Saturday, December 2, 2017

Post-WWII Debates over the Roman Catholic Church in Nazi Germany

Earlier this week the NYT reported a story about the sentencing of twenty-nine former officials from Argentina who were convicted of murdering civilians by throwing them from aircraft. These crimes took place during the military dictatorship there from the mid-'70s to the early '80s. Part of the story is the apparent complicity of the Roman Catholic Church in the junta’s crimes. According to the Times, while "no member of the clergy was accused in the trial, ...prosecutors alleged that church officials were complicit in hiding detainees from international human rights inspectors." For more on this story, go to:
https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/29/world/americas/argentina-death-flights-trial-dictatorship.html

In the same week, Pope Francis was criticized by human rights officials for not referring by name to the Rohingya people during his visit to Myanmar. It was widely thought that the pope needed to tread carefully regarding what he said about Myanmar's persecuted Muslim minority while in that country, at least partly out of concern for his own Catholic flock there. Only yesterday, on the eve of his departure from Bangladesh to Rome, did he publicly state, "The presence of God today is also called Rohingya."

These stories brought to mind a recently published book by Mark Ruff, a professor of history at St. Louis University. His 394-page book, The Battle for the Catholic Past in Germany 1945-1980 (Cambridge, 2017), explores the public post-war debates in Germany about the Roman Catholic Church's actions during the Nazi regime. Ruff's well-written and carefully researched study sheds a light on the very acrimonious exchanges in the German media during those years when Roman Church critics and Roman Church defenders waged their struggles against each other. To explain the intensity of these conflicts Ruff reconstructs the political, ecclesiastical, and intellectual networks in which this particular "culture war" occurred. These networks "controlled levers of funding, regulated access to historical documents and served as a gateway to the international media at a time when most documents lay under lock and key and a modern scholarly infrastructure with its ubiquitous conferences and research centers was in its infancy."

Ruff shows that the range of participants in these public arguments crossed national boundaries and German political parties and included professors, public intellectuals, international journalists, Communist propagandists, and leaders from multiple religions (including Vatican officials and also Pope Paul VI). The book opens a window to many of these personalities. In the end, the reader will have a better understanding of the less savory aspects of these public disputes--the involvement of the East German government, the actions of Vatican officials against church critics at Catholic universities and religious institutions, the course of lawsuits (and "the court of public opinion" about them), efforts at press censorship in Germany and other countries. Still, the book also provides a very insightful investigation into intellectual history, with aspects of political, social, and cultural history serving as the larger framework.

I definitely plan to assign portions of the book near the end of my undergraduate course on Christians in Nazi Germany, when we examine how Christians and others in the post-war period sought to come to grips with what Christians had done (and not done) during the Third Reich.

In the interest of full disclosure I need to mention that Mark Ruff is a dear friend. I have known many members of his extended family since 1986, when I lived in the home of one of his great aunts, Dorothy Ruff, who was a member of Emanuel Lutheran Church, Lancaster, Ohio, where I did my year-long pastoral internship (vicarage). Later, for nearly a decade, Mark and I were close colleagues at Concordia University, Portland, where he taught history. (Mark is also an excellent organist. He played the organ at my father's funeral.) My wife played matchmaker for Mark and his future bride, Lynnae. I was best man in their wedding. Mark's father, a retired LCMS pastor, is also a good friend, as are another aunt and uncle. (They recently participated in my Reformation tour to Germany.)

Still, I think I'm a fair judge of quality scholarship when I see it, and Mark's book is certainly of very high quality! I learned a lot from reading it.

Monday, November 13, 2017

All Luther-ed Out

A week ago today my son and I returned from Germany, after having led a group of 108 pilgrims to places connected with Martin Luther and J. S. Bach in observance of the 500th Anniversary of the start of the Protestant Reformation. There were many moving parts during that fortnight set of experiences, none more memorable than the morning worship at St. Thomas Church, Leipzig, on Oct 31st, followed by a hymnfest at the Castle Church, Wittenberg, later that afternoon. Both events included Valpo's chorale, which sang one of Bach's Reformation cantatas (BWV 79: "Gott der Herr ist Sonn und Schild") in the morning and then multiple pieces in the afternoon, including "Into the Light," which was composed this year by Jake Runestad and commissioned by Valparaiso University for the special anniversary. Runestad's work, which ties together distinct ideas from several reformers, and Valpo's chorale were big hits in Germany.

Before the Oct 29 Service at the Erfurt Monastery

















On Sunday, Oct 29, our group worshiped with the local Lutheran congregation at the Augustinian Monastery in Erfurt. When the local pastor learned that three groups of Americans would be present for worship that morning, she asked me to read the Old Testament lesson in English and another group leader to read the appointed Gospel reading. At the conclusion of her sermon, the pastor then offered a very helpful summary of her homily in English. Following Holy Communion that morning, more than one person told me, "Today is one of the top ten days of my life." That same comment was made by several others a few days later on the actual anniversary date, after the three-hour service at St. Thomas Church and the two-hour concert at the Castle Church. (My son and I found ourselves seated directly beside Luther's grave during that latter service. I couldn't help but give the grave stone a little "pat" at the end of the evening....) Earlier that day in Wittenberg I had the pleasure of meeting and talking with Pr. Hans-Jörg Voigt, the current bishop of the SELK. (The group and I noticed that the pastors who preached and presided at the Lutheran services in which we participated in Erfurt and Leipzig were women.)

31 Oct 2017: seated under the pulpit, next to Luther's grave
Photo by Jon Hendricks
I delivered mini-lectures most every morning to the plenary group and then offered color commentary as Jacob and I rotated among our group's three buses. Altogether we visited Berlin (major exhibit on the reformer at the German National Museum), Eisleben (Luther's place of birth and death), Eisenach (where he was a young student and where Bach was baptized), the Wartburg Castle (where Luther was sequestered by Fred the Wise and where he translated the entire NT into the local German dialect), Erfurt (where he attended the university and joined an Augustinian monastery), the Coburg Castle (as far south as he could travel safely to be in close communication with those attending the 1530 Augsburg Diet), Leipzig (where he debated Eck in 1519, and where Bach was director of music for 27 years), Wittenberg (1.5 days' worth of activities and museums), Weimar (where Bach was a court composer and music director),  Buchenwald (which allowed us to ponder "Luther and the Holocaust" and to remember Paul Schneider and Dietrich Bonhoeffer), and Dresden.

Foci for my mini-lectures included Luther's childhood and education, his theological "breakthrough," Augustinian monasticism then and now, Luther's illnesses and "Anfechtungen," the 95 Theses, Luther and the Jews, Luther and Bach in Eisenach, the Wartburg Castle and German nationalism, Bach's Reformation cantatas, the German Protestant churches today, and the history and architecture of the Frauenkirche in Dresden. Given that German Chancellor Angela Merkel (daughter of a Lutheran pastor) and German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier (son of a Reformed pastor) were both in attendance at the Castle Church, Wittenberg, on Oct 31st (indeed, one in our group shook hands with Frau Merkel and briefly spoke with her), I devoted one lecture to "German Politics Today." Each morning I offered some additional commentary on the cover stories of the local and regional German newspapers (and on that week's issue of "Der Spiegel"). So our discussions were not only about the sixteenth century and Martin Luther.

Jacob and I at the Zwinger Museum in Dresden



















Once again, EO Tours put us up in some really nice digs and provided us with very good food at all of our group meals in the evening.

I am now looking forward to July 2020, when my colleague, Gretchen Buggeln, and I will be leading the next Valpo alumni tour. For that two-week tour, we will examine church art and architecture from NW Germany, France, and England. The tour will include a Rhine River cruise, a visit to a French champagne cellar, museums and churches in Aachen, Trier, Paris, Chartres, London, and Oxford, and lectures/commentary by Gretchen and yours truly. More on this tour at a later time.

Needless to say, I'm ready to take a break from all things Luther!

Thursday, September 14, 2017

One "F" von Hofmann

Late last month I received my gratis copy of the Dictionary of Luther and the Lutheran Traditions, edited by Timothy Wengert and published by Baker Academic. This very large reference work (more than 800 pages) contains nearly 600 entries, ten of which are by yours truly: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Werner Elert, Erlangen, Johannes von Hofmann, Theodosius Harnack, J. A. O. Preus, Arthur Carl Piepkorn, Jaroslav Pelikan, Edmund Schlink, and Ernst Troeltsch. For information on this important book, go here. It will now likely become the standard one-volume resource on Lutheran theology and church history in English, at least for the next generation or two. (Professor Wengert and most of his associate editors are "talking heads" in the recent PBS documentary, "Martin Luther: The Idea That Changed the World," which was broadcast locally this past Tuesday. For information on that film, go here.)

Johannes C. K. von Hofmann (1810-77)
Unfortunately, there is an error in the dictionary, actually, a set of errors. Due to a copy editor's mistake at Baker, Johannes Christian Konrad von Hofmann's name is misspelled in my entry and in every other one that refers to him. Throughout the book his name is spelled "Hoffmann." Thankfully, the overall editor at Baker, who immediately apologized for this mistake, has corrected this set of misspellings in the electronic version of the book. (This is one of the blessings of contemporary publishing, namely, that such errors can be immediately fixed, at least in the e-versions of a product.) The editor at Baker has promised to make sure Hofmann's name is spelled correctly in subsequent editions.

Since I devoted a few years of my life to studying and writing about Hofmann's life and work, the principal fruit of which was my doctoral dissertation at the University of Chicago, I have tried to make clear how his name is to be spelled. Yes, this has been a pet peeve of mine, partly because a few American scholars have misspelled his name over the decades. Having read everything this Bavarian ever published, I can verify that the title pages of all of his books print his name as Johannes Christian Konrad von Hofmann. One "f." Two "n"s. That's true, too, for all of his numerous journal articles and magazine editorials.

If you have purchased a hard copy of the first edition of the Dictionary of Luther and the Lutheran Traditions, please note the correct spelling of this important nineteenth-century Lutheran theologian. If you know of someone who has purchased this volume, let that person know this, too. Thank you.





Monday, August 14, 2017

Die Vergangenheitsbewältigung

The Germans have a large word for it: Die Vergangenheitsbewältigung; literally, "coming to grips with the past." My Duden dictionary defines it as a "public debate within a country on a problematic period of its recent history."

As far as I can tell, this term was coined shortly after the Second World War, when Germans had to wrestle with their immediate past: the country's defeat in the First World War; the rise of fascism in the Weimar period; the racist and nationalistic rhetoric of multiple minority parties; the economic and political chaos of the twenties and early thirties; the ineffective parliament; the appointment of Hitler (whom many mainstream politicians considered a "joke" and a "buffoon"); the "emergency measures" that led to the abolishing of all political parties, other than the NSDAP (the Nazi Party); the Nazis' scapegoating and violent actions against communists, democratic-socialists, Jews, and other "undesirables"; the aggression against neighboring countries; the War; the Shoah; the country's total defeat in 1945; the horror of it all--and then the rebirth in the fifties, which was accompanied by tensions and conflicts of a related kind, when so-called "guest workers," who were mostly from Turkey, put down roots and came to see themselves as more than "guests."

After the Second World War, die Vergangenheitsbewältigung included a debate in Germany about what to do with the concentration camps. While the process of that discussion was complicated, far more so than I can summarize here, it basically involved two opposing positions. On the one hand, some argued that the camps should be torn down, demolished, covered over, replaced with something more positive. "Best to forget what happened here, and move on." On the other hand, some argued that the camps should be kept pretty much as they were in 1945, to make them into Gedenkstätte, literally, "places of thought," "places to think about the past," that is, as "memorials." "We must not forget. We must re-member. Let the camps be turned into museums that can remind later generations of what transpired here. Let them be warnings: Never again!" This latter position prevailed, and so today one can visit any number of Gedenkstätte in Germany, Poland, Austria, and other places.

To this day, all German high-school students must visit a concentration camp as a part of their high-school curriculum. They must confront a past that they did not choose, one for which their great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents bear more or less responsibility, although many of the students have no familial connection to Germany in the 1930s and 40s, since their families came to Germany after the war. Still, all students must deal with what transpired in their country in the not-too-distant past.

In just a few months, I will be leading 108 Americans to Germany for the 500th anniversary of the start of the Protestant Reformation. In the course of that pilgrimage, we will visit Buchenwald, whose camp clock is still set to the time when the Allies liberated that place of horror.

On my last visit to that memorial a few years ago, after viewing the many haunting and disturbing exhibits in the two-story museum (the former depot, which is down the slope from the famous entrance gate), I came upon the place where visitors can leave public comments and reflections. Most of the notes and poems I read that day expressed some form of regret or shock for what had happened or some form of hope that such an evil would never happen again. A few acknowledged, "That was my great-grandparents' generation, not mine. I don't want to be burdened with the guilt that they alone should have borne, but I will do what I can so that such suffering and death never occur again." That afternoon, I must have read seventy-five comments like that one. But there was one hand-written note on that final memorial wall that has stuck with me and haunted my memory. It was a note from one of those millions of German high-school students who must "come to grips" with Hitler and the Holocaust and the terrible past of German history. It was a simple note:

"Die Juden erhielten was sie verdienten." "The Jews got what they deserved."

I had to read the note twice to make sure I had understood it properly. Yes, that's what was written. This unsettling, nauseating note, included among several other high-school notes from just a few weeks earlier, was posted in 2015.

How did that anonymous student come to have such hatred? How could that person visit such a place as Buchenwald, with all of its disturbing artifacts and graphic pictures and the matter-of-fact explanations and descriptions, and still find the energy to write what he or she did? (Was it a Muslim-German student who wrote this? A Christian? A cynical, nihilistic kid from a disillusioned and distraught family? Who?)

I thought about that note this past weekend, as I watched the terrifying images from Charlottesville. The young man who plowed into the crowd of counter-protesters there, killing a young woman and severely injuring so many others, is probably the same age as that anonymous former German high-school student, a mere twenty years old.

Jim Wallis has rightly identified slavery as "America's original sin." How ought we as a country to come to grips with that horrific past, including the war that did and did not end it? A past that is, frankly, still very painfully present today? How should we remember that history? What should our Gedenkstätte be? What "places of thought" should we require our high-school students to visit? Where can we "come to grips" with our troubled past, even if we can't really, fully work our way through it? From where comes the healing?

(As a Christian, I believe there is an ultimate, Spirit-worked, Christ-centered healing for the evil and sins of racism and nationalism and fascism and militarism. That healing comes through repentance. It involves remorse for past sins, including those that we have inherited from our forebears, and the desire to make right what has been wrong. Most crucially, for Christians, that healing is grounded in the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and the work of the Spirit to free people to love unconditionally and to work toward reconciliation, peace, and the renewal of society. But how difficult it is to articulate and convey that "good message" and the promise of Christ and the Spirit, when white supremacists and nationalists appeal to Christian symbols and thereby distort that message and contradict it and undermine it.)

I recently re-read the three-volume "narrative history" of the civil war by Shelby Foote, a native Mississippian. While this work is dated, and although it contains portions that seem to glorify that war and perhaps even suggest a kind of "moral equivalency" between officers and soldiers on both sides of that conflict, it is a monumental work of national memory that should be read by every American. I can think of few better ways to come to grips, if only initially, with that key turning-point in the American past. In that sense, Foote's trilogy is a kind of national Denkmal (memorial) for one part of our troubled yesterday.

Instead of defending "war-hero" monuments and memorials that were erected by southern racists in the time of Jim Crow, read Foote. (Or watch the Ken Burns' documentary, in which Foote is a central commentator.) The still-standing pieces of southern metal and stone from the 1920s and '30s--ostensibly erected to remember Lee and Jackson and other leaders of a lost and wrong cause but whose real intent was motivated by fears and hatreds at the time those memorials were dedicated--do not move our civic memories forward in any positive way. They only serve to project post-WWI hatred and racial bigotry into the present. Read instead the words of Foote, including those near the end (p. 971!) of the "Bibliographical Note" in his second volume (completed in 1963):

... Further afield, but no less applicable, Richmond Lattimore's translation of the Illiad put a Greekless author in close touch with his model. Indeed, to be complete, the list of my debts would have to be practically endless. Proust I believe has taught me more about the organization of material than even Gibbon has done, and Gibbon taught me much; Mark Twain and Faulkner would also have to be included, for they left their sign on all they touched, and in the course of this exploration of the American scene I often found that they had been there before me. In a quite different sense, I am obligated also to the governors of my native state and the adjoining states of Arkansas and Alabama for helping to lessen my sectional bias by reproducing, in their actions during several of the years that went into the writing of this volume, much that was least admirable in the position my forebears occupied when they stood up to Lincoln. I suppose, or in any case fervently hope, it is true that history never repeats itself, but I know from watching these three gentlemen that it can be terrifying in its approximations, even when the reproduction--deriving, as it does, its scale from the performers--is in miniature.

While we might initially object to Foote's use of "least admirable" here, since those words suggest there was something "more admirable" in those who fought to defend slavery and the confederacy--and we do not like to think there was--still, Foote's criticism of the racism he saw in his own troubled day indicates that people can learn from their nation's past sins, repent of them, "lessen their sectional bias," and work so as not to allow history to terrify in its approximations. With Foote, we can hope that history will not repeat itself. Of late, however, my hope is being sorely tested.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Christ in the University: The Vision of Schlink

Last week the journal of my university, The Cresset, published a revised version of my professorial lecture that I delivered last February. It examines the vision of Christ in a church-related university that was set forth by the Lutheran theologian Edmund Schlink (1903-1984) in his own inaugural lecture at Heidelberg University three score and ten years ago.

As I note in the introductory paragraph, Schlink's professorial lecture still speaks meaningfully to the contemporary situation of a church-related university. His vision is worth re-visiting.

If you'd like to read the essay version of my lecture, it is available online here.