Berlin – Division and Dissonance

Categories: Sabbatical Soundings

Berlin

October 28, 2017

Guten morgen!  I write this morning having just arrived in Leipzig yesterday evening, after spending the last 4 days in Berlin.

Visiting Berlin brings with it a rather profound experience of contrasts and juxtapositions.  You simply cannot escape the reminders of both the Nazi / World War II history and the Cold War era division of the city between west and east.  There are a number of old and historic locations, as one finds in most European cities, and yet they are in the midst of a city that is by and large of relative modern construction, given the degree to which Berlin was destroyed by Allied bombing during World War II.  And a number of the historic places one sees today are actually reconstructions/rebuilds done after the war.

The city has been reunified since late 1989 and the Berlin Wall is most gone (except for a few places where sections were kept as monuments to the history), and yet there’s still noticeable aesthetic differences between the eastern and western parts of the city.  Not all of these differences are what you’d expect, though; there are portions that were in the west that can seem a bit on the “gritty” side (in the way some sections of cities can be), whereas in the east side things can seem relatively clean yet sterile and stark.

Freedom and trauma

Trying to wrap your mind around the long series of psychological trauma the city has been through is pretty astounding.  There’s the humiliation and economic devastation that followed World War I, which led to the ability of the Nazi regime to rise to power.  There’s the cognitive, psychological, and spiritual dissonance of the mass accommodation of the Nazi regime and ideology.  Then there is the damage of World War II itself; it’s amazing to look at immediately-post-war pictures of a city in rubble and remember that, in fact, people were still living there.  Then, of course, there is all the effects of the divided reality of the Cold War era.

The Berlin Wall era makes for an interesting context to think about what exactly “freedom” entails.  West Berlin was literally walled-in, surrounded by a real physical wall that encapsulated the whole place.  And yet West Berliners had the ability to travel to East Berlin—with proper permits—and the freedom to go to West Germany and really anywhere.  They also had ideological freedom and the freedom of democracy.  On the other hand, East Berlin was not walled-in.  It was walled-off from West Berlin, but not otherwise surrounded.  East Berliners could move freely into other parts of East Germany without crossing any borders, and to travel to other parts of the Eastern Bloc.  And yet, they could not travel to the West except under very highly restricted terms, they were constantly under surveillance by the Stasi (the East German intelligence agency), and lived with a level of ideological repression.  And on yet another hand… for all of its repressive realities, the communist/socialist regime of East Germany at least made sure that everyone was fed and housed—basic survival needs accounted for—which is not something that capitalist societies always do very well.

I also found myself thinking about the reality that this era of division and ideological repression followed so quickly on the heels of all the awfulness of the Nazi era and the World War II destruction.  What does all of this trauma do to the psyche of a people, especially when there has been no time to “heal” from the previous trauma?

The church in it all…

The various roles that the Christian church has played through all of this history also warrants reflection.  The truth is, it’s no simple or by any means entirely valorous story.

At the “Topography of Terror” museum—situated on the location where the Gestapo and SS headquarters were located under the Nazi regime—there is currently a special exhibition running in conjunction with the Reformation 500 anniversary.  The exhibition examines how Martin Luther’s legacy played into the Nazi program, in particular the ethnic cleansing aspects thereof.

It’s well known that late in his life, Luther wrote a truly terrible and reprehensible anti-Jewish piece titled “On the Jews and their Lies”.  Although earlier in his life, Luther had written more sympathetically about the Jews, this latter piece has provided plenty of anti-Jewish ideological fuel for those seeking it.  All of the major Lutheran church bodies, both in Germany and in the US, have since denounced this piece by Luther.

What was interesting about the exhibit, though, was how it highlighted that it wasn’t only Luther’s anti-Jewish piece that was appropriated.  His overall identity and persona was used as a totem for the efforts of the Nazi regime.  They portrayed him as an exemplar of the strong German Christian leader, the true-German’s German.  They lifted up the Nazi’s program of strengthening and purifying German culture and society as the effort to “complete” the Reformation that Luther started.  Luther anniversaries during the Nazi regime—the 450th of his birthday, the 400th of his publishing of the Luther Bible (Luther’s translation of the Bible from the original languages into German)—provided further opportunities to push the agenda under the guise of Luther’s legacy.

A quote from one of the preeminent Lutheran-pastor Nazi resistors, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, opens the exhibit:  “One wonders why Luther’s action had to be followed by consequences that were the exact opposite of what he intended” (October 31, 1943).  German Protestant pastors like Bonhoeffer, Martin Niemöller, Karl Barth, and others are often looked to today as shining examples of resistance to the terrible Nazi agenda.  They also turned to Luther, among other sources, to support their work.  All well and good… but I think we too easily forget the truth that a significant majority of German Protestants—laity and clergy—went along with the regime.  Soon after the Nazi rise to power, church elections were held for the leadership of the German Protestant church.  By a two-thirds majority, the vote went to the “German Christian” party that supported the Nazi agenda.

I think this is significant for us to reflect on, because we often laud the figures of resistance—like Bonhoeffer, for example—because, I think, we’d often like to imagine that we would be among the voices of resistance if we’d lived in that era.  But would we have been?  With what ills are a majority of Christians today (inclusive of all varieties of those who profess to be Christian) going along with?

The complicity of the German Protestant establishment with the Nazi regime is not the only thing that Berlin offers for reflection in the realm of church and resistance.  Two others come to mind… one is the reality that, even after the horror of World War II and even amidst the strong and active anti-religious agenda of the communist East German regime, the church still survives (albeit in much smaller numbers of adherents).  I was impressed to see the Berliner Dom, the Protestant “cathedral” in Berlin, and in particular to learn that it stood in ruins until the early 1970s.  It was while still under the anti-religion East German regime, though, that this stunning edifice was rebuilt.  The money for it came from the West, of course, but nevertheless it happened.  And there are other examples, too.  As an old hymn lyric goes, “Built on the rock, the church does stand, even when steeples are falling.”  Especially given the culture of church in America, and the history of the post-war “glory days” of the 1950s and early 60s, we easily associate “success” with numbers; but I’d count the continued persistence of the church in eastern Germany as a different form of “success”.

The other thing to mention… I was surprised in visiting the DDR Museum (the museum presenting what life was like under the East German regime) to learn of the role that the Lutheran church played, especially beginning in the late 1970s and continuing through the 1980s, in fomenting and supporting the resistance to the East German regime that eventually resulted in its toppling.  Again, by the traditional markers of adherents and attendees, the East German churches were diminishing… but by this measure, they were succeeding in the ways that truly matter.


And now for some photos…


Click for general pictures from Berlin

 


Click for pictures from the Berliner Dom

 



Click for pictures from the St. Nicholai Church,
including a special art exhibit for Reformation 500

 


Click for pictures from the Topography of Terorr museum,
including a special exhibit for Reformation 500

 

 

Leave a Reply