Tag Archives: politics

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.

The Dignity of Love and Public Service

Today would have been my parents’ sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. Theirs was a partnership that was grounded in their love of God, one another, and all of God’s people, especially those who are experiencing poverty. This morning in prayer, as I reflected on what is happening in our country and to the very weft and weave of our democracy, I give thanks for all they taught me through their example about the dignity of love and public service. I am also calling for their intercession for our country at this time.

They both began their careers in public service before they met. My Dad came to Washington from Iowa in 1956 to work at the US Patent Office before going to law school at George Washington University. My mom grew up in the DC Suburbs and worked in office administration for the Department of Justice before working for NATO in Europe (Yes, she was in Paris in the 1950s!).

In my Dad’s memoir, Me? I’m from Iowa, he shares how during their courtship and after they were married, they talked about faith and politics, which were always intertwined throughout their lives.

“After meeting in May, we went out a lot. And we talked, and talked. Starting with religion, we discussed why we were both Catholic, and found that we had some devotions in common. We talked about international issues, Communism and its failings, and the need to get involved in politics. Following up on the political discussions we had during our dating and while on our honeymoon, we said now is the time to move ahead.”

Over the course of their marriage, my parents participated in the political campaigns of others and for my Dad’s own campaigns for local elected office. Dad served as an elected judge and later member of the County Council for several decades, before moving into transportation policy at the state and federal level. Mom worked on the staff of members of Congress and in the area of social work to support incarcerated people. Throughout it all, they were guided by their faith and the Gospel call to seek justice, especially for the most vulnerable.

My siblings and I grew up with the expectation that it was our responsibility to leave the world a better place than we found it, and most importantly to use our God given gifts in service of the common good. We learned first hand the promise and possibility of good government to make systemic change in support of human dignity, such as when my Dad helped to pass fair housing laws and desegregate the public schools. We saw how important it is to use our voice and influence to advocate for justice, such as when my Mom joined protests organized against discriminatory housing sales practices in our town. There are so many more examples of their witness in action. It is no coincidence that at one point or another, all of their five children worked directly in public service.

Me in the corner at the feet of my Mom (Left), as my Dad (Right) talks with Senator Barbara Mikulski at a political event

During these times, I am feeling the pull to call on our Cloud of Witnesses. This morning I am asking my parents to pray for our country, for all public servants who are under attack, for the health of our democracy, and for those who are already being impacted by the takeover of government agencies and the rapid dismantling of life-saving programs. Eileen Schmelzer Francois and Frank Francois, pray for us.

Peace in the midst of turmoil and anxiety

Today is our CSJP Community Day of Thanksgiving – marking our 137th anniverary. It is also the day after the shameful insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. I shared the following reflection on today’s liturgical readings during our word and communion service today.

During the many tumultuous moments of 2020–the coronavirus pandemic, political upheaval, the beginning of our belated recokoning with white supremacy, and so much more — I found myself wondering what things would be like if people truly understood themselves, and everyone else, as beloved children of God.

In today’s first reading, John tell us it is so. “Beloved, we love God because God first loved us.”

Morover, John says, “we know that we love the children of God when we love God and obey God’s commandments.”

Is it really that simple?

God loves us. We love God.
God loves everyone. We love everyone.
God loves all of creation. We love all of creation.

It really is that simple, and yet, we humans make it so much more complicated. Just look to what happened yesterday in our Nation’s capital.

The Gospel gives us a clear roadmap for our response in times like these as we follow Jesus. Jesus calls us to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free. Jesus calls us to love as we seek peace.

Even amidst the chaos of political events, even in the difficult moments of our own lives, we, God’s beloved, are called to love one another and hold fast to the path to peace.

Our Lady Chapel
St. Barnabas Cathedral

137 years ago today, in Nottingham, England, Bishop Edward Gilpin Bagshawe presided in Our Lady Chapel, St. Barnabas Cathedral, as the first Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace professed their vows. This is a day for which we give thanks for the gift of community and God’s blessings for our community.

Listen to the words that Bishop Bagshawe shared with our first Sisters:

“Our Divine Lord is called the Prince of Peace, and He gave peace to his disciples as his special gift, saying, ‘Peace be with you.’ … To secure this divine peace for ourselves, to procure its blessings for others in the midst of the sin and strife and turmoil and restless anxiety of this modern world is the object of your institute.”

He said those words on January 7, 1884.

Just imagine what Bishop Bagshawe would have thought of the turmoil that unfolded yesterday in Washington, D.C., or the restless anxiety so many felt as they watched our democracy be threatened like never before in our lifetimes.

We, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, are called to procure the blessings of peace in the midst of times such as these.

The psalmist apparently knew about the type of turmoil that happened at the Capitol Building yesterday.

“From fraud and violence he shall redeem them
and precious shall their blood be in their sight.
May they be prayed for continually;
Day by Day shall they bless them.”

We are blessed with our charism of peace, not in spite of the restless anxiety and turmoil of our modern world, but because of it, for it.

And we believe that peace is possible, that peace points beyond itself in time.

Let us join our hearts and prayers for our community, church, nation, world, and Earth. That we may spread the blessings of peace, in faith, hope and love. That peace may come. That we may truly understand ourselves, and help others to understand themselves and everyone else, as beloved of God.

Speaking truth to the Speaker

My latest Global Sisters Report column has been posted. This time it is an open letter to House Speaker, Representative Paul Ryan, sharing my concerns about the proposed federal budget.

Here’s a snippet:

In your conversation with Sister Erica on CNN, you shared your appreciation for the model of Catholic organizations that help the poor. You expressed that they do a “fantastic job in spite of government doing wraparound benefits for the poor to make sure that they get to where they are — from where they are to where they need to be.”

My religious congregation, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Peace, sponsors and supports nonprofit services for low-income women in Jersey City, New Jersey, and Seattle with a similar model. Both the York Street Project and Jubilee Women’s Center provide such wraparound services, treat the whole person, and assist the women they serve on their journey to self-sufficiency.

I found it interesting that you referenced the year 1985 in your response to Sister Erica, because that is around the time my sisters started both these innovative programs.

I agree with you that we need to encourage and support such programs, but as partners with government, not replacements for our civic duty to promote the general welfare. Such programs do not do a fantastic job in spite of government, but in tandem with life-giving government programs like the Community Development Block Grants (CDBG), which are in jeopardy in the budget proposals under consideration. At the York Street Project, for example, CDBG funds support the job readiness program at Kenmare High School, helping women who previously dropped out of the public school system to find jobs that will support their families.

Visit Global Sisters Report to read the entire letter.

Love > Fear

This morning, after reading much disheartening news on the domestic and international front over breakfast, I spent some quiet time with today’s Scripture readings and my friend Julia Walsh, FSPA’s latest Global Sisters Report column.

In Hosea, I read: “What can I do with you, Ephraim? What can I do with you, Judah? Your piety is like a morning cloud, like the dew that early passes away … For it is love that I desire, not sacrifice, and knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.”

In Julia’s column, I read: “In this fearful age, God can transform all of us and the ways we feel about each other. We can love in radical ways, guided by our faith that each of us — even the person who scares us the most — are truly children of God deserving to be loved and cherished. Then, freed from the fears that plague our conversations, news, and dynamics, we can powerfully love one another just as God has loved us, sharing transformative mercy and hope.”

Both can be summed up by this equation:

love-greater-than-fear

Worthy of meditation and practice, I think.

It is also important for me to stay abreast of current news and the currents of political discourse. But I can’t let that weigh me down. Fear is not stronger than love. Suffering is not insurmountable. Hatred is a symptom of broken relationships and isolation. We are called to something greater, to community and connection.

We must give voice to love in the face of fear, through our words, our actions, our hopes and desires. Not just in the quiet contemplative moments but in all of our interactions and in our ordinary lives. That is how change happens and how love spreads to dispel fear. Don’t you think?