Tag Archives: history

Resistance in the Christian Tradition – Episode 2, Nazi Holocaust: Resisting Extreme Social Sin

See Episode 1 – Introduction

I am sharing excerpts from my theological research on the Ethics of Resistance to Social Sin. In Episode 2, I share critical learnings from the experience of ordinary Christians resisting the death dealing reality of the Nazi regime in Germany and occupied territories. One major finding is that identity constrains the menu of moral choice. So how you see yourself, and the world, matters! Will you be a bystander who feels they are one person alone and can’t make a difference? A perpetrator/supporter who lashes out preemptively? Or a resister/rescuer who understands we all have agency to effect change and incorporate human dignity into your worldview? The choice my friends is ours!

NAZI HOLOCAUST: RESISTING EXTREME SOCIAL SIN
The metanarrative of the Nazi Holocaust rightly focuses on the violence, repression, and death-dealing atrocities committed against millions of innocent people in the name of National Socialism and its corresponding ideology. Yet, there is another narrative, sometimes neglected, which is also set within Nazi Germany and the territories it occupied by force. It is the story of ordinary people—farmers, college students, and average citizens—who resisted the Nazi regime from within their own spheres of influence, frequently paying for their resistance with their own lives.

To be sure, many Germans supported Adolf Hitler and company when they assumed power, while others chose a position on the sidelines. As of 1941, the majority of the population had not become members of the Nazi party or its organizations. What is less well known is the story of the thousands of people arrested or executed for acts of resistance: 300,000 German political resisters were in prison by 1939; 5,000 active resisters were executed; and 15,000 members of the military were killed for desertion or other actions deemed subversive. (Kidder, vii-viii)

Mark A. Wolfgam asserts that, behind these numbers, one can discern still other “very ordinary Germans [who] were able to carry out meaningful acts of resistance.” The reason these acts of resistance by ordinary persons are not well known, at least in part, is because in the immediate decades after the war, resistance narratives “were focused primarily upon heroic elite resistance.” More recent efforts to collect oral histories from the wider population who survived the war, however, have illustrated that many ordinary people “sought to work for the end of the regime in more limited and private ways.” (Wolfgam, 202-203)

Those who sought to resist this extreme reality of social sin were faced with an overarching bureaucratic machine that impacted and controlled many facets of daily life. Hence, the path to resistance was not an easy one, nor was it easy to sustain.

“Sometimes a single gesture was all that could be dared. The range of actions that constitute resistance is very broad, encompassing flight, hiding, sheltering those in danger, participating in forbidden activities, maintaining a sense of humanity in a dehumanizing environment, and engaging in military or quasi-military actions that would physically harm the Nazi machine.” (Gurewitsch, 221)

Some, like Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian farmer beatified by the Catholic Church in 2007, resisted military involvement all together. Jägerstätter was beheaded in 1943 for his refusal to serve in the Nazi military, despite repeated counsel to the contrary by Church officials.
(Kidder, 34) He wrote of his discernment to resist: “Does it still bear witness to Christian love of neighbor if I commit an act, which I truly regard as evil and very unjust, and yet I continue to commit the act because otherwise I would suffer either physical or economic harm?” (Putz, 70)1

Other ordinary people sought to transform the social context by raising consciousness and conscience regarding the atrocities of the Nazi regime. In Munich, Germany, a group of college students calling themselves the White Rose Society widely distributed six strongly worded leaflets “to encourage passive resistance to the Nazi regime by unmasking its evil.” (Kidder, 34) They asked: “Why do the German people behave so apathetically in the face of all these abominable crimes, crimes so unworthy of the human race?” (White Rose Society, “Second Leaflet”) In February 1942, after being caught in the act of distributing the sixth leaflet on the campus of the University of Munich, siblings Hans and Sophie Scholl were arrested, sentenced with high treason, and executed. Other White Rose Society members were later executed. (Michalczyk and Müller, 49)

Seven months after the arrest of the Scholl siblings, thousands of ordinary people in Denmark managed a remarkable act of resistance on a grand scale. Within two days of a leaked announcement of a Nazi plan to round up the Danish Jewish population en masse—around 7,000 people—on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, “most Jews had succeeding in finding refuge with other Danes or in going into hiding.” They were helped by “thousands of unknown individuals” across the wide spectrum of Danish society. Still other Danes “knew what was going on, from neighbors to the staff on trains to the Danish police, and did not tell the Germans.” Within two months, most Danish Jews had escaped via small fishing boats to safety in neutral Sweden. (Trautner-Kromann, 91-93)

The contemporary reader, reflecting on what is now known of the extent of the atrocities of the Nazi holocaust and the probable cost for these acts of resistance, might be forgiven for thinking that these ordinary resisters were extraordinary, if not heroic. Andrew Michael Flescher contends that even those named “heroes” are both “ordinary and extraordinary.” They are extraordinary in that they “perform considerable altruistic actions at great costs,” yet they are ordinary because “they affirm rather than transcend their humanity.” 2 (Flescher, 154-155)

Reflecting on his own study of oral histories by ordinary Germans who resisted the Nazi regime, Wolfgam observes that “these acts of resistance … open new questions as to why more was not done.” (Wolfgam, 216-217) This key ethical question has relevance beyond the Nazi holocaust, to contemporary genocide, and to individual and collective response to other forms of social sin. It is helpful to ask the reverse of this key question: what was it that enabled thousands of ordinary people to counter the dehumanization of the Nazi regime through acts of resistance to extreme social sin in their daily lives?

Political psychologist Kristen Renwick Monroe offers a critical insight on this reverse question of motive. Analyzing extensive interviews with rescuers, bystanders, and Nazi supporters to examine their “diverse responses to Genocide,” Monroe concludes that “identity constrains choice” across all three groups. (Monroe, 190) In other words, one’s identity—in relation to self, other, world, and agency—radically influences one’s ethical response and actions. (Monroe, 245) She proposes thinking of one’s identity as providing a “cognitive menu” of moral choice. “Acts not on the cognitive menu are not considered, just as pizza is not an option in a Japanese restaurant.” (Monroe, 200)

Monroe found that bystanders “saw themselves as weak, low on efficacy, with little control over the situation.” (Monroe, 193) Their common response was: “But what could I do? I was one person alone against the Nazis.” (Monroe, 214) Supporters of the Nazi regime, paradoxically, saw themselves as victims, “besieged by threats to their well-being.” (Monroe, 197) They were willing to strike “preemptively” at target groups out of a perceived need for self preservation. (Monroe, 200) They also perceived themselves as constrained by “forces beyond human control that drive world events.” (Monroe, 214) By contrast, Monroe found that rescuers saw themselves as “connected with everyone” and able to effect change. (Monroe, 192) Notably, she also discovered that they were the only group who “had integrated the value of human life into their worldview.” Monroe believes that her findings suggest that identity constitutes “the force that moves us beyond generalized feelings of sympathy, sorrow, or even outrage to a sense of moral imperative…” Finally, she encourages “other scholars to test” her results in various contexts. (Monroe, 247) It seems clear that a key question from her findings for the field of ethics, particularly as it regards the response to contemporary and enduring forms of social sin, is how to broaden the menu of moral choice.

Next Up in the Series – Episode 3, Contemporary Resistance in Everyday Actions


1 Putz is a biographer and editor of the writings of Jägerstatter. She does not cite the exact source of this quotation.

2 Emphasis in the original text.

Sources

Andrew Michael Flescher, Heroes, Saints and Ordinary Morality (Washington, DC: Georgetown University, 2003)

Brana Gurewitsch, ed., Mothers, Sisters, Resisters: Oral Histories of Women Who Survived the Holocaust (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of Alabama Press, 1998)

Annemarie S. Kidder, Ultimate Price: Testimonies of Christians Who Resisted the Third Reich (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2012)

John J. Michalczyk and Franz J. Müller, “The White Rose Student Movement in Germany: Its History and Relevance Today,” in Resisters, Rescuers, and Refugees: Historical and Ethical Issues, ed. John J. Michalczyk (Kansas City: Sheed & Ward, 1997)

Kristen Renwick Monroe, Ethics in an Age of Terror and Genocide: Identity and Moral Choice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012)

Erna Putz, “Franz Jägerstatter: Better the Hands in Chains than the Will,” in Christianity and Resistance in the 20th Century (Boston: Brill, 2009)

Hanne Trautner-Kromann, “The Role of Moral Examples in Teaching Ethics after the Holocaust,” in The Double Binds of Ethics After the Holocaust: Salvaging the Fragments, eds. Jennifer L. Geddes, John K. Roth, and Jules Simon (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009),

White Rose Society, “Second Leaflet,” 1942. https://www.white-rose-studies.org/pages/leaflet-2

Mark A. Wolfgam, “Rediscovering Narratives of German Resistance: Opposing the Nazi ‘Terror-State,” Rethinking History 10 (June 2006)

Excerpt from: “Human Trafficking as Social Sin: An Ethic of Resistance,” by Susan Rose Francois, CSJP. Submitted to the Faculty of The Catholic Theological Union at Chicago in partial fulfillment of the requirement for the degree of Masters of Arts in Theology, March 2015.

Re-membering our history

My latest contribution to the conversation was posted today on Global Sisters Report where I reflect on my childhood connection to land where children, men, and women were enslaved by the Catholic Church – on grounds where I prayed during my confirmation retreat as a 13 year old.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1285) quotes from Pope Paul VI’s 1964 Lumen Gentium (11) when speaking of the power and promise of the sacrament of confirmation. Shortly after that retreat, my classmates and I received the sacrament through which we were meant to be “more perfectly bound to the Church.” Which church, I now found myself wondering? The church that enslaved generations of human beings for profit? The church that hid or ignored this history for convenience? Or the church that re-members — finds and claims those who have been lost — and seeks reconciliation and restorative justice?

It is important to re-member those who were lost in the telling of our history, to bring them into the whole fabric of our story, the good and the bad. We are better for the bringing together of all the members of our human family into our memories. The first step is telling the truth, no matter how hard it is to face. 

Visit Global Sisters Report to read the entire column – “Re-membering History is painful, but necessary”

St. Edith Stein, pray for us … a Saint for these times

I have long been haunted by a quote by Edith Stein, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Carmelite nun, Jewish daughter and sister, philosopher, one time atheist, convert, contemplative, martyr of Auschwitz .

“Nowadays I always feel transported into Napoleonic times, and I can imagine in what tension people lived then everywhere in Europe. I wonder: will we live to see the events of our days become ‘history’? I have a great desire to see all this sometime in the light of eternity. For one realizes ever more clearly how blind we are toward everything. One marvels at how mistakenly one viewed a lot of things before, and yet the very next moment one commits the blunder again of forming an opinion without having the necessary basis for it.” Edith Stein: A Self-Portrait in Letters, quoted in the People’s Companion to the Breviary.

This quote is included in the office book published by the Carmelites of Indianapolis. It is the reading for Week IV, Friday, evening prayer. The first time I heard this read during community prayer when I was a candidate back in 2005, my heart stopped. I didn’t know much about Edith Stein, except that she had been killed in a concentration camp. But it led me to learn more about her, which only made the quote that much more powerful.

When she was a professor of philosophy she studied the problem of empathy. Writing in 1925–the same year that Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf was published–she proposed that the capacity for empathy ensures “openness among human beings” rather than separation or alienation. She engaged in her philosophical study of this capacity for empathy because she believed it “to be descriptive of human reality and the foundation needed for productive action” for life in the human community.

Now, on this sad day almost 100 years later, a day which our nation’s present leader has chosen to round up children, women and men–largely of one ethnic group–transporting them to camps, separating families and causing terror to thousands of people, I cannot help but ask for her intercession.

Nowadays, I sometimes feel transported to her times. And it is a scary time to be, one that rocks one’s faith in humanity and causes one to cry out to the heavens. What tension we live in today. Are we complicit? Are we bystanders? Or do we stand on the right side of history, crying out “Not in My Name,” and acting on behalf of human dignity?

And then of course there is today’s Gospel reading, the Good Samaritan, which makes it crystal clear what we are to do. What sad twisted irony that the raids against our immigrant brothers and sisters are set to begin today when this Gospel is proclaimed in churches across our nation. Of course, no doubt, many families are staying away from church today, afraid that they might be swept up, no matter what their legal status. And others listen with deaf ears.

Today, the Carmelite Nuns of Great Britain shared a quote from Edith Stein on their Twitter account in which she reflects on today’s Gospel reading.

“‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ This commandment is valid unconditionally and without qualification. The neighbour is not the one whom I ‘like’ but any and every human being with whom I come into contact, without exception.”

Without exception. Unconditional. Without qualification.

When Edith Stein was arrested by the Gestapo in 1942 in the chapel of her monastery in the Netherlands and taken to a transit camp for deportation, eventually to Auschwitz, she commented: “I never knew that people could be like this, neither did I know that my brothers and sisters would have to suffer like this. … I pray for them every hour. Will God hear my prayers? He will certainly hear them in their distress.” 

When she arrived at Auschwitz, she ministered to God’s people in distress, even as she was one among them.

“It was Edith Stein’s complete calm and self-possession that marked her out from the rest of the prisoners. There was a spirit of indescribable misery in the camp; the new prisoners, especially suffered from extreme anxiety. Edith Stein went among the women like an angel, comforting, helping, and consoling them. Many of the mothers were on the brink of insanity and had sat moaning for days, without giving any thought to their children. She immediately set about taking care of these little ones. She washed them, combed their hair, and tried to make sure they were fed and cared for.” –Edith Stein,  A Biography, quoted on Carmelites of Boston website.

And so I pray.

St. Edith Stein, Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, you who studied empathy, lived a life of compassionate love, pray for us. Inspire empathy, respect for human dignity, and action for justice. Lead those of us who might become bystanders instead to solidarity and compassionate love. Help us to pray for conversion of heart in those who wield their power without enough apparent capacity for empathy or neighborliness. Most of all, be with those who suffer. Comfort the mothers, fathers and children facing inhumanity in these dark times. Pray for us all, that our hearts may become wider, wide enough to encompass all our neighbors, unconditionally and without exception. Amen.