In prison, Dietrich soon began moving – sometimes at a dizzying pace – into radically new ideas. As my wife’s crippling fight with multiple sclerosis ‘imprisoned’ her . . . and me, I pored over Letters and Papers from Prison and imagined returning again and again to Dietrich’s prison cell for conversation about such ideas as:
I sometimes feel a real craving for an evening of music. . . . The mind’s hunger for discussion is much more tormenting than the body’s hunger for food. (9 November 1943; 25 December 1943)
There are two ways of dealing psychically with adversities. One way, the easier, is to try to ignore them; that is about as far as I have gotten. The other and more difficult way is to face them deliberately and overcome them; I’m not equal to that yet, but one must learn to do it, for the first way is a slight . . . piece of self-deception. (5 December 1943)
It’s possible to get used to physical hardships, and to live for months out of the body, so to speak – almost too much so – but one doesn’t get used to the psychological strain; on the contrary, I have the feeling that everything that I see and hear is putting years on me, and I’m often finding the world nauseating and burdensome. . . . I often wonder who I really am – the man who goes on squirming under these ghastly experiences in wretchedness with cries to heaven, or the man who scourges himself and pretends to others (and even to himself) that he is placid, cheerful, composed, and in control of himself, and who allows people to admire him for it . . . (15 December 1943)
But isn’t it characteristic of a man, in contrast to an immature person, that his center of gravity is always where he actually is, and that the longing for the fulfillment of his wishes cannot prevent him from being his whole self, wherever he happens to be? . . . He may have his longings, but he keeps them out of sight, and somehow masters them. And the more he has to overcome in order to live fully in the present, the more he will have the respect and confidence of his fellows, especially the younger ones who are still on the road that he has already traveled. (19 March 1944)
The time when people could be told everything by means of words, whether theological or pious, is over . . . . We are moving toward a completely religionless time. . . . It means . . . that there remain only a few ‘last survivors of the age of chivalry’, or a few intellectually dishonest people, on whom we can descend as ‘religious’. Are they to be the chosen few? Is it on this dubious group of people that we are to pounce in fervor, pique, or indignation, in order to sell them our goods? . . . If we don’t want to do all that, . . . what kind of situation emerges for us? (30 April 1944)
And we cannot be honest unless we recognize that we have to live in the world etsi deus non daretur. And this is just what we do recognize – before God! . . . The God who lets us live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before whom we stand continually. Before God and with God we live without God. . . . The world that has come of age is more godless, and perhaps for that very reason nearer to God, than the world before its coming of age. (16 July 1944)
I remember a conversation that I had in America thirteen years ago with a young French pastor. We were asking ourselves quite simply what we wanted to do with our lives. He said he would like to become a saint . . . . At the time I was very impressed, but I disagreed with him, and said, in effect, that I should like to learn to have faith. . . . I discovered later, and I’m still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself. . . . By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. . . . How can success make us arrogant or failure lead us astray when we share in God’s sufferings through a life of this kind? (21 July 1944)
Dietrich forsook escape in 1939. He shared fully in his fellow conspirators’ resolve to strike – violently, if necessary -- at an evil head of state. He maintained his cover and theirs in prison. He dared to let go every idea that had collapsed under the weight of horrific evil and human suffering. He sketched in isolation the electric new ways he had begun to see. He hung naked from the gallows, dead at thirty-nine years of age.
Shocked, confused, disappointed, offended, threatened, . . . – such reactions to Dietrich’s prison ideas and his brutal execution as a traitor soon surfaced even among friends and students with whom he labored before 1939. Here is what I see. His integrity, firm. His optimism, resilient. His gratitude, unfailing. His ‘religionless’ faith, just beginning to form. His death, humiliating. His defeat, honorable.
I had the privilege of participating in Eberhard’s 90th birthday celebration (August 1999). After returning to the hotel from the Bethges’ home, I shared a glass of wine with the other American in attendance. Thirty years earlier, he had been a founding member of the International Bonhoeffer Society. As we explained our experiences with Dietrich’s life and thought, I began to describe the collaborations I have enjoyed with a small but courageous circle of physicians within the medical sphere who are resolved to practice medicine humanely and with a resolute social conscience. At one point, he broke in with the observation, “I see what you and your physician friends are . . . conspirators!” When I later checked the etymology (i.e., conspirare, to breathe together), I realized even more fully that so we are.
I sometimes feel a real craving for an evening of music. . . . The mind’s hunger for discussion is much more tormenting than the body’s hunger for food. (9 November 1943; 25 December 1943)
There are two ways of dealing psychically with adversities. One way, the easier, is to try to ignore them; that is about as far as I have gotten. The other and more difficult way is to face them deliberately and overcome them; I’m not equal to that yet, but one must learn to do it, for the first way is a slight . . . piece of self-deception. (5 December 1943)
It’s possible to get used to physical hardships, and to live for months out of the body, so to speak – almost too much so – but one doesn’t get used to the psychological strain; on the contrary, I have the feeling that everything that I see and hear is putting years on me, and I’m often finding the world nauseating and burdensome. . . . I often wonder who I really am – the man who goes on squirming under these ghastly experiences in wretchedness with cries to heaven, or the man who scourges himself and pretends to others (and even to himself) that he is placid, cheerful, composed, and in control of himself, and who allows people to admire him for it . . . (15 December 1943)
But isn’t it characteristic of a man, in contrast to an immature person, that his center of gravity is always where he actually is, and that the longing for the fulfillment of his wishes cannot prevent him from being his whole self, wherever he happens to be? . . . He may have his longings, but he keeps them out of sight, and somehow masters them. And the more he has to overcome in order to live fully in the present, the more he will have the respect and confidence of his fellows, especially the younger ones who are still on the road that he has already traveled. (19 March 1944)
The time when people could be told everything by means of words, whether theological or pious, is over . . . . We are moving toward a completely religionless time. . . . It means . . . that there remain only a few ‘last survivors of the age of chivalry’, or a few intellectually dishonest people, on whom we can descend as ‘religious’. Are they to be the chosen few? Is it on this dubious group of people that we are to pounce in fervor, pique, or indignation, in order to sell them our goods? . . . If we don’t want to do all that, . . . what kind of situation emerges for us? (30 April 1944)
And we cannot be honest unless we recognize that we have to live in the world etsi deus non daretur. And this is just what we do recognize – before God! . . . The God who lets us live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before whom we stand continually. Before God and with God we live without God. . . . The world that has come of age is more godless, and perhaps for that very reason nearer to God, than the world before its coming of age. (16 July 1944)
I remember a conversation that I had in America thirteen years ago with a young French pastor. We were asking ourselves quite simply what we wanted to do with our lives. He said he would like to become a saint . . . . At the time I was very impressed, but I disagreed with him, and said, in effect, that I should like to learn to have faith. . . . I discovered later, and I’m still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself. . . . By this-worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. . . . How can success make us arrogant or failure lead us astray when we share in God’s sufferings through a life of this kind? (21 July 1944)
Dietrich forsook escape in 1939. He shared fully in his fellow conspirators’ resolve to strike – violently, if necessary -- at an evil head of state. He maintained his cover and theirs in prison. He dared to let go every idea that had collapsed under the weight of horrific evil and human suffering. He sketched in isolation the electric new ways he had begun to see. He hung naked from the gallows, dead at thirty-nine years of age.
Shocked, confused, disappointed, offended, threatened, . . . – such reactions to Dietrich’s prison ideas and his brutal execution as a traitor soon surfaced even among friends and students with whom he labored before 1939. Here is what I see. His integrity, firm. His optimism, resilient. His gratitude, unfailing. His ‘religionless’ faith, just beginning to form. His death, humiliating. His defeat, honorable.
I had the privilege of participating in Eberhard’s 90th birthday celebration (August 1999). After returning to the hotel from the Bethges’ home, I shared a glass of wine with the other American in attendance. Thirty years earlier, he had been a founding member of the International Bonhoeffer Society. As we explained our experiences with Dietrich’s life and thought, I began to describe the collaborations I have enjoyed with a small but courageous circle of physicians within the medical sphere who are resolved to practice medicine humanely and with a resolute social conscience. At one point, he broke in with the observation, “I see what you and your physician friends are . . . conspirators!” When I later checked the etymology (i.e., conspirare, to breathe together), I realized even more fully that so we are.
