The moving 80th commemoration of D-Day this month occurred six days after the barely-noticed 90th anniversary of the Barmen Declaration, one of the past century’s most important religious documents. This anti-Nazi protest by German Protestants addressed the vital question of how churches should respond when dangerous social currents arise.
Reverend Martin Niemöller's conflicts with National Socialism emerged out of his opposition to the German Christians, a pro-Nazi faction within the German Protestant Church that sought to apply Nazi racial dogma to church membership in such a way as to bar Jewish persons from the ministry and religious teaching positions.
In 1933, Niemöller founded an organization of pastors to combat the rising discrimination. Niemöller joined other churchmen such as Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer in founding the Confessional Church, a Protestant group that opposed the Nazifi cation of the churches.
Hitler’s reaction was to appoint his friend Alfred Rosenberg to control the spiritual training of the Nazi Party. Dietmar Schmidt in his biography of Niemöller writes, “Rosenberg’s aim was the creation of a German Church in which there would be no place for the teaching of Christ. The eternal truth was not to be found in the Gospels but in the Germanic ideals of character. He set forth the doctrine that the German people and they alone were the godhead which all Germans should worship.” The Nazi contention was that God had revealed Himself in recent German history and in the person of Adolf Hitler.
The 1934 Barmen Declaration was a call to resistance against the theological claims of the Nazi state which expressly repudiated the claim that powers other than Christ could be sources of God's revelation. Two of its declarations stated: We reject the false doctrine that there could be areas of our life in which we would not belong to Jesus Christ but to other lords.
We reject the false doctrine that, apart from this ministry, the Church could, and could have permission to, give itself or allow itself to be given special leaders [Führer] vested with ruling authority.
Niemöller was eventually arrested and became Hitler’s personal prisoner. After seven months in solitary confi nement, he was transferred to a cell beneath the Special Court where he was to be tried for treason. The prison was connected to the court by an underground tunnel. A green-uniformed official came to escort him from his cell. Down a corridor and up a long flight of stone steps the two men walked in silence. Niemöller had no illusions about being given a fair trial. The result of the trial was a foregone conclusion.
His steps and those of the jailer behind him echoed in the stone stairwell. Niemöller was suddenly filled with a dread and terrible feeling of loneliness. Where was everyone who had hitherto supported him? Then followed one of the most uplifting experiences of Niemöller’s life.
As he climbed the long, dark steps, he heard a voice. It seemed to be repeating a sentence. “Nomen Domini turris fortissma . . .” Because of the echo in the tunnel, it was difficult to tell where the voice came from. Then he realized it was the voice of the jailer whispering to him a scripture from Proverbs! “The Name of the Lord is a strong tower. The righteous runneth into it, and is safe.” Niemöller gave no sign that he had heard. But his fear had gone, and in its place was the calm brilliance of an utter trust in God.
The vital question of how the church should respond to dangerous social currents remains. Yet, blessedly, so also does the strong tower of the Name of the Lord.
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