada.

The session was lively and well-attended, with many questions raised (perhaps inevitably) concerning the record of Eugenio Pacelli (Pope Pius XII) during the Third Reich. While (also perhaps inevitably), no definitive conclusions could be reached on the topic, the discussion pointed to the need for more research not only on the role of the Roman Catholic Church, but also on the Protestant Churches worldwide during the Nazi era.

 

 

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November 2009 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

November 2009 — Vol. XV, no. 11

 Dear Friends,

In this month of anniversaries, we recall not only the twenty years since the Berlin Wall fell, but also the earlier German revolution of 1918, and the horrific Chrystal Night pogrom of 1938. These events are constitutive of kirchliche Zeitgeschichte, so I hope the following reviews will be of help in coming to terms with these legacies.

I will be glad to hear from any of you with your comments, But please remember to send them to my personal address, as below, and not to press the REPLY button unless you want all our subscribers to hear your opinions.

1) Conference Report: German Studies Association, 2009

2) Book reviews

a) Ruotsila, Christian anti-internationalism
b) Vos, Pryfogle, George, Faith in the World. Mark Gibbs and Vesper Society
c) P. Raina ed., Bishop George Bell
d) Jekeli. German Intellectuals in Romania under Communism
e) Leichsenring, Die katholische Kirche und “ihre Juden”

3) Book notes: Lazarus, In the shadow of Vichy. The Finaly Affair

1) Conference Report:

At the recent German Studies Association conference in Washington, D.C. (October 8-11, 2009), several members of the Association of Contemporary Church History participated in a panel entitled, “Protestant Theological Responses to Race and Religion in Nazi Germany.” Moderated by Robert P. Ericksen (Pacific Lutheran University), three papers explored various aspects of Protestant theology and practice: Kyle Jantzen (Ambrose University College), “Blood and Race or Sin and Salvation: Parish Pastors Debate Rosenberg’s Mythus”; Christopher Probst (Howard Community College), “Protestant Scholarship, Luther, and ‘the Jews’ in Nazi Germany”; and Matthew Hockenos, “Converting Jews in the Third Reich: Antisemitism and the Berlin Judenmission, 1930-1950.” Richard Steigmann-Gall (Kent State University) provided a commentary on the papers.

Jantzen’s paper explored the reactions of parish clergy in three regions of Germany (Brandenburg, Saxony, and Württemberg) to the ideological challenge posed by racial theorist Alfred Rosenberg’s famous work, Myth of the Twentieth Century (Der Mythus des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts). Protestant clergy often found it hard to discern Rosenberg’s significance within the Nazi Party or the important of the Mythus officially, Rosenberg’s book represented his own private opinions, while at other times party officials hailed his views as intellectual treasures central to Nazi racial ideology. A few parish pastors (generally from the radical Thüringian wing of the German Christian Movement) took Rosenberg seriously and proclaimed the truth of his racial ideology. Most clergy who encountered his work rejected it as heretical. While they often acknowledged Rosenberg as an expert on race and were frequently obsessed with defining the proper relationship between the German Volk and the Christian Church, they generally rejected Rosenberg’s denial of the transcendence of God, the sinfulness of humanity, and the validity of the Old and New Testaments. Where Rosenberg championed Jesus as a heroic Aryan fighter, Protestant clergy affirmed Jesus as the Son of God (and a Jew) who defeated sin and death by suffering and dying on a cross. Jantzen concluded that Rosenberg functioned as a line in the theological sand whose work caused all but the most extreme German Christians to reaffirm important aspects of traditional Protestant orthodoxy. He also noted that the widespread criticism of Rosenberg’s ideas might suggest that he was not as important a figure as some scholars have asserted.

Probst’s paper analyzed the interpretation of Martin Luther’s writings on the Jews by Heinrich Bornkamm, Protestant professor of church history in Gießen, Leipzig, and (after the war) Heidelberg. Probst argued that Bornkamm viewed Jews through a prism of Volk and race that drew upon his background in historical theology. Seeking to address the tumultuous events unfolding in Germany, Bornkamm forwarded his own version of Luther’s nonrational argumentation about Judaism, harnessing Luther’s powerful irrational antisemitic rhetoric in tacit support of antisemitic Nazi policy.

After noting Bornkamm’s pro-Nazi and antisemitic sentiments in 1935, he commented on the “Jewish press” which had formerly controlled the forces of “left liberalism,” while in 1939, he wrote about the “powerful and undeniable truth of racial-thinking” and of a religiously inspired Bolshevism led by stateless Jews Probst examined his short 1933 work, “Volk and Race in Martin Luther.” According to Bornkamm, Luther must have known “something” of the “biological and historical unity of a State” and had “at least a notion” of the “biological basic elements in the structure of mankind” which overlap borders of State and Volk, “which we call races.” Thus Bornkamm espoused an interpretation of Luther’s Judenschriften that closely paralleled Nazi conceptions of Volk and race. Paradoxically, then, even as Bornkamm affirmed Luther’s struggle with Jews to be a spiritual effort the goal of which was conversion, the twentieth-century church historian continually conflated religious and racial antipathy towards Jews as he interacted with the writings of the sixteenth-century reformer.

Hockenos’s paper examined the history of the German Protestant Church’s Berlin-based “Society for the Promotion of Christianity among the Jews” (Gesellschaft zur Beförderung des Christentums unter den Juden), commonly refered to as the Berlin Jewish Mission, during the Nazi era and the immediate postwar years. Exploring how the men and women who staffed the Berlin Jewish Mission understood the “Jewish question,” Hockenos asked whether the missionaries’ earnest desire to convert Jews to Christianity put them at odds with antisemitic racial theories or whether missionaries incorporated Nazi racial theories into their missionary worldview?

Surprisingly, the Berlin Jewish Mission remained open through much of the Third Reich, baptizing 704 Jews between 1933 and 1940 in its Messiah Chapel in the German capital (Hockenos estimates that about 3500 Jews converted to Christianity under the influence of the German Jewish missions) until the Mission was shut down by the Gestapo in January 1941. Many Protestants rejected the work of the Berlin Jewish Mission German Christians, who were openly antisemitic, ridiculed the idea that Jews might convert to Christianity for genuinely spiritual reasons, assuming Jewish conversions were politically motivated. Even members of the Confession Church, however, considered the presence of Jews in the Christian community as problematic because they brought with them undesirable “Jewish traits.” The few Protestants who did support the Berlin Jewish Mission believed that if the church approached Jews in the spirit of brotherly love and shared with them Christ’s message of love and forgiveness, the “Jewish problem” could be solved through conversion. Although missionaries identified Jews as a race with certain negative characteristics, they believed that converted Jews, whose faith was genuine, were cleansed, purified, reborn and transformed by the sacrament of baptism, thereby receiving a grace which overcame their race.

The internal conflicts of this position could be seen already in a 1932 article by the president and the director of the Berlin Jewish Mission, Hans Kessler and Edwin Albert. As they wrote, “There is no such thing as a German gospel or a German Christ. The gospel is the gospel for all people, regardless of race. The gospel has the power to transform men of all races, even the Jews. When one no longer believes this and believes only in race . . . they can longer call themselves a Christian.” People who think this way, they went on, reject Jesus and “come into opposition with God, just as the Jews once did.” Continuing in this minor key, Kessler and Albert railed against the spirit of Jewry, insisting that it needed to be overcome a task which could only be accomplished by the Holy Spirit (and not the German spirit). As such, the two men argued that the Jewish Mission stood at the forefront of the struggle of the German people against modern Jewry. At the close of his paper, Hockenos used the term “missionary antisemitism” to describe these complicated and at times contradictory theological responses.

Richard Steigmann-Gall’s commentary brought into focus the central idea common to all three papers, namely, that Protestants in the Third Reich adopted a wide range of perspectives on race and religion, mixing aspects of Nazi antisemitism and racial salvation with either religious or racial antipathy to Jews and a confessional theology which was just as likely to affirm the Jewish origins of Christianity, the Jewishness of Jesus, and the transformative effects of conversion, regardless of race. Various members of the audience also posed questions, making for a lively and fruitful discussion.

K.Jantzen, Calgary

2a) Markku Ruotsila, The origins of Christian anti-internationalism. Conservative Evangelicals and the League of Nations. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press 2008. 240 Pp. ISBN 978-1-58901-191-5.

Despite its somewhat cumbrous title, Markku Ruotsila’s study is both topical and relevant to present concerns. His insightful analysis of a significant section of American Protestantism stresses the continuity of this group’s strongly-held views about America’s destiny and in particular its conduct of foreign policy. He traces the origins of attitudes which dominated and still dominate the mentality of the Protestant minority, commonly called “the Religious Right”, and shows how their views were formulated in the crises of a century ago, particularly in their strident opposition to the policies advocated by the Democratic Party’s President Woodrow Wilson.

This opposition was based on certain key presuppositions. First and foremost, conservative Evangelicals held that traditional orthodox Christianity was the sole source of truth and hence their guide to public policy. Cooperation between Christians and non-Christians compromised their beliefs, and was therefore unacceptable. Any international organization, such as the proposed League of Nations, even if supposedly devoted to peace, was bound to fail because of the unprincipled and dubious association with non-Christian states such as Japan and China. For such Protestants, it was the supreme virtue of the United States that it had a divinely-appointed call to witness to and defend the true faith.

This belief in the special destiny of the United States and its accepted calling to witness to Christ came of course from the first Puritan settlers. By the end of the nineteenth century, this Protestant tradition had hardened into a theological and political conservatism, evidenced by both a literal reading of the bible, and the promotion of Victorian family values and morality. At the beginning of the new century, its champions were already engaged in a bitter struggle against the forces of modernization, secularism and indifferentism. They took especial aim at the advocates of theological liberalism, whose ideas seemed to be based on the heresies of German biblical criticism. They particularly attacked the idea that Christian salvation could be brought nearer by schemes of collective or reformist improvement. They never shared the optimistic assumptions of humanistic betterment so widely adopted by the supporters of the Social Gospel movement of the times. So too conservative Evangelicals deplored the perceived weakening of America’s cherished spiritual values. They opposed many of the changes from an essentially rural to a much more morally ambiguous urban and industrialized society. Contrary to the views championed by progressive politicians, such as President Wilson, they were not inclined to give in to the temptation of moving with the times.

America’s participation in the first world war only intensified this confrontation. Both for personal and political reasons, President Wilson laid great stress on the moral reasons behind the war effort in 1917. No less altruistic was the propaganda put out on behalf of his peace plans in 1918, including his proposals for a League of Nations to ensure “perpetual peace”. Indeed Wilson and his supporters fully believed that the opportunity beckoned to apply the principles of Christianity on a cosmic scale, led of course by the reformist and “progressive” enthusiasts who were Wilson’s most ardent backers in the churches.

It used to be said that “The League of Nations enjoyed the support of all organized religion; and for those who had no religion, it formed an adequate substitute”. Ruotsila;s careful research disputes at least the first half of this adage as far as American Protestantism goes. He scrupulously analyses the various segments of American anti-internationalist Protestantism, and describes the theological bases of their utterances. Basically all of them shared a common rejection of the immanentist theology of the Social Gospel, with its confident belief in human self-sufficiency and the beneficial effect of collective improvements though institutional measures. These conservative Evangelicals were, by contrast, firmly convinced of human sinfulness, and their utter dependence on God for everything, including politics. They totally rejected the kinds of anthropocentric assumptions which underlay the reformers’ ideas for the rectification of world evils by political means.

Ruotsila’s contribution is to show how prevalent the religious arguments were in the heated debates over the ratification of the League’s Covenant. He argues rightly that these have not been given their due weight in most secular histories, either of the League or of twentieth century America. And he shows how widespread and well mobilized were the utterances of those who used their conservative theologies to combat not merely the League of Nations, but all other aspects of modernization and secularization. His evaluation of the various positions adopted by the dispensationalists, hard-line Baptists, conservative Lutherans and Presbyterians, and even a few isolated Episcopalians and Methodists, is excellently nuanced. Each produced their own variant on a similar theme. Generic Christian anti-internationalism was a sub-theme of anti-modernism. The League of Nations offered an unacceptable mixture of unwelcome features: a multinational co-operation with non-Christians; the creation of a dangerous supranational authority; the vision of an impossible goal of human betterment. This would be an apostate deviation from America’s true calling. The fundamental belief that the United States was and is a uniquely Christian nation with a special role to play in the world was already deeply rooted in such circles a hundred years ago. Its recurrence and indeed fulfilment in George W. Bush’s unilateral war in Iraq shows how strongly these conservative Evangelicals’ ideas continue to be played out, even after the League of Nations has long since disappeared.

Interestingly enough, Markku Ruotsila is an adjunct professor of American church history at the University of Helsinki. Is there any comparable position in any American University devoted to Finnish church history?

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2b) N.Vos, D.Pryfogle and M George, Faith in the world. Mark Gibbs and Vesper Society, Being God’s Lively People. San Francisco: Vesper Society Imprint 2009. 129 Pp. ISBN 1441479201, <http://www.vesper.org/>http://www.vesper.org

This short but vivid tribute to Mark Gibbs and the Vesper Society records a remarkable trans-Atlantic partnership which encouraged the laity of the churches to take their faith into the world of their everyday lives in new and stimulating ways. Mark Gibbs was an Anglican layman, living in a wind-swept cottage on the north Yorkshire moors, who teamed up with a group of American businessmen mainly from the San Francisco area, seeking to enlarge the horizons of church members, and to see the wider implications for their faith in the world. Too often, it seemed, the clergy had called on the laity to support church-related projects and institutions, but had not equipped them to witness in their secular occupations. Since the laity comprised 99% of church members, and the clergy only 1%, there was an obvious disproportion in the amounts spent on Christian education for the non-professional members in the church pews.. For twenty years from the middle 1960s, Mark Gibbs and the Vesper Society saw it as their mission to mobilize the laity through a series of educational programmes, which pulled together leading Christian laymen to expand their witness and make it relevant to their day-to-day occupations. They paid special attention to the ethical principles which should apply in all walks of life, and sought to overcome the barriers and limitations of too narrow an emphasis on personal salvation in the pious church circles. Rather Christian witness had to apply to all spheres of life, and lay men and women were the ones to make this happen. Mark Gibbs had a special flair for arousing such concerns, not only comforting the afflicted but afflicting the comfortable. For many years he became a roving ambassador for lay renewal, writing, teaching, stimulating, inspiring and sometimes irritating to achieve his ends. In America, the Vesper Society provided the resources to organise seminars, retreats and conferences where the message for lay renewal could be heard. Together they made a significant impact.

Interestingly, the project was largely derived from Germany. After the Second World War, the German Evangelical Church developed two major initiatives designed as reparations for the churches’ disastrous failure to resist the evils of the previous Nazi regime. The first of these was the creation of a series of Evangelical Academies, of which Bad Boll, near Stuttgart was – and is – the most famous. These professionally-staffed institutions provided a large-scale and year-round programme of seminars and short courses, some of them residential, which were a form of continuing Christian education, ranging over a wide number of topics, and using debates and discussions on controversial and topical subjects to draw out the Christian implications. Over the years, the result has been to build up a large corps of informed and critical lay opinion.
No less significant were the biennial Kirchentage or Church Rallies, held in major cities, usually for a week in June, which brought – and still bring – together many thousands of people, including foreigners, in stimulating debates and discussions. Organized and led by lay people, these rallies do much to offset the often sombre and unexciting life in the local Protestant parishes. They also provide an opportunity for all church-related organizations in the social, political and mission fields, to broadcast their messages in a vital and net-working fashion.

These were the models Mark Gibbs brought to America where he found receptive audiences. His belief that the renewal of the church depended on lay people acting beyond the church walls and taking up their ministries in daily life, proved popular and attractive. He helped to overcome the laity’s isolation and to equip them for their everyday vocations. It was also a call for prophetic witness for social justice and peace, particularly during the height of the Vietnam War, and hence ran parallel to the efforts promoted by such bodies as the World Council of Churches, and the emphasis stemming from the Second Vatican Council. Gibbs found new ways to inspire his audiences to be faithful followers of Christ in the secular worlds where they lived. For the layman, he believed, was the essential interpreter of the Christian message in the battlefield of the world, and must be properly equipped for such a task. At a time of turbulent political events and challenges, this reflective Christian witness was most helpful.

Mark Gibbs’ understanding of the church was always inclusive and ecumenical, and sought to overcome the limitations of private piety and individualistic attitudes in social morality. Such a purely private faith, he believed, was as dangerous as a fanatically political creed, and both needed the world-restoring allegiance of the gospel of God.

Unfortunately Gibbs died in 1986, and without his energy and drive the cause languished, especially in England. But in many ways his ideal has flourished with the rapid expansion of lay-led voluntary agencies, ministering and witnessing all over the world. With the obvious decline of clergy-based influence, the laity is now taking a much more active role. But we still need men of Mark Gibbs’ calibre to maintain the enthusiasm and direction of God’s lively people as they live out their faith in the world.
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2c) Peter Raina ed. , Bishop George Bell. House of Lords Speeches and Correspondence with Rudolf Hess. Oxford, Berne etc: Peter Lang. 2009. 226 Pp.

Last year marked the fiftieth anniversary of the death of George Bell, Bishop of Chichester from 1929 to 1958. Tributes to his memory have already appeared in this Newsletter, viz a report on the Memorial Conference held in Chichester (September 2008)) and a full account of the papers given at that conference (April 2009). But we can happily add to these a short note about the edition of Bell’s speeches in the House of Lords and his correspondence with the Nazi leader Rudolf Hess, prepared by one of Bell’s devoted admirers, Peter Raina. We can certainly be grateful that he has researched into the massive archive Bell left behind to dig out the texts of his speeches given in the House of Lords during his twenty-one years as a member of the bench of bishops, as well as the remarkable but wholly ineffective exchange of letters between Bell and Hitler’s Deputy, Hess, from1935 to 1938. (Hess’ German texts are also printed). These materials can only reinforce the impression that Bell was a courageous, outspoken, singular and persistent voice of conscience in those most difficult years for Christian witness. He believed, however, that he had the duty to speak out for the Church on matters of public concern. The House of Lords offered him a public platform, even if his fellow peers were rarely in agreement. Nor were most of his fellow bishops. But Bell was not to be deterred by opportunistic considerations, as was most notable in the famous speech he made in February 1944 denouncing as inhumane the British policy of indiscriminate bombing of German cities, which is reproduced here in full. His protest was based on two main thoughts: first, that the war should be prosecuted in ways which would uphold the ideals for which it was being fought, and secondly, that such destructive bombing made no distinction between the supporters of Nazism in Germany and the numerous opponents of the regime who, Bell believed.would one day rise up and overthrow the monstrous tyranny imposed by Hitler. This was a belief he had long held. Indeed Bell’s whole career had been deeply affected by what he considered was the mistake, even the crime, of the Versailles Peace Treaty, which had so insulted Germany and thereby led to the rise of the Nazi dictatorship. He campaigned long and hard against the vindictive anti-German attitudes held by many leading Britons, and pleaded for the cause of peace and reconciliation throughout the 1920s and 1930s. His leadership in the international ecumenical movement of the mainly Protestant churches had given him many contacts in the European churches as well as in pacifist circles. So he was naturally outraged by the vicious measures adopted by the radical Nazis especially against the Jews. He personally organized numerous relief efforts on their behalf, and rescued a number of Protestant clergymen by providing them with asylum in England. His concern for refugees and his desire to raise awareness (and funds) for their situation was clearly reflected in his pre-1939 speeches, as was his indignation at their treatment as enemy aliens after war broke out. By the end of the war, Bell was looking at the wider horizons and seeking new patterns for post-war reconstruction and reconciliation, as well as renewal though a recommitment to Christianity. These are the themes which are reflected in his speeches, all well and succinctly thought out, penetrating in his resolve not to let the issues be overwhelmed by pragmatic or political considerations, and consistent in his witness to Christian values. Bell sought to make this witness relevant to all aspects of life, and therefore was bold to offer his opinions on a wide range of topics, some of which he could only know at second-hand.

In 1936 Bell took the opportunity of one of his periodic visits to Germany to obtain an interview with Hitler’s Deputy, Rudolf Hess. Bell was undoubtedly influenced by the idea that a personal contact with top German leaders could ensure that they were made aware of the criticisms of the Nazi treatment of the German churches, and would take measures to remedy the repressive actions of their underlings. Thus he told Hess bluntly that church circles abroad were apprehensive of those “prominent leaders of the party who have far more radical opinions and favour a far more radical policy to the whole Church question”. In 1937 he tried to use the same channel to express his concern about specific Confessing Church victims of Nazi repression, and asked for the modification of the measures taken against them. His intervention on behalf of Pastor Martin Niemoeller shortly after his arrest in July 1937,however, earned him a brusque reply for his audacity in pleading on behalf of a clergyman whose “attacks and slanders against the State and its Head have reached such dimensions that the State has been forced to set the law against Pastor Niemoeller” Furthermore, Hess’ letter retaliated by asking how Bell would like it if the British Government’s policies were attacked by Germans on behalf of an unrestrained Irish clergyman. This missive concluded with the peremptory statement: ”90 per cent of the German people did not bestow their confidence on their Government, so that afterwards this Government should tolerate a situation in which a few misguided persons should threaten the internal peace and the basis for the security of the nation as well as its Christian religion”. Undeterred Bell tried again a year later to ask for an alleviation of Niemoeller’s prison terms. He received no reply.

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2d) E.P.Jikeli, Siebenbürgisch-sächsische Pfarrer, Lehrer und Journalisten in der Zeit der kommunistischen Diktatur (1944-1971) [European University Studies, Series III, History and Allied Studies, Vol. 1044.] (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang. 2007. Pp. 321. $86.95. ISBN 978-3-631-56769-2.)

(This review appeared first in the Catholic Historical Review, October 2009, and is here reprinted by kind permission of the author)

Erwin Peter Jikeli’s study of ethnic German intellectuals in Romania during the first half of the communist era opens a discussion of questions familiar to historians of modern Germany but newer to scholars of communist Eastern Europe. To what extent was the ruling ideology in this case, Romanian communism imported from abroad or imposed from above? Was it only endured by the populace, or did certain elements in society welcome it from below? To what extent were intellectuals in this case, pastors, teachers, and journalists committed democrats engaged in resistance against their regime while making superficial public compromises? Or were they willing collaborators out of ideological conviction or for professional gain?

In this published version of his doctoral dissertation from Heinrich-Heine-Universität Düsseldorf, Jikeli (who was raised and educated in Romania) explores the vocational history of ethnic German intellectuals from the Siebenbürgen (“Seven Fortresses”) region of Romania, where Saxons first settled in the twelfth century as defenders of Transylvania. Jikeli employs a social-scientific approach, applying biographical techniques to understand the pastors, teachers, and journalists he analyzes. Indeed, one of the unique features of Jikeli’s study is his attempt to survey 259 former members of the three professions (many had emigrated to Germany proper before and after 1989). Unfortunately, only 91 (just over a third) responded at all and only 52 (barely one-fifth) filled out his long, probing questionnaires, the others “presumably afflicted by a moral dilemma or fear of the truth” (p. 7). These limitations aside, Jikeli is to be commended for his wide use of primary sources, including diaries, biographies, letters, chronicles, newspapers and publications, and all manner of official correspondence and personnel records (some of which, he notes, contained lies meant to discredit the intellectuals during the communist era).

Following a methodological introduction and four chapters of historical and socio-political background, Jikeli probes the attitudes and actions of his subjects during the first half of the Romanian communist era from the installation of the single-party system under Soviet military pressure to the intense Stalinism of the 1950s to the relaxation and adoption of independent foreign, economic, and cultural policies in the early years of Nicolai Cea escu’s reign in three main chapters. The year 1971, when the Romanian dictator implemented a harsher domestic policy (and when the thirty-year freeze on archival records began to affect his study), marks the end point of Jikeli’s research. Two subsequent chapters assess the issues of party membership and contact with Securitate, or Romanian secret service.

Jikeli’s goal is to understand the extent to which these Saxon pastors, teachers, and journalists maintained some critical distance from the regime and attempted to represent the interests of their minority group. What he discovers is that all three groups of intellectuals suffered under policies which attempted to draw professionals from the “healthy” social categories of workers and farmers and which suppressed minority populations (primarily Hungarians) in favour of Romanianization. German Protestant pastors (mainly Lutheran since the Reformation) in Transylvania found themselves under great suspicion since they were only indirectly under the control of the state and since they stood by definition in opposition to the atheism of the communist party. For that reason, pastors were monitored and recruited intensely by the Securitate. German teachers were pressured to join the communist party, not least because of their important role as transmitters of the state’s materialist and assimilationist educational program. Journalists were required to be party members and worked under editors-in-chief who were party appointees charged to direct the propaganda program of the press.

Jikeli argues that all three groups of German intellectuals found ways to subvert or evade some of the burden of their association with the communist system (his few survey respondents were quick to provide these kinds of stories) and to bolster siebenbürgisch-sächsisch identity. But given the important position held by Romanian professionals and particularly by these natural leaders in the minority population, there can be little doubt that they must have made significant accommodations with the Romanian party-state. Due to the lack of survey respondents and the absence of relevant secret service files, however, Jikeli concludes that we will never likely know the full extent of such collaboration among the ethnic German intellectuals of Romania.

Kyle Jantzen, Calgary, Alberta, Canada

2e) Jana Leichsenring, Die katholische Kirche un “ihre Juden”. Das “Hilfswerk beim Bischoeflichen Ordinariat Berlin” 1938-1948. Berlin: Metropol Verlg. 2007 349 Pp. ISBN 978-3-938690-58-1

This thoroughly researched dissertation for Berlin’s Technical University tells the story of the Catholic agency belatedly established in 1938 to assist those Catholics of Jewish ancestry as they faced persecution and deportation by the Nazis. (Ms Leichsenring’s footnotes are exemplarily exhaustive!) But the meat of the thesis concerns the often reluctant measures, taken with inadequate means by the Catholic authorities, to help these unfortunate members of their flock, and includes a number of heart-wrenching stories of their fate. Leichsenring estimates that there were approximately 45,000 Catholics labelled by the Nazis as “Jews” or “Mischlinge”. Many resided in Berlin, so that it was natural that the office to help them should be placed under the auspices of the Berlin Bishop, Konrad von Preysing. At first, efforts had been made to assist such Catholics to emigrate through the St Raphael’s Verein, but the Gestapo placed increasing restrictions on this program, and in 1941 ordered the society to be dissolved. In any case, in October 1941 no further emigration of Jews was allowed. (The same decree put an end to the Protestant Church’s similar efforts, along with the arrest of its principal organiser, Pastor Heinrich Gruber). But the Catholic Hilfswerk continued, under the direction of resolute and resourceful leadership of Margarete Sommer, whose valiant endeavours deserve to be better known. Since emigration was no longer possible, Sommer had to concentrate on personal assistance on the spot. Her imaginative and thorough efforts to give whatever assistance to her individual contacts was possible are here fully recorded and praised But she also wanted to mobilize the whole church to protest against the injustices and terrorization which her charges were undergoing. To this end she prepared a number of reports, from February 1941, especially on the effects of deportation, and the drastic living conditions in the ghettos in the east where these individuals had been sent. A year later she reported on what she had learnt about the so-called Wannsee Conference, which led her to the conviction that the Jews were to be murdered en masse, and that the same treatment was to be given to those Catholics in mixed marriages and their children. Bishop Preysing then forwarded these reports to his superior Cardinal Bertram in Breslau. In fact Sommer also personally went to see Bertram, but was not believed. Her plea for a strong public denunciation by the whole Catholic hierarchy of the Nazis’ misdeeds was turned down The Cardinal refused to act on such unverified information, and limited himself to written protests to specific Reich ministers and bureaucrats about the Nazi plan to dissolve Church-blessed mixed marriages. When Sommer went to visit him for one last time in April 1944, he refused to see her, and ordered Preysing to keep her under control. Leichsenring thus adds to the already established evidence that the Catholic response to the persecution of the Jews was far too limited, and was given, even by Sommer herself, only to practising Catholics. The conclusion has to be reached that, while it is untrue to say that nothing was done, far greater efforts could have been made if the Catholic bishops had been more determined to take up arms against the regime. But having given their allegiance in 1933, and afraid for the consequences if the Reich Concordat was to be revoked, and in the circumstances of total war, none of the bishops were prepared to act publicly on behalf of the Jews, who had been so denounced in every piece of Nazi propaganda. The record of the Hilfswerk, whose papers Leichsenring has so competently researched, is therefore one of frustration and very limited success.

JSC

3) Book notes: J.B.Lazarus, In the shadow of Vichy. The Finaly Affair, New York: Peter Lang, 2008. ISBN 978­4331-0212-7
In the immediate post-Holocaust years, Catholic-Jewish relations in France were deeply perturbed by the controversial issue of the future fate of Jewish children whose parents had been murdered by the Nazis and who had been given refugee by Catholics in convents and schools. After the end of hostilities, these care-givers were not surprisingly reluctant to part from these charges. But the Jewish community organisations went to great efforts to reclaim the children and sought to place them with Jewish relatives, or in Jewish communal institutions, or even to let them take part in an early aliyah to Palestine. The most notorious case, where one French Catholic care-giver sought to thwart these claims, came in the dispute over two small boys, the Finaly brothers. This Catholic true believer refused to deliver the boys to their aunts in New Zealand and Israel, had them secretly baptised as Catholics and even eventually had them smuggled out of France to Spain. She also successfully mobilized the Catholic community to her side using arguments derived from the Dreyfus affair of fifty years earlier. The anti-Semitic overtones were explicit. Fortunately, as the author makes clear, there were other Catholic clerics appalled by this bigotry. Finally a settlement was reached and the boys were returned to their relatives. But the polarization of French opinion was only healed when more eirenic views prevailed, as was seen in the declarations on relations with Judaism at the Second Vatican Council. JSC

With every best wish
John Conway

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June 2008 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

June 2008— Vol. XIV, no. 6

 

Dear Colleagues,

John Conway is on vacation this month. He has asked me to edit the
Newsletter in his absence, which I am pleased to do. Below you will
find a brief note on the death of Bishop Krister Stendhal by John and
two reviews by me on Lutherans and the Church Struggle. Should you have
any comments please feel free to e-mail me at mhockeno@skidmore.edu.

Best Wishes,

Matthew Hockenos
History Department
Skidmore College

Contents:

1) Bishop Krister Stendhal

2) Book reviews

a) Kyle Jantzen, Faith and Fatherland: Parish Politics in Hitler’s
Germany
 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008).

b) Lowell C. Green, Lutherans Against Hitler: The Untold Story (Saint
Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2007).

1) Death of Bishop Krister Stendhal (1921-2008)

John Conway writes: It is with sadness that we learn of the death of
Bishop Krister Stendhal, a renowned church leader in both his native
Sweden and the United States. I first met Krister in 1954 in Uppsala
when he was defending his doctoral thesis on “The School of St.
Matthew”, which demonstrated already his early interest in the Jewish
roots of the Christian gospels. Some years later he emigrated to the
United States, and taught at Harvard, where he rose to become a notable
Dean of the Divinity School. While at Harvard, Stendhal developed his
scholarly interests in Pauline theology, and wrote the landmark essay
“The Apostle Paul and the introspective conscience of the west” which
became a chapter in his book Paul among Jews and Gentiles. At
Harvard, it was natural that Stendhal gave a lead to numerous circles
concerned with Christian-Jewish relations, and also served as the
Director of the Centre for Religious Pluralism at the Shalom Hartman
Institute in Jerusalem. In 1984 he was called back to Sweden to become
the Bishop of Stockholm where he served for five years until retirement.
His distinguished leadership there followed in the footsteps of such
fine Swedish churchmen as Archbishops Soederblom and Brilioth, and gave
valuable help to many in calling for a new ecumenical approach and
commitment to Christian-Jewish dialogue.

2a) Kyle Jantzen, Faith and Fatherland: Parish Politics in Hitler’s
Germany
 (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008).

Kyle Jantzen’s Faith and Fatherland: Parish Politics in Hitler’s Germany
is a superb contribution to the historiography of the Church Struggle.
Through a detailed examination of three Lutheran church districts
Jantzen provides readers with fascinating glimpses of the Church
Struggle from the perspective of parish clergy, local church patrons,
and district superintendents. This “bottom up” approach allows Jantzen
to examine how familiar events in the Church Struggle at the national
level, such as the formation of the Pastors Emergency League and the
establishment of Hans Kerrl’s church committees, were experienced by
regional and local church authorities. Faith and Fatherland is a most
welcome addition to a field dominated by national studies that focus on
leading figures in the Confessing Church or the German Christian
Movement. “Entering into the daily world of German Protestants,” Jantzen
rightly contends, “illuminates many gradations within the
church-political spectrum, as well as the inconsistencies with which
pastors and parishioners thought and acted, shifting their positions and
living in ways that defy our subsequent attempts to pigeonhole them into
neat theological or church-political categories” (13).

While many of the same issues that dominated the Church Struggle on the
national level filtered down to the parish level, such as whether to
recognize German Christian authorities in the “destroyed” churches, the
responses to these issues were incredibly varied from district to
district and parish to parish. Moreover, the Church Struggle at the
parish level often took on characteristics quite unique from the
struggles on the national level – the struggle over pastoral
appointments being a case in point. For both these reasons, our
historical understanding of the Church Struggle is broadened and
diversified by a history “from below.”

Located in three different regional churches, the church districts
Jantzen investigates are Nauen on the outskirts of Berlin in the
Brandenburg Church Province of the Church of the Old Prussian Union,
Pirna southeast of Dresden in the Saxon Lutheran Church, and Ravensburg
just north of Lake Constance in the southeastern corner of the
Wuerttemberg Protestant Church. Whereas the districts of Nauen and Pirna
were located in regional churches that were taken over by German
Christians, Ravensburg remained under the control of the powerful
Lutheran bishop, Theophil Wurm. Despite the proximity of Nauen and Pirna
to large cities, all three districts were rural or semi-rural and church
life played a prominent role in many of the small towns and villages in
these regions. Nauen consisted of twenty-five parishes, Pirna
thirty-nine, and Ravensburg just eleven.

Jantzen’s first two chapters address what motivated Protestant ministers
in Nauen, Pirna, and Ravensburg to support Hitler’s ascent to power and
how Hitler’s goal of “national renewal” translated into a “Protestant
renewal” in many local parishes. He attributes clerical support for
National Socialism to the belief that Hitler would partner with the
churches in generating a national and moral renewal that would
revitalize church life and stem the tide of workers leaving the churches
for the Communist Party. In addition to their nationalism and
anti-communism, Lutheran clergymen, Jantzen believes, were predisposed
to the authoritarian character of the Nazis by their understanding of
Lutheran theology, especially the law/gospel dualism, the doctrine of
two kingdoms, and the theology of the orders of creation.

The belief that Hitler and a National Socialist government would be
beneficial to the churches was at first confirmed by a surge in new
church members in Nauen and Pirna after Hitler assumed power. Jantzen
argues that this wave of religious enthusiasm illustrates the way in
which the political-nationalist momentum of National Socialism propelled
a parallel religious-nationalist momentum in many of the Protestant
regional churches. The German Christians, who swept to power in Nauen
and Pirna, led the charge, spurring the churches on to support Hitler’s
national renewal. However, as the influence of the German Christians
waned in the mid-1930s so did the new found interest in the churches.
Frustrated new members abandoned them in droves. In the eleven parishes
in Ravensburg in southern Germany, however, there were no membership
surges in or out of the churches and markedly less excitement about the
National Socialist seizure of power. This can be explained in part
because Protestants were a small minority in the region of Upper Swabia,
where the district of Ravensburg lay. Catholics were the overwhelmingly
majority in Upper Swabia and they tended to support the Catholic Center
Party. In all likelihood the politicization and disruption of church
life in Nauen and Pirna was the rule for most parishes across Germany.

Jantzen’s analysis of pastoral appointments in chapter three is a novel
approach to understanding exactly how parish politics was conducted in
Nazi Germany. In small towns and villages pastors were often more
important than mayors. They baptized, confirmed, married, and buried
their parishioners, educated children, led Bible studies, preached
sermons at weekly services, counseled those in need, chaired parish
meetings, and wrote for and edited parish newsletters. Although the
appointment of a pastor to a particular parish was often a routine
affair, in the Third Reich the process could just as often erupt into a
battle between supporters of the Confessing Church and the German
Christians or between rival factions of the Confessing Church. When a
pastoral position opened–and they opened frequently during the chaotic
years of the Nazi era–parishioners, church patrons, clergy, and
district and regional church authorities all had interests at stake. One
of the many intriguing conclusions that Jantzen reaches is that the
Confessing Church in Nauen was far more adept at getting their clergy
appointed than the German Christians because parishioners and local
church officials, who were quite influential in the appointment process,
were angry about the overt politicization of church life by German
Christians. They believed that Confessing Church pastors were more
likely to be responsible servants of the church and to recognize the
authority of the Bible and the Reformation Confessions. Whereas the
appointment process in Nauen was usually a local affair, in Pirna and
Ravensburg Land Bishops Coch, a German Christian, and Wurm, a
conservative Lutheran in the Confessing Church, centralized control of
the appointment process and appointed pastors whose views were
compatible with those of the bishops.

Although local pastors aligned with the German Christians and Confessing
Church could be fierce opponents in the realm of parish politics, they
diverged very little in their views on Nazi racial policy. Jantzen
writes that, “there is no evidence from the correspondence,
publications, or actions of Protestant clergy in Nauen, Pirna, and
Ravensburg to suggest that they were significantly affected by or
preoccupied with the euthanasia crisis or the “Jewish question” (93).
Most clergymen in the Confessing Church were too preoccupied with
defending the autonomy of the churches from encroachments by the German
Christians and the Nazis to pay much attention to racial policies that
did not directly affect the churches. The anti-Judaic traditions in the
church, the antisemitism of many of the pastors, and the desire to forge
a strong bond between the church and the state all contributed to
pastoral complacency toward, and at times complicity in, the mass
extermination of Jews. There were, of course, churchmen and women who
struggled in vain to convince the church to defend the victims of the
Nazi killing machine, but they were indeed exceptions.

The last three chapters of Jantzen’s monograph examine the course of the
Church Struggle in Nauen, Pirna, and Ravensburg. These chapters are
filled with fascinating sketches of individual pastors, church patrons,
and district superintendents as they try to negotiate their way through
the many trials and tribulations of the Church Struggle. Occasionally
the knowledgeable reader may come across a familiar name but for the
most part the stories recounted by Jantzen depict pastors and
parishioners whose lowly status within the churches did not warrant
their appearance in the more nationally oriented literature of the
field. By reconstructing the subjective experiences of individuals
toiling away in the parishes Jantzen challenges the neat stereotypes of
anti-Nazi Confessing clergy and pro-Nazi German Christians. A much more
nuanced picture emerges, especially of the Confessing Church, that
reminds us of the rich diversity of opinions and experiences in the
Church Struggle and confirms the value of a parish-level approach to
church history.

MDH

2b) Lowell C. Green, Lutherans Against Hitler: The Untold Story (Saint
Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2007).

Lowell C. Green’s study, Lutherans Against Hitler: The Untold Story
(2007), is reminiscent of the hagiographic histories written about the
Confessing Church several decades ago. The difference is that Green
replaces the old heroes of the Church Struggle, Martin Niemoeller, Karl
Barth, and their colleagues from the “destroyed” churches, with a new
group of heroes, Confessional Lutherans and leaders of the “intact”
churches including Paul Althaus, Werner Elert, Hans Meiser, and Hermann
Sasse. Green argues that these churchmen, armed only with their
steadfast loyalty to the Lutheran Confessions, successfully countered
attacks on the confessional integrity of the Lutheran churches by the
German Christians and Nazis, on the one hand, and the Barthians and
supporters of the Prussian Union churches, on the other hand. Repeatedly
Green argues that the political theology of Barth and the “radicals” in
the Dahlem-wing of the Confessing Church provided an opening for
Nazi-backed German Christians to takeover most of the regional churches.
By failing to adhere firmly to the central tenets of the Lutheran
Confessions – the distinction between Law and Gospel, the doctrine of
two kingdoms, the natural theology of the orders of creation – the
Barthians and Dahlemites weakened Lutheran resolve, caused a schism in
the churches, and damaged Protestant resistance to the German Christians
and the Nazi Party. After 1945, says Green, these same radicals grabbed
power, established the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD), and blamed
Lutheran Confessionalists for the churches’ complacency in the Third
Reich.

Central to Green’s thesis is his assertion that the merging of Lutheran
and Reformed doctrine and practices, whether at the behest of the German
Christians or the Confessing Church, undermined the ability of the
churches to stand firmly on Lutheran doctrine in opposition to Nazi
church policy. “The Confessional Lutherans,” he writes, “found
themselves faced with a threefold threat to their independence during
the Third Reich: the German Evangelical Church or Reich Church, the
Confessing Church, and the Barmen declaration” (28). Green contends that
the forced merger of Lutherans and Calvinists into the Church of the Old
Prussian Union in 1817 destroyed the Lutheran churches in the Prussian
Union and set a precedent for Hitler’s goal of one united Reich church.
The Barmen declaration is, in Green’s estimation, an egregious example
of the confessional mishmash propagated by Barth and the Confessing
Church. Authored by Barth–a Calvinist and the arch enemy of
Confessional Lutheranism,–the declaration’s most serious offense was
that it sacrificed Lutheran doctrinal integrity for unionism. Green
maintains that the August 1933 Bethel Confession, drafted by the
Lutherans Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Hermann Sasse, was a much stronger
statement than the Barmen declaration and that had it been adopted the
churches’ resistance to Hitler would have been more resolute.

While a study of the Confessional Lutherans during the Nazi era is
certainly a welcome addition to the one-sided historiography of the
Church Struggle, Green’s monograph is problematic for three reasons: his
methodology and use of sources, his relentless polemics, and his narrow
focus on the churches’ struggle for autonomy.

As a theologian with expertise in the Reformation period and the
Lutheran Confessions, Green cannot be expected to be familiar with every
book and article in the field of the Church Struggle. However, his
failure to recognize in his bibliography, footnotes, or the pages of his
monograph the extensive and easily accessible scholarship that directly
relates to his topic is perplexing, to say the least. As one might
expect,, much of this unacknowledged scholarship contradicts Green’s
thesis, but to ignore it entirely gives the impression that he does not
believe it is even worthy of mention. A study of Lutheran theology and
Lutheran resistance during the Third Reich should certainly make some
mention of, even if only to refute their theses, the work of Doris
Bergen, Gerhard Besier, John Conway, Robert Ericksen, Richard
Gutteridge, Wolfgang Gerlach, Martin Greschat, Susannah Heschel,
Jochen-Christoph Kaiser, Bjoern Mensing, Kurt Nowak, Eberhard Roehm,
Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, Joerg Thierfelder, and many others.
Green’s tendency to rely primarily on published collections of
documents, a limited selection of secondary sources, and the archive of
the theological faculty at the University of Erlangen contradicts his
claim that this book is an impartial study of “the untold story” of
Lutherans against Hitler.

Scholars of the Church Struggle, including many of those named above,
have been critical, even harsh, in their evaluation of the actions and
inaction of Confessional Lutherans during the Nazi era. These historians
charged the Confessional Lutherans with theological inflexibility,
ultra-nationalism, antisemitism, and even support for many of Hitler’s
goals. Green states that he felt compelled to answer these derogatory
charges and, in so doing, redeem the reputations of Confessional
Lutherans, some of whom he had studied under at the University of
Erlangen in the 1950s. Indeed, Green succeeds in providing an entirely
different picture–but at a cost. His monograph is so polemical and
one-sided that it undermines his own argument. A case in point is
Green’s treatment of Karl Barth and the Confessing Church. In the
chapter on Theocratic Enthusiasm Green makes the patently absurd and
offensive claim that, “There were uncomfortable similarities between
Hitler and Barth” and then goes on to compare Hitler’s worldview to
Barth’s (236). He also likens the Confessing Church to a totalitarian
movement. To be sure, Barth and the members of the Dahlem-wing of the
Confessing Church should not escape the scrutiny of scholars nor should
their efforts to protect the churches from Nazi and German Christian
encroachments be mocked.

By focusing disproportionately on the struggle for church autonomy in
the Third Reich, particularly the success that Lutheran Bishops
Marahrens, Meiser, and Wurm had in preserving the independence of their
regional churches, Green directs the reader’s attention away from issues
that shine a less favorable light on the Confessional Lutherans. The
unflattering record of Confessional Lutherans, especially Althaus,
Elert, Marahrens, and Meiser on the Jewish question is virtually ignored
by Green. They may have opposed militant antisemitism but their
statements and silences throughout the Nazi period indicate a latent
antisemitism and insensitivity to the Third Reich’s Jewish victims.
Green’s exculpatory analysis of the 1933 Erlangen response to the Aryan
paragraph, the 1934 Ansbach memorandum, and the 1939 Godesberg
declaration is indicative of his allegiance to the leading figures of
Confessional Lutheranism and his unwillingness to acknowledge the
damaging role they played in undermining Protestant resistance to the
German Christians and the Nazi Party.

A balanced study that neither excoriates Confessional Lutherans for
distancing themselves from the Niemoeller-wing of the Confessing Church
nor extols them for their rigid adherence to the principles of Lutheran
Confessionalism is needed now more than ever.

MDH

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January 2008 Newsletter

Association of Contemporary Church Historians

(Arbeitsgemeinschaft kirchlicher Zeitgeschichtler)

John S. Conway, Editor. University of British Columbia

January 2008— Vol. XIV, no. 1

Dear Friends,

Jesu, nimm dich deiner Glieder
Ferner in Genaden an;
Schenke, was man bitten kann,
Zu erquicken deine Brüder:
Gib der ganzen Christenschar
Frieden und ein selges Jahr!
Freude, Freude über Freude!
Christus wehret alle, Leide.
Wonne, Wonne über Wonne!
Er ist die Genadensonne.

J. S. Bach, Cantata BWV 40

A very warm welcome to you all in the New Year. I trust you had a blessed and refreshing holiday and are now about to resume you manifold interests in your different parts of the globe. I am always glad to hear from you, but please do NOT press the reply button above unless you want your remarks to be shared by all of our Newsletter subscribers. Instead, send me word to my private address = jconway@interchange.ubc.ca

I am hoping in the coming year that the reviews and notices I send you will continue to be of interest. I try to be as ecumencal as possible, and not to concentrate too much on any one subject. But I will admit that I may possibly have some hobby-horses, and some of you rightly commented earlier that I gave these too much free rein! Your comments and suggestions are very much apprreciated.
We were saddened to learn this month of the death of two distinguished members of our fraternity, who made significant contributions to our field of church history. Their obituaries are printed below.

Contents:

1) Obituaries:

a) Rev. Edwin Robertson;
b) Professor Gordon Zahn

2) Book reviews –

a) Ed. Spicer, Antisemitism, Christian ambivalence and the Holocaust
b) Plokhy/Sysyn, Religion and Nationalism in modern Ukraine

3) Conference report – American religious responses to the Kristallnacht

List of books reviewed in Vol. XIII – 2007

1a) Paul Oestreicher wrote the following tribute in The Guardian, London:

The Rev Edwin Robertson, who has died of bronchial pneumonia aged 95, was a renaissance man with a breadth of knowledge and a sharpness of wit that never diminished and never ceased to delight. He was a Baptist minister, broadcaster, author, translator and editor, notably in making known the life and work of the German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was hanged by the Nazis just before the end of the war.

Born in West Ham, London, Robertson saw little of his father, a ship’s cooper, but was devoted to his deeply religious mother. Life was spartan and he never ceased being a puritan in the best sense of the word. His politics were shaped by the harsh reality of his early environment. In 1938 he began his ministerial life in Stopsley, Luton, and married Ida Bates the following year. They moved to Luton and later St Albans, but war intervened. Having gained a first-class degree in physics and chemistry at London University before training for the Baptist ministry at Regent’s Park College, Oxford, he was directed into oil research, specifically on fuel for Spitfires.
Robertson took a deep interest in German Christians who resisted Hitler and befriended those exiled to England as well as German prisoners of war. Like George Bell of Chichester who, alone among the English bishops, was close to Bonhoeffer and the resistance inside Germany, Robertson deplored the bombing of German civilians. That perhaps made him the ideal person to head the religious affairs branch of the British military administration of occupied Germany, with the rank of brigadier. Speaking fluent German, this involved everything from getting food to the undernourished, setting up clergy training schemes and befriending survivors of the opposition, such as Martin Niemoeller, who were now Germany’s church leaders. In 1949 Robertson was made assistant head of religious broadcasting at the BBC, the start of his broadcasting career. He helped to shape the Third Programme and was a distinctive voice on Any Questions.

From 1956 he spent six years in Geneva as study secretary of the United Bible Societies and consultant to the World Council of Churches and the International Missionary Council. He then introduced to England, during a brief spell in Yeovil, the Bible weeks he had encountered in Germany.

The years 1964-75 were a natural progression from his work at the BBC. He was executive director of the World Association of Christian Broadcasting, responsible for the mass-media training of students from around the world. Together with the Evangelical Alliance and the Roman Catholic Church – a hitherto unheard of combination – he set up the churches’ advisory committee for local broadcasting. Based from 1975 at Westbourne Park Baptist church, he continued this work with his own radio studio, tutoring many students. To this he added a commitment to psychotherapy.

The author of nearly 100 books, Robertson wrote biographies of John Wycliffe, Paul Schneider, Lord Tonypandy, Chiara Lubich and Igino Giordani. Discovering that the only serious biography of Bell neglected his involvement with Germany and Bonhoeffer, he put that right with Unshakeable Friend: George Bell and the German Churches (1995). Robertson treated academic theology with scepticism and the growth of religious fundamentalism disturbed him. Like Neville Cardus, he was dedicated both to cricket and to music. He was confident that Bach was not the only composer he would meet in heaven, where the angels would surely be singing Mozart. He was made a Lambeth doctor of divinity two years ago.

Edwin Hanton Robertson, clergyman, writer and broadcaster, born February 1 1912; died November 3, 2007.

1b) Gordon Zahn (1918-2007)

Gordon Zahn, an internationally known Catholic peace activist and scholar, died on December 9th in Wisconsin, of complications from Alzheimer’s disease. He leaves behind a significant legacy which deeply influenced the Catholic Church’s teaching on conscientious objection, and helped propel Zahn’s hero, Franz Jagerstatter, on the path to sainthood.

Born in Milwaukee in 1918, Zahn took the highly unpopular stand during World War II of refusing to serve in the United States army, and served in a Civilian Public Service camp in New Hampshire. He would later write about that experience in his memoir, Another Part of the War: the Camp Simon Story (1979).

After the War, Zahn went on to earn a doctorate in sociology from the Catholic University of America, and then to teach, first at Loyola University in Chicago, and then at the University of Massachusetts in Boston, until his retirement. He also served as president and director of the Center on Conscience and War in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Over the course of his career, Zahn published and edited numerous works, the most famous beingGerman Catholics and Hitler’s Wars (1962) and In Solitary Witness: the Life and Death of Franz Jagerstatter (1965).The first book—which argued that the German Catholic hierarchy had provided moral support to the German war effort, even as it rejected the evils of the Nazi regime—provoked a firestorm of criticism, which led him to move from the Jesuit Loyola institution to the more secular University of Massachusetts. Paradoxically, however, it was there that he completed his most important Catholic work, notably his biography on Franz Jagerstatter. In Solitary Witness revealed the now-famous Austrian martyr’s story to the world—and most importantly, to the attention of the Catholic Church. Had Zahn never unearthed Jagerstatter’s witness—discovered while he was researching his book on German Catholics—it is unlikely that this humble Austrian farmer, who stood up to Hitler and died for his Catholic convictions, would ever have been beatified (as he was in October, 2007)—a fact Jagerstatter’s own widow, Franziska (still living at 94), has gratefully acknowledged. Zahn was too ill to attend the beatification ceremony in Linz, Austria; but those who did were made aware of Zahn’s indispensable role in bringing it about.

Zahn, at his best, influenced the Catholic Church in a profound and positive way. The progressive National Catholic Reporter commented: “Without Zahn’s work, one can hardly imagine the publication of the American bishops, ‘The Challenge of Peace: God’s Promise and Our Response’ in 1983. There, for the first time in Catholic history, nonviolence received equal billing with the just war tradition. The pastoral letter’s foundation, acknowledged in its footnotes, was the scholarship and research by Zahn.” More importantly, the Catechism of the Catholic Church, while clearly affirming traditional just war teaching, also strongly defended the rights of conscientious objectors: “The citizen is obliged in conscience not to follow the directives of civil authorities when they are contrary to the demands of the moral order, to the fundamental rights of persons or the teachings of the Gospel. Refusing obedience to civil authorities, when their demands are contrary to those of an upright conscience, finds its justification in the distinction between serving God and serving the political community.” Many believe this passage vindicates Zahn’s entire life’s work.

Despite the gravity of his subject matter, and the many rebuffs he suffered, Zahn never lost faith in the justice of his cause. He always believed education could enlighten and persuade people to promote the Gospel’s mandate for peace. As one of his friends told the Chicago Tribune: “Gordon had a deep sense of the pain of the world, but he also had hope and optimism.”

Gordon Zahn was, by all counts, a pious and gentle man, who touched the hearts of all those who knew him, including those who sometimes disagreed with his positions.

William Doino Jr.

2a) ed. K. Spicer C.S.C,. Antisemitism, Christian Ambivalence, and the Holocaust, Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, in association with the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Washington, D.C. 2007 xxi + 329 pp.
ISBN 113: 978-0-253-34973-9 cloth)

This review first appeared on H-German on December 6th 2007 (revised) Reviewers do not like coping with collections of essays. Either the topics covered are too diverse, or the quality of the contributions varies too widely. Some essays are abbreviated versions of books their authors have already written, others are a foretaste of books yet to be undertaken. The present volume, edited by Kevin Spicer, who now teaches at Notre Dame University, shares all these characteristics. But it is held together by the common thread of how the European churches of the twentieth century reacted to the ideology of antisemitism and to the horrendous crimes of the Holocaust which resulted from it.

The contributors, both historians and theologians, are suitably ecumenical, including Protestants, Catholics and Jews. Most are younger scholars, and are united in a highly critical view of Christian theology and prejudice in the early twentieth century, particularly in its propagation and encouragement of antisemitism. They all share the new perceptions about Judaism adumbrated since the Second Vatican Council, though some argue that the earlier pejorative antisemitic views still persist The editor, Kevin Spicer, maintains that even today antisemitism is present in Christian ranks because of the failure to understand and acknowledge Judaism on its own terms.
These essays are therefore designed both to record the fateful role antisemitism played in the Christian churches of the past, especially in their responses to National Socialism, and also to warn against any relapse into similar attitudes in the future.

The essays are grouped in four sections: Christian theology, clerical pastoral practices, Jewish-Christian dialogue and popular perceptions which Jews and Christians have of each other. The authors of the first group of essays predictably condemn the theological antisemitism of earlier centuries with its emphasis on Jewish disobedience, deicide and divine punishment, along with the accompanying claim that Christianity had superseded Judaism, leaving only the hope of conversion as the remedy. But they equally take issue with the argument put forward by some theologians of the twentieth century that a sharp dividing line should be drawn between Christian anti-Judaism, which was regrettable, and racial antisemitism, which was still more regrettable. In these authors’ eyes, following the lead given by Uriel Tal forty years ago, the two overlap and reinforce each other, so that it becomes impossible to distinguish the precise sources of prejudice and antipathy. There can be no doubt that ideological intolerance provided a fertile seedbed for Nazi propaganda. The real question is how far, or to what extent, were the Nazi attacks on the Jews supported, or at least not opposed, for theological reasons.. This remains much more difficult to estimate.

These authors may be criticized for assuming that theology or theologically-based anti-Judaic resentment, played a more substantial role than other factors. Alternatively, where sentiment favorable to Jews was expressed, as in Denmark, they seek to show that this can be attributed to an anti-German or nationalist pride rather than to any sympathy with Jews as such. This suggests that national and political factors rather than theology were determinant, both for or against the Jews. In Thorsten Wagner’s view, it was only after the protests against the Nazis’ actions against the Jews became an act of national resistance that the process of rethinking began in milieus affiliated with the church. But, as Robert Krieg points out, none of the theological factors which earlier fueled prejudice against Jews and Judaism, specifically the notion of supersessionism, the rejection of historical reconstruction of Jesus’ ministry and Jewish world, and the disavowal of religious freedom, are accepted any longer by the Catholic Church or by mainstream Protestants.. The second group of essays asks why certain churchmen demonstrated support for extreme right-wing political views and parties. Examples are quoted from Germany, Poland and Romania, though no essay deals with either Italy or Iberia. The reason is simple. Liberal democracy had never caught on east of the Rhine. The disasters of the first world war discredited all liberal panaceas. The violence and bloodshed in the newly-established Soviet Union destroyed belief in a socialist alternative. Security and safety could best be found in the historical rootedness of one’s own community. Dictators could be regarded as father figures. Antisemitism was only part of the much wider anti-alienism, which sought to exclude all baneful influences from abroad. Right-wing parties appeared to support the churches against the dangers of godless communism. As Donald Dietrich notes, the abstract neoscholastic theology taught in seminaries seemed totally inadequate to build up resistance to totalitarian movements. And, as the experience of the Vatican under Pope Pius XII shows, the church lacked an institutional platform to identify and resist political extremism or racial policies leading to extermination.

The third group of essays describes the attempts at Christian-Jewish dialogue in the aftermath of the Holocaust. Matthew Hockenos analyses the German Protestants who finally, after five years, came to realize the need for a full metanoia. So too Elias Füllenbach records the similar process of shock, renewal and crisis in the Catholic Church which culminated in the path-breaking Declaration of Nostra Aetate (1965). Füllenbach notably outlines the contributions made by the journalists Waldemar Gurian and Karl Thieme in the 1930s warning German Catholics against any concessions of the racial question. After 1945, Thieme linked up with Gertrud Luckner, a redoubtable social worker, whose efforts on behalf of the Jews during the war had led to her being incarcerated in Ravensbrück. Together they began from their base in Freiburg to campaign for a renewed Catholic attitude, despite warnings and even prohibitions from the Vatican. Luckner’s main achievement was the annual publication of the notable Freiburger Rundbriefe, which collected all statements and documents relating to the theme of improved Catholic-Jewish relations. At first, these authors still cling to the view that, because of the Holocaust, Jews would be psychologically disposed to accept Christianity. But later they went through a painful internal development to rid themselves of any anti-Judaic stereotypes and theological concepts, and instead to welcome Jews and Judaism on their own terms.

The final section describes Jewish reactions. Understandably there were and are still strong reservations to any encounter with Christians. Some Jewish scholars believe that distance has to be maintained since Jewish monotheism can never be reconciled to any other creeds, all of which are idolatrous. But other scholars argue that, given the churches’ new stance, there are now avenues of collaboration open to all those who seek to oppose any possible resurgence of the destructive antisemitism of the past. Gerson Greenberg’s article relates the various views put forward in the aftermath of the Holocaust. both assessing the significance of the catastrophe of the Holocaust, and the way forward while still living in a largely hostile world. He quotes with approval Maimonides’ exhortations to his people to ensure that they remembered the singular destiny of the Jewish people and religion.

To sum up, these essays are motivated by the eirenical desire to improve Christian-Jewish relations. They are therefore written with a “presentist” agenda, with all the benefits of enlightened hindsight, an approach that runs the danger of distorting the historical balance of past events. On the other hand, they do serve to remind us that the Holocaust’s legacy is not purely historical. The Church’s past ambivalence towards Judaism need now to be replaced with a much greater sensitivity and awareness, which is largely happening thanks to contributions such as those provided by these authors. While the book offers little new historical research, it will be pedagogically useful for undergraduates and for those who believe that analyzing the Church’s former and mistaken views of Jews and Judaism offers a means of achieving a more positive relationship in the future.

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2b) Serhii Plokhy and Frank E. Sysyn, Religion and Nation in Modern Ukraine. Edmonton and Toronto: Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies Press. 2003. 216 pp. ISBN 1-895571-45-6 (bound); 1-895571-36-7 (pbk.) $39.95 (bound) $27.95 (paper)
Religion und Nation: Die Situation der Kirchen in der Ukraine. edited by Thomas Bremer, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2003. 147 pp. ISBN 3-447-04843-3. Euro.36. (paper)

This review appeared first in Canadian-American Slavic Studies, Vol 41, no 4, Winter 2007.

The early history of Scotland was once described as murder tempered by theology. The more recent history of Ukraine could also qualify. No other part of Europe during the past hundred years has been so convulsed by turbulent political events, with horrendous and massive losses of life and property. In fact, as a crossroads between East and West, Ukraine has long been involved in a continuous struggle to obtain independence and identity. In its repeated attempts to achieve a national revival, the local churches have played a significant role, not only as inheritors of past traditions, but also as active participants in fashioning new intellectual and ideological agendas, as they relate to the indigenous religious populations.

The complexity and conflictual character of much of the Ukrainian ecclesiastical scene has long deterred western scholars from any evaluative surveys. In fact, the most comprehensive account is by the German scholar, Friedrich Heyer, who recently updated his initial study written fifty years ago. So it is all the more welcome to have the short analysis by two former Ukrainian scholars now resident in Canada, which will help to sort out some of the entangled religious and political questions of the current period.

Because of its earlier history, Ukraine was always multi-ethnic and hence pluralistic in its religious loyalties. At the same time, its rulers – then and now – have sought to mobilize religious forces to advance their particular cause. The Tsarist monarchs promoted the Moscow Patriarchate of the Orthodox Church, while in the western parts of the country, the Uniate Church, which is familiarly but misleadingly known as the Greek Catholic Church, owing its allegiance to the Pope in Rome, predominated under the sponsorship of the Austro-Hungarian emperors. In the twentieth century, further religio-political alliances resulted during and after the first world war. The rise of Communism in the Soviet Union and the subsequent persecutions led to the growth of local groupings such as the breakaway Autocephalous Ukrainian Orthodox church. During the Nazi occupation, both this splinter group and the Greek Catholics sought to regain ground. But after the Soviet victory, both were liquidated, and the remnants compulsorily amalgamated under the Moscow-dominated Patriarchate.

After 1989, the Greek Catholics almost spontaneously resurrected themselves and reclaimed their former churches and constituents. At the same time, another section of the Orthodox community sought to re-establish its own patriarch in Kiev. But for political reasons they refused to acknowledge the autocephalous group, and both are spurned by those who still acknowledge Moscow’s ecclesiastical authority.

These internal struggle,as the authors make clear, are intimately related to the different concepts of national autonomy upheld by rival political groups. Some look back to the past as a model for the revival of Ukrainian cultural and political independence, seeking to promote the Orthodox Church as the upholder of a specific Ukrainian destiny. But the political record of the autocephalists during the second world war continues to leave a bitter legacy. On the other side, the long subordination to the Moscow Patriarchate, with its frequent execution of the Soviet leaders’ demands, has also caused deep resentments. For example, after 1989, a large number of Orthodox priests and congregations switched over, or back, to the Greek Catholic Uniates. But these Uniates, in turn, seek to establish their independence from their Polish neighbors, who maintain the Latin rite and equally see their Roman connection as a vital part of the Polish national revival. Since there is a great intermingling of these respective populations and no clear acceptance of any one model for national resurgence, the result is still one of unresolved tensions and religious divisions.

Plokhy and Sysyn provide ample evidence of the close interaction between state building and religious movements. The politicians seek to enlist, or even to exploit, the churches in pursuit of their particular view of national identity. This, however, still remains illusory. These same problems are explored in the collection of essays, edited by Thomas Bremer, which resulted from a Berlin conference in 2001. These authors also stress the need for western scholars to be fully acquainted with the origins and development of each individual Ukrainian church in order to understand its particular contribution to the task of forging religious and political identity. They also provide a useful multi-lingual bibliography.

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2) Conference Report – North American responses to Kristallnacht

Three scholars recently unveiled new research into American religious responses to the Kristallnacht pogrom of November 1938 at the Middle Tennessee State University Holocaust Studies Conference this past November 8-10, 2007.

Dr. Maria Mazzenga, Education Archivist at the American Catholic History Research Center and Adjunct Instructor of History at the Catholic University in Washington, D.C., examined Catholic institutional responses to Kristallnacht, by contrasting the antisemitic bombast of Father Coughlin with the penetrating critiques offered by Catholic clerical and lay leaders in a national radio broadcast held on November 16, 1938. The speakers on the broadcastFather Maurice Sheehy, Assistant Professor in the Department of Religious Education at Catholic University and assistant to the University Rector; Archbishop John J. Mitty of San Francisco, California; Bishop John M. Gannon of Erie, Pennsylvania; Bishop Peter L. Ireton of Richmond, Virginia; former Democratic Presidential Candidate and Governor of New York, Alfred E. Smith, and Catholic University Rector, Monsignor Joseph M. Corriganargued that the violence unleashed on Jews and Jewish property in Germany was immoral, contrary to Christian teaching, and out of step with the religious and civic freedom valued by Americans. As Sheehy asserted, “The Catholic loves his Jewish brother, because, as Pope Pius XI has pointed out, we are all spiritual Semites.”

Dr. Patrick Hayes, Assistant Professor in the Department of Theology at St. John’s University in Staten Island, presented an explanation of the relationship between National Catholic Welfare Conference (NCWC) and the refugee policy of the United States government. Hayes focused on the work of the NCWC’s Bureau of Immigration Affairs, staffed by Bruce M. Mohler and Thomas F. Mulholland , two Catholic laymen, and its cooperative efforts alongside the Committee for Catholic Refugees from Germany (CCRG), headed up by Archbishop Rummel of New Orleans. The result was that Mohler and Mulholland were able to facilitate the immigration of almost four thousand Catholic non-Aryans to America in 1938 and 1939.

Kyle Jantzen, Associate Professor of History at Ambrose University College in Calgary, analyzed the immediate responses of mainline North American Protestants to Kristallnacht, finding them to be both swift and decisive. In keeping with liberal traditions that emphasized the “fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man,” church leaders in the Episcopalian/Anglican, Presbyterian, Congregationalist, and Methodist traditions protested the Kristallnacht pogrom in ways that were both similar to and deliberately embedded in the broader American and Canadian outcry. In doing so, they emphasized the barbarism of Hitler and his Nazi movement and called upon government officials to make complaints to their German counterparts. This Protestant reaction was centred on four key moments: first, the Armistice Day remembrance services and hastily organized Anti-Nazi League radio broadcast on November 11; second, the Sunday worship services and public denunciations of Germany made by Protestant denominational leaders on November 13; third, the national radio broadcast sponsored by the Federal Council of Churches (FCC) on November 14; and fourth, the ecumenical and interfaith rallies held to mark the FCC day of prayer held throughout the United States on November 20 and echoed in at least seventeen rallies held that same day across Canada. Many of these protests not only condemned Nazi Germany for lapsing into barbarism, but also expressed sympathy for Jewish “brethren,” lamented the loss of human rights in Germany, and called for the defence of freedom of religion, liberal democracy, and western civilization. In some cases, leaders also called for the Canadian and American governments to open the doors of their nations for Jewish refugees to find new homes.

Much of this new research was facilitated by support from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum (USHMM). Mazzenga, Hayes, Jantzen, and seven other scholars (Michael Berkowitz, University College, London; Matthew Burton Bowman, Georgetown University, Washington D.C.; Gerald P. Fogarty, University of Virginia, Charlottesville; Gershon Greenberg, American University, Washington, D.C.; Karen Riley, Auburn University, Montgomery; and Victoria Barnett and Suzanne Brown-Fleming of the Center for Advanced Holocaust Studies at the USHMM) met together in a USHMM Summer Research Workshop this past August, under the theme, “American Religious Organizations and Responses to the Holocaust in the United States: Reichskristallnacht as a Case Study.” Comparing Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant reactions to the pogrom of November 1938, the members of the workshop converged on four interpretive questions. First, they noted that the problem of American antisemitism influenced the responses of American religious leaders to Kristallnacht, raising questions about whether protests were focused on the particular issue of Jewish as victims or the universal problem of the violation of human rights and the creation of a refugee crisis. Second, the workshop participants discovered that most protests drew on the American values of religious freedom and pluralism, contrasting their liberal democratic world with the fascist (and communist) dictatorships of men like Hitler. Third, the scholars found that many of the religious protests against Kristallnacht were ecumenical and even interfaith in nature. This was particularly true of a number of significant radio broadcasts involving important public and religious leaders in the days and weeks following the Nazi attack on the Jews. Fourth and finally, the members of the workshop discovered that at least in some circles the Kristallnacht pogrom became, among other things, a significant moment of theological Kairos. Members of the workshop plan to publish their research in two volumes: a collection of essays drawn from the summer institute itself, and a primary source volume collecting and analyzing the various radio broadcasts organized in protest against the Kristallnacht pogrom.

Kyle Jantzen, Calgary

List of books reviewed in 2007.

Ackermann, S Christliche Frauen in der DDR May
Allen, J. Rabble-rouser for peace. a biography of Desmond Tutu November
Austin A. and Scott, J. S. Canadian Missionaries, Indigenous Peoples July
Berkman, J.A. ed Contemplating Edith Stein January
Böttcher, M. Gratwanderungen einer Freikirche im totalitären Regime
Die gemeinschaft der Sieben-Tags-Adventisten in der DDR May
Brechenmacher, T. Der Vatikan und die Juden February
Carter, R., In search of the lost. Martyrdom in Melanesia March
Chandler, A. The Church of England and the politics of reform 1948-1998 November
Chertok, H. He also spoke as a Jew. The Life of James Parkes April
Coupland, P. Britannia, Europa and Christendom October
Franz Jägerstätter December
Gailus, M. and Krogel, W. eds. Von der babylonischen Gefangenschaft
der Kirche im Nationalen
 June
Heinecke, H. Konfession und Politik in der DDR January
Humel, K-J and Kösters, C. eds. Kirchen im Krieg.Europa 1939-1945 July
Krondorfer, B., von Kellenbach, K. Reck, N. Mit Blick auf die Täter March
Kushner, T. and Valman, N eds. Philosemitism, antisemitism and the Jews April
Lawson, T. The Church of England and the Holocaust February
Linker, D. The Theocons. Secular America under Siege June
Mau, R. Der Protestantismus im Osten Deutschlands May
Mitzscherlich, B. Diktatur und Diaspora. Das Bistum Meissen 1932-1951 December
Munro, G. Hitler’s Bavarian Antagonist: Georg Moenius May
Parkes, James End of an Exile. Israel, the Jews and the Gentile world April
Peart-Binns, J.S. A heart in my head. A biography of Richard Harries September
Raina, P. Bishop George Bell. The greatest Churchman May
Richmond, C. Campaigning against antisemitism April
Scherzberg, L. ed. Theologie und Vergangenheitsbewältigung May
Schmidtmann, C. Katholische Studierende 1945-1973 October
Snape, M., God and the British Soldier. Religion and the British Army October

With all my good wishes for the start of the New Year

John Conway

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