Bonhoeffer, friendship and Novalis’s blue flower

cornflowers cluster

In his Letters and Papers from Prison, Bonhoeffer famously refers to friendship as the cornflower blooming between the straight rows of the “fertile wheat” of the mandates, those human institutions of marriage, work, government and church that in Lutheran theology come down to humans from God. The gentle cornflower image, occurring to Bonhoeffer as he sat in a dank prison cell, no doubt harkens back to his youth, wandering the fields around Griefswald with newly-married Sabine or earlier still, gleaning wheat on his von Hase cousins’ and other nearby farms during the “hunger days” of World War I. More pointedly, it describes his adult friendship with Eberhard Bethge, a relationship that animated and brought great joy to the last decade of his life.

Anticipating release from prison and hence threatened with displacement by Bethge’s marriage (the marriage took place two weeks before Bonhoeffer’s arrest in a civil ceremony and six weeks after the arrest in a religious ceremony that to the family marked the real marriage), Bonhoeffer used the cornflower to insist on friendship’s importance: “Does one not leave the cornflower in place next to the fertile wheat? Does one pull it up because it is not necessary for life?” (DBWE 8)

wheat in field

Sadly, this very image speaks to anachronism, another time and place, for pesticides have largely eradicated the brilliant blue blooms that once blossomed in the fertile spaces between rows of grain, and in the United States, at least, we are not accustomed to see clusters of blue blooming between crops.

The cornflower has many symbolic resonances: it was a symbol of Germany, and the flower, also called bachelor’s button, symbolized contentment with unmarried life, according to Most interestingly, Bonhoeffer references Novalis, the German Romantic writer, on May 1, 1943, early in his prison stay. A blue flower, possibly a cornflower, is an image in Novalis’s  Heinrich von Ofterdingen, where Heinrich longs above all else to reach an unattainable blossom that he sees in a vision: “A tall, pale blue flower … stood beside the spring … He saw nothing but the blue flower.” (quoted from Jennifer Hoyer, The Space of Words.) We don’t know if Novalis’s image sprang to his mind during Bonhoeffer’s May 1 musings, but we know he deeply missed Bethge, and it’s not impossible he conflated his longing to see his friend with Novalis’s mystical blue flower.

cornflower single

In his poem “The Friend,” Bonhoeffer uses the cornflower as an extended metaphor to describe friendship’s beauty and strength. The poem, in which he reflects on his past after the failure of the July 20, 1944 assassination plot against Hilter, shows Bonhoeffer both appreciating what has gone before and reconciling himself to death. Entwined in it is a tribute to Sabine, his first friend and always dearly beloved twin: “Playmates at first /on the spirit’s long journeys/into wondrous,/far away realms…” (DBWE 8).  The emphasis of the poem, however, falls on Bethge.

Friendship remained supremely important to Bonhoeffer throughout his life and should perhaps be highlighted as a point of light and color against a grim period of church struggle, resistance, assassination attempts and death. To end even more firmly on friendship, I repeat a Joseph Addison quote noted by my own cyber-friend, Ellen Moody:

“But the mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the conversation of a well-chosen friend. There is indeed no blessing of life that is any way comparable to the enjoyment of a discreet and virtuous friend. It eases and unloads the mind. clears and improves the understanding, engenders thoughts and knowledge, animates virtue and resolutions, soothes and allays the passions, and finds employment for most of the vacant hours of life.”

I am sure Bonhoeffer would agree. What are your thoughts on Bonhoeffer and friendship?

Sigurdshof, Bonhoeffer, and Incarnational Education

This piece is posted on behalf of the author, Paul R. House, at Beeson Divinity School, Samford University.

During the harsh winter of 1939-40 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eberhard Bethge, and eight candidates for ministry in the Confessing Church lived and studied together during the tenth and final session of Bonhoeffer’s seminary work. This was one of Bonhoeffer and the Confessing Church’s shining moments. There was no prestige to be gained, no careers to be made from the venture. War had begun, and the future did not hold promising outcomes for these men or their church. All that remained was perseverance born of fidelity, faithfulness, fellowship, theology, and visible witness. These are hallmarks of good incarnational education, not the last vestiges of a noble lost cause.

Sigurdshof was the most isolated of Bonhoeffer’s seminary sites. Finkenwalde was a very small place, but at least it had a train stop. Gross-Schlonwitz was a village, but at least it had running water. Sigurdshof had neither. It was a house in the woods on a large estate owned by a seminary supporter. Though secluded the house was not secret, for Bethge notes that army induction officials knew where it was. Local officials at least waited until the term ended before shutting it down.


In this rural setting Bonhoeffer preached, led the students in studies of Psalm 119, wrote meditations on Christmas, Epiphany, and the Lord’s Supper, taught on marriage, wrote numerous letters, and continued life together practices with the students. Heavy snow kept him from traveling as much as he had during previous terms. His writing on Psalm 119 indicates a growing appreciation for creation and his dependence on and debt to it. Quiet suited him. Or at least it helped him grow deeper in permanent disciplines.

This quiet life with colleagues and students was every bit as much a visible witness of the body of Christ as what he did in Berlin, Finkenwalde, and Flossenburg. The Sigurdshof session presented an opportunity for unusual fidelity to Christ’s call to discipleship. It gave close fellowship, no doubt too close at times. Moreover, it gave men preparing to serve under harsh conditions the time to examine Psalm 119, a text absolutely compatible with their needs. It gave all of them the chance to keep doing the right thing when this seemed hopeless, pointless. In short, it offered an opportunity for this small band of Confessing Church pastors and their housekeeper, Erna Struwe, to take up the cross and follow Christ, to engage in discipleship.

In our “age of disincarnation” (Wendell Berry, Sabbaths 2013[Monterey, KY: Larkspur Press, 2015], 29), those of us involved in seminary education might do well to consider this usually overlooked segment Bonhoeffer’s life. When educational experts ignore or deny the inextricable link between formation and human interaction we might do well to reflect on Christmas, Epiphany, and the Lord’s Supper. When numbers and donations are small we might consider a cheaper rural option and be willing to carry water. Where churches are tiny but honorable, we might prepare pastors at a high level for the elect. Where tyranny grows and martyrdom awaits we might take courage from Psalm 119 and stalwart people. In short, we might put incarnational principles into practice.

Sigurdshof grips my imagination because it was a real place inhabited by real people. What its inhabitants did there still testifies to seminary teachers and students of what is right and good and useful to do. It seemed small, and it was, though not too small for people whose minds were on Christ, who died among thieves and rose in the presence of stunned Roman soldiers.

A response to Schlingensiepen on Metaxas and Marsh

Having just completed a book on Dietrich Bonhoeffer and woman, I feel compelled to respond to Ferdinand Schlingensiepen’s review on this blog of Metaxas’s and Marsh’s biographies.

First, as Schlingensiepen must know–and his biography, witty and well-informed, is one of the best–writing a biography of Bonhoeffer must be one of life’s more daunting feats. I realized in writing my own the impossibility of cramming such an immensely full life in the  300-500-page format publishers expect. Even Bethge’s byzantine 1,000-page biography omits huge amounts of personal material, especially about the women in Bonhoeffer’s life, a piece of the puzzle integral for understanding a figure for whom the personal and the theological were so tightly intertwined.

After dealing with errors in every book about Bonhoeffer I read, including, I might say, Schlingensiepen’s and Bethge’s, I realized that the fault lies perhaps not entirely in the biographer’s stars but in a genre that insists on a single volume, standard size life. Condensing a life as complicated and multivalent as Bonhoeffer’s leads to distorting it–and this lends itself to omissions that can become blunders. Further, to condemn a writer for leaving out parts of Bonhoeffer’s life with fewer than 500 pages to work with is to condemn him or her for doing the inevitable: it is tantamount to condemning a person for not working four forty-hour a week jobs.

Given the complexity of Bonhoeffer’s life, we all need to read multiple biographies and primary sources to gain a multi-faceted understanding of Bonhoeffer. More to the point, the world of Bonhoeffer scholarship cries out for a day-by-day, blow-by-blow multi-volume Bonhoeffer biography similar to those we have for figures such as Henry James. I can’t even begin to discuss how much time I spent simply unraveling timelines–those in the Works are very helpful but incomplete– in order to figure out where major players in my book were when.

So first, it would be most helpful to have a multi-volume companion biography to the Works. This would allow writers to devote their energies to concentrating on discrete pieces of Bonhoeffer’s life.

All that being said, I agree that the Metaxas biography was largely a biographical fiction, though I would contend it largely repeats the “heroic narrative” that is standard Bonhoeffer fare: it is the book that people want to read, that mirrors back to them their own desire for a pillar saint. I find it difficult, however, to lump it with Marsh’s book: I dismissed Metaxas and would not use him as a source: Marsh is so much better I would hesitate to conflate him with Metaxas.

Marsh’s biography, though breathtakingly beautifully written, stymied me as I couldn’t track sources from it, and I decided to stop judging it for being what it is not: it is not a pedantically fact-based account of Bonhoeffer’s life. Instead, I found it a lyrical meditation on Bonhoeffer written by someone well steeped in primary sources. Yes, yes, the moment where Marsh insists that Ruth von Kleist-Retzow was dismayed at the engagement between Maria and Dietrich is a point where Marsh gets the story wrong–but Marsh is hardly alone in his misreading of the women in Bonhoeffer’s life. And I appreciated Marsh for having a point of view that dared to deviate from the party line.

As I blogged at my website, in a post entitled “On Biography” –(, Marsh’s Bonhoeffer is not my Bonhoeffer. Nor is anyone else’s Bonhoeffer my own. A biography inevitably becomes a merging of one person’s with another person’s consciousness, one person’s time with another person’s time, one person’s nationality with another’s. We inevitably will distort: we can’t not do so. The question  underlying biography–how can any of us have the hubris to purport to know another person’s life?–and of anachronism: how can a post-war person have an understanding of the lens through which a pre-World War II person saw?–haunted me as I wrote and haunts me still. We are conscious and we are blind. We make mistakes, and we soar with insights. Some of us do it better and with more accuracy: none of us is perfect.

Schlingensiepen cannot be suggesting that nobody who is not of the nationality of a subject is unqualified to write a biography of that person. That would be as absurd as to contend that we can add nothing to our understanding of person’s life if we come from a later time period. After all, we write biography as much to understand the present as the past, as much to understand our own society as another’s. Second, while I found little of interest in Metaxas, Marsh’s biography, which came out as my almost completed draft wended towards a publisher, became a sounding board, a conversation piece for me, a way for me to sharpen and refine, often albeit in contradiction, my own understanding of who Bonhoeffer was as I did a final edit on my book. And for that I am grateful. That, in the end, is what any single decent biography is–not the final word, but one person’s informed contribution to an ongoing conversation.

Bosanquet, Bonhoeffer and the problem of memory

In “Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Witness in an Ambiguous World,” Robin W Lovin and Jonathan P. Gosser call understanding Bonhoeffer’s life “a necessary project.” They write, “it is only as the man emerges for us from his work [or, I would say, as that work emerges from the man] that we are restrained from appropriating his suggestive, enigmatic and fragmentary words and twisting them entirely to our own purposes.” (148)

But how do we unearth the reality of Dietrich Bonheffer, this man for whom the personal was always the theological and the theological always the personal?

Beyond his own writings, we look inevitably–necessarily– to the fragmented and elusive, often frustrating, memories of those who knew him.

Mary Bosanquet, Bonhoeffer’s first biographer, had access to an enviable array of memories: many of the people who knew Bonhoeffer still lived and thrived when she began her book in 1964, not 20 years after Bonhoeffer’s death. Yet Sabine initially met Bosanquet’s book project with dismay, writing “I could not quite suppress my alarm, and wrote to her frankly expressing my concern.” Coming from Sabine, notable for her tendency to understatement, the word “alarm” should stop us, and we might wonder how Bosanquat reassured her.

What Sabine worried about we can only surmise, but she most probably acted as a protective sister wanting to shield her favorite sibling.  All the same, her initial reaction was not open arms, even to a woman she knew and liked, a woman of her own age and class. For from the start, as we see, biography comes to us half-shrouded with an impulse towards privacy that competes with its desire to shine a light on and remember another.

Sabine and Eberhard eventually cooperated generously with Bosanquet’s project, and it is presumably through Sabine that we get such flesh and blood tidbits as a 1923 vision of the Bonhoeffer parents, Paula and Karl, “dressed as Wotan and Freya,” receiving guests in their Grunewald home during one of their famous costume parties. (46)

Yet as we know, such memories as these which populate biography in ways we would not want to forego, likewise remain problematic. Gregory Cowle, as just one example, recently wrote in The New York Times that memoirs, even

 “ by scrupulous writers making good-faith efforts to reconstruct their pasts, are by nature unreliable — as tenuous and conditional and riddled with honest error as memory itself.”

We need memoir to breathe life into facts and dates, to fill in details, to provide facts and color, to animate the dry bones of a life–and we need to handle it with care.

As noted in my last blog post, Bosanquet received letters from the Horns, Bonhoeffer’s governesses. While invaluable, the correspondence illustrates the problems with memory. Käthe Horn remembered that Dietrich could be “a thorough nuisance,” while Maria Horn, in contrast, recalled that the Bonhoeffer children were “never rude or ill-mannered.”


Maria Horn, a Bonhoeffer governess and, later, close family friend.

It’s hard to imagine that the young, exuberant Bonhoeffers, if they were actual human beings, were never rude or ill-mannered, but easy to imagine a faithful employee and friend protecting the family image even years after retirement. Maria Horn, like all of us, comes in with a predisposition. Thus, the more we can read of a person’s recollections, the clearer a picture will eventually emerge. The full text of the Horn sister letters might help us better to understand their emotional landscape or even the context of the questions asked. Perhaps Bonsanquet, with good instincts, drew out the best parts. We don’t know.

What of that initial letter Sabine sent to Bosanquet with her concerns? Such a document might be helpful in understanding the nature of her alarm.

In the end though, these ruminations are less important than the bigger question: How do we handle fragile, malleable memories with care? How do we determine what’s true?


Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Metaphysician Incognito



As long as I have studied theology, I have read Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I have known many versions of him throughout the years. But however mysterious he has appeared at times, he has always been profoundly intriguing, and I have never been able to create much distance from him. Nevertheless, the metaphysical tradition that Bonhoeffer so avidly rejected has for me become increasingly compelling. One can appreciate then how reading Bonhoeffer’s utterly anti-speculative body of work is complicated, as he refigures theology by Christology in German Protestant fashion. Complicated though it may be, I do love reading Bonhoeffer, and expect I will never stop.

Since joining the dark side (a la Barth on the analogia entis), the metaphysical vocabulary has illuminated many of the conundrums in Bonhoeffer’s thought. I found myself wanting to interject the learning of patristic and medieval thinkers into his arguments, such as his insistence upon the transcendentality of truth and goodness, mediated through participation. His objections to theoretical speculation are valid, but they simply do not apply to the theological sensibility that John Milbank, David Bentley Hart, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Erich Przywara espouse; such objections include: the generality of “being” detracts from the personal God of Jesus Christ; divinization implies the abolishment of human particularity, and idolatrously envisions human beings ascend to the place of God; the language of “essences” and “substance” cannot account for the concrete and fluid reality of the real world; speculation assumes absolute knowledge belongs to creatures instead of the simple in faith.

Sacred Rhetoric: Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Participatory Tradition (Wipf & Stock, 2015) is my appeal to Bonhoeffer on behalf of the Christian metaphysical tradition, and in many ways it is a conversation with my former—theology of the cross adoring, Barth, Bonhoeffer, Moltmann, Pannenberg defending—self. I hope this work can contribute to a wider theological discussion, and look forward to engaging with the Bonhoeffer community. This post is meant to introduce the discussion, and I anticipate creating two more entries on the topic.

The Mysterious Mary Bosanquet, Bonhoeffer’s first biographer

We know very little about Mary Bosanquet, who wrote the first Bonhoeffer biography. Her lively book, The Life and Death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, published in 1968, is filled, however, with a rich vein of primary source material.

     We do know that Bosanquet, writing in the mid-1960s, had earlier become friends with Sabine Leibholz, Bonhoeffer’s twin sister, and both Leibholz and Eberhard Bethge cooperated with the biographical project. Sabine spoke with Bosanquet for “many hours” and was impressed with her “exceptional sensitivity,” saying “she has recognized Dietrich for the man he was. … I can fully agree with her interpretation.”

The young Mary Bosanquet graced the frontispiece of her book Canada Ride.

The young Mary Bosanquet graced the frontispiece of her book Canada Ride.

While Sabine’s glowing endorsement of the book (which includes more than is quoted above) might lead one to suspect Bosanquet functioned as Leibholz’s and Bethge’s proxy, the book transcends mere transcription of those two’s thoughts. It includes, for example, remembrances from Bonhoeffer’s beloved governesses, Käthe and Maria Horn. Although in their 80s, the Horn sisters took the time to write Bosanquet letters about their young charge.

In the biography, Bosanquet quotes Käthe Horn’s letter at greater length than Maria’s.  Käthe remembers Sabine and Dietrich as “gifted and ready to learn,” as well as “jolly,” and notes the youngsters liked to surprise her with good deeds, such as setting the table for supper so she wouldn’t have do it. She also notes that the young Dietrich was “mischievious” and “up to various pranks.” Bethge’s portrayal of their mother, Paula, as emotional and a woman not to be crossed, gains credence from  Käthe’s recollection of a time Dietrich became “thorough nuisance.” Paula “descended upon him, boxed his ears left and right and was gone. Then the nonsense was over.” Maria Horn, however, noted that while the Bonhoeffer children were “high-spirited,” they “were never rude or ill-mannered.”

I was tantalized by these few breadcrumbs of recollection from Bonhoeffer’s governesses that made their way into the book. Surely their full letters must exist somewhere? I wondered, too, if Bosanquet could still be alive.

My Bosanquet sleuthing proved harder than I expected. The internet yielded no information –although I learned from bookseller sites that Bosanquet had published several other books, including Canada Ride, her account of riding across Canada on horseback in 1939 and Journey into A Picture, her story of being posted to Italy with the YMCA during World War II as the Nazis were being pushed out. I ordered the books, both out of print, from used booksellers.  Canada Ride, also published under the title Saddlebags for Satchels, duly arrived; Journey into A Picture never did.

Canada Ride yielded interesting biographical information about Bosanquet. She grew up in Beechingstoke Manor farm in the tiny village of Beechingstoke, England. Her father was a diplomat in Frankfurt, and so she spent part of her childhood there, developing a fondness for the German people. When she rode across Canada, her way of distancing herself from the war she knew was coming (it broke out during her ride), she was 24, and had already had a Christian conversion experience. On March 31, 1939, when she boarded the Duchess of Bedford to sail to Canada, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was visiting Sabine in London during the “glorious” spring of 1939.

Dietrich visiting Sabine in London, 1939.

Dietrich visiting Sabine in London, 1939.

Canada Ride, translated into German, became a best seller there after the war, perhaps in part because Bosanquet spoke generously of the Germans in the book, stating when the war broke out that she could never hate them. In 1948, Bosanquet met and hit it off with Sabine. This isn’t surprising, given that the two women were from the same social class, elite but not aristocratic, close in age, had lived in the other’s home country,  were fluent in both German and English, and were intelligent, accomplished women.

All of this fascinated me. Since I dscovered Bosanquet was born in 1913, I now imagined she had passed away. (She may still be alive at 101–she was born in December, 1913.) Knowing her father was a diplomat helped me locate her particular family, but as for any direct descendants I was stymied. I contacted a British cyber friend and genealogist, Ron Dunning, who established that Bosanquat had married a Robert Sinkler Darby in Princeton, NJ in 1947. The intrepid Ron also discovered  that the couple had three children, moved back to England and that at least some of the now adult children (and/or their own children) live near Bath.

Since that time (last June), I have been too busy to pursue this line of sleuthing any further, but would be interested to know if any of Bosanquet’s Bonhoeffer papers are extant. To the extent she corresponded with Sabine, Eberhard, the Horn sisters and others, her materials would surely be of interest to Bonhoeffer scholars. I hope to share more information as I have time to continue these researches and would be glad of any input.

I find it fitting that Bonhoeffer’s first biographer was a woman, an accomplished author, and a friend of Sabine’s. After all, as I discovered, except for Eberhard, Bonhoeffer’s innermost circle consisted entirely of women, and except for Eberhard, Dietrich was closest to Sabine. I’m not surprised Sabine would strike up a friendship with Bosanquet–or that a woman would be the first to tell Sabine’s beloved brother’s story.




Bonhoeffer on Confession

Every week I stand along with the congregation at our Presbyterian church, and together we confess our sins “before God and one another.” We do so praying a prayer written in the bulletin that is general enough to apply to almost all participating. This has been the practice to which I have grown accustom, and while other denominations practice varying traditions, unison confession of sins within a congregation remains mine. It wasn’t until I encountered some of Bonhoeffer’s writing that I began to wonder—Have I been practicing confession incorrectly?

In his work Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer discusses the importance of confessing one’s sins and how we, as believers in a community of faith, should practice confession. For many of us within Reformed traditions, the act of confessing our sins has been part of the weekly worship services in the form of a corporate prayer read aloud, usually allowing time for silent confession, followed by an assurance of pardon. For others, the same is accomplished in the Roman Catholic act of confessing one’s sins in private to a priest. Writing about a community of believers sharing “life together,” Bonhoeffer appears to ask whether either one is truly the manner in which we are commanded by Scripture to confess our sins.

Bonhoeffer contests the Protestant understanding of confession and challenges us to not be so simply satisfied with the corporate prayer of confession spoken aloud in many of our worship services. In addition, he questions the idea that one needs to confess to a leader in the church, such as a priest, when so many individuals in worshiping communities represent Christ’s body present here and now. Recognizing that the largest difference between the two practices of confession center on the need for an intermediary between believers and God, Bonhoeffer points out that as members of the Body of Christ, individuals are both representatives of the ecclesial community and of God.[1] Thus each one is fit to understand human sin and the need for grace and forgiveness.

For this reason, Bonhoeffer, citing James 5:16, offers that confession can and should be made to one’s fellow brother or sister in faith in order that none be left alone to remain in one’s evil. This “remaining alone,” insists Bonhoeffer, is a possibility for Christians in spite of daily participation in a worshiping community. The reason this solitude in sin is so prevalent is that we mistakenly believe, “We are not allowed to be sinners.”[2] We must not fall prey to similar rationalizations—Bonhoeffer does not command that believers live a sinless life lest they be removed from the ecclesial community. On the contrary, even the most pious believers recognize that they, too, sin (Romans 5:12). Bonhoeffer’s quote is a tongue-in-cheek indictment of the community that has all but eliminated humility. He opposes a setting where a penitent sinner faces judgment from the ecclesial body and thus seeks to hide his or her sins from fellow believers. Bonhoeffer calls Christians to be honest with one another regarding sinful transgressions so that individuals might be “loosed” from that which has separated them from God and from one another (John 20:21-23).[3]

Referencing passages in both testaments of Scripture, Bonhoeffer supports the practice of confessing aloud to one’s fellow believer and the subsequent grace that is pronounced. In this short chapter on confession, he offers reasons that corporate prayer and private confession tend to fall short. He encourages believers to instead seek reconciliation with God and the community potentially harmed by acts of sin by confessing to a representative of both. This practice he proposes allows sinners to see the affect one’s actions have on his or her relationships, both divine and human. This act also leads the sinner to recognize a need for restoration and grace which then allows for a renewed sense of discipleship. Confession, as Bonhoeffer states, is discipleship; it is “Nachfolge”—following after.[4]

Thus, rather than allowing guilt to fester and hatred toward one’s self or others to grow, Scripture calls believers to bring sin from darkness into light; from the unknown to the known.[5] This takes place in the act of confession, but more specifically, in the act of confessing one’s sins to a fellow believer in the Body of Christ. As a member of the Body of Christ, those who hear confession stand in place of Christ for the confessing sinner as the one who hears and pronounces God’s grace and forgiveness. Through the act of confessing aloud, that which was done and with the harm it had on relationships within the community recognized and admitted, sin loses the power it once had to tear apart the community.[6] In the act of handing over one’s sins to one who is stands within the Body of Christ the sinner offers his or her sins over to God. It is in this moment of confession that the sinner no longer stands alone in sin but is surrounded by fellow sinners who also seek the grace and mercy of forgiveness that comes only from God but also within the presence of Christ.

As difficult at this may be for many to imagine, the act of confessing aloud is an act of embracing God’s gift of grace. Hearing the confession of one’s brother or sister, the listening member pronounces the grace and forgiveness of God that comes through Christ’s atoning death and resurrection, setting the confessing believer free from his or her sinful acts. Exposing one’s sins in the act of confession, the sinner in turn hears the words of grace, allowing the old self to die and the new life to begin. Not only does this take place in the believer’s heart, but when done aloud to a representative of Christ’s body, new life begins within the Church as a community of forgiven sinners. Together, the forgiven sinners who make up the Body of Christ rejoice at the joy found in forgiveness. All of this begs the question—Why not practice the confession of sins aloud to one’s fellow believers?

The simple answer, according to Bonhoeffer, is pride.[7] This is evident in the way many within the Church seek to hide their sinful selves rather than humbly admit faults or sins lest anyone think less of them. Bonhoeffer even quipped that “Many Christians would be unimaginably horrified if a real sinner were suddenly to turn up among the pious.”[8] Human beings are too caught up in their own pride to be truly humble before God or before the Church community. To stand and admit that I am a sinner is to admit that I am less than I hope to portray. This, I believe, is part of the appeal behind silent prayers of confession. I do not have to admit to anyone other than God that I am sinner in need of grace. In response to this, Bonhoeffer asks why we feel it is easier to go to God, the sinless one who rightly judges with our sins, than to speak them to a fellow sinner.[9] It should be easier to confess to one who understands our sinful state.

Pride is the real reason many feel that sinners are unwelcome in a worshiping community. Yet it is precisely pride that must be overcome in the act of confession. Looking to the cross, we see the power of Christ humbling himself for the sake of sinners. This, according to Bonhoeffer, shatters all pride, and in the act of confession we affirm our own cross and the public death of our old, sinful self.[10] Through the act of confession, believers not only recognize the need for grace, but recognize they are free from the sin that prevents them from embracing God-given grace.

Thus, the question facing us is, can we do this? Can we as believers, regardless of our ecclesial traditions, practice confession in the manner encouraged by Bonhoeffer? There is much that must be overcome if this practice is ever to find a place in our worship—not the least of which being the pride referenced above. Another aspect is that we must be cautious regarding who hears the confessions of penitent sinners, lest rumors and gossip run rampant throughout churches. This practice must take place where everyone recognizes his or her own status as a sinner in need of grace. No one believer is any better than any other as, again, all have fallen short, and there is no gradation of sins making one worse than any other. If we are to truly humble ourselves and recognize the impact our sins have on the relationship we have with those around us as well as with God, what better place is there to start than within the Church?

Perhaps in the near future, the Church will begin to resemble more of what Bonhoeffer described in his doctoral dissertation Sanctorum Communio and less the “world come of age,” thus offering a place where confession of one’s sins may be done before a fellow believer without the fear of judgment, gossip, or pride getting in the way. Until that day, however, we are left challenged by Bonhoeffer’s short chapter asking if there is another manner in which to practice confession, praying that someday we will humbly set aside our pride in order that the Church be a place where sinners in need of grace are welcome.

[1] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, ed. Geffrey B. Kelly, trans. Daniel W. Bloesch and James H. Burtness, (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress. 1996), p111-113.

[2] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p108.

[3] See also: Acts 2:37-38

[4] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p112.

[5] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p110.

[6] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p110.

[7] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p111.

[8] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p108.

[9] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p112.

[10] Bonhoeffer, Life Together, p111.

Maria von Wedemeyer: Hiding in Plain Sight

While researching Dietrich Bonhoeffer and women, I was tantalized by a line from Maria’s sister Ruth-Alice von Bismarck in Love Letters from Cell 92: The Correspondence between Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Maria von Wedemeyer: 1943-45: “In 1974 … She [Maria] also gave an interview about her relationship with Bonhoeffer for a television documentary.” (354)

An interview? Why had I not heard of this? What could be more compelling than to see and hear a historical figure on whose letters I had spent so much time? I went searching for the interview, but came up empty-handed: 1974 and television were too vague as parameters. I even spoke on the phone to a kind person at Union Theological Seminary, who suggested I check with PBS.

I continued sleuthing and eventually discovered the interview in Malcolm Muggeridge’s series A Third Testament, which “explores the spiritual awakening of six renowned thinkers,” ending with Bonhoeffer. Suffice it to say that I immediately ordered the DVD.




What a find it was. The interview confirms reports of Maria as remarkably self-possessed, and at 50, still a beautiful woman, sporting a form fitting sweater dress. It was fascinating to see the woodsy contemporary home she bought in New England during her tenure as the highest ranking female manager at Honeywell. I wondered if the thick Oriental rug on the floor was the one from the Patzig estate used to cover the wagon in which she, some younger siblings and several old women escaped across the frozen Oder river as the Russians arrived.



The interview had its frustrations, however, as I watched the self-possessed Maria hesitate, pause and thoughtfully grope for the right word to describe her relationship with Dietrich, only to have Muggeridge, apparently unwilling to wait, supply a word for her. She acquiesces and repeats it—but what would she have said if left to speak her own thoughts? We’ll never know—and yet, the interview, short as it is, exists, and for that we can be grateful.

In an exchange of e-mails with me, Craig Slane said that mission of this Bonhoeffer site is “high quality resources for engagement with Bonhoeffer.” Because of that, I started thinking about quality resources hidden in plain sight, and the first that popped to mind was this interview. I include some analysis of it in my upcoming book, and I hope more of these “submerged” sources will rise to the surface in Bonhoeffer studies. For instance, while we know of only a few seconds of film of Bonhoeffer himself and have no recordings, I imagine the Gestapo must have taped telephone conversations of a man of such interest to them. Bonhoeffer did, after all, strongly suspect his phone was tapped. We know too that the regime played back recordings of Niemoller phone conversations with Confessing Church cohorts in order to embarrass him. If similar Bonhoeffer recordings were made and still exist, locked away in some archive, wouldn’t that be a find? But on we dream …

 Next time: Mary Bosanquat, Bonhoeffer’s first biographer. 

Teaching Bonhoeffer

The Bonhoeffer ReaderAs I prepare for a future three credit undergraduate course on the life and theology of Bonhoeffer that I am hoping to teach, I am curious what resources others would consider essential to teaching an undergrad course on this subject? In fact, we have a “Syllabi” tab on this website that will be populated at some point by such courses in the future.

I offer the following only as a skeletal outline of what I hope to offer for such a course. The basic textbooks I’m looking at using are:

  • Green, Clifford J. and Michael DeJonge, eds. The Bonhoeffer Reader. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2013.
  • One of the biographies (I have yet to determine which one)
  • Supplemental articles, letters and chapters (both primary and secondary).

I would have to determine more specific writings and ideas to cover, but the basic content/topics would include such areas as:

  • Early life (including historical, cultural and familial context)
  • Theological formation
  • Bonhoeffer the traveler
  • Bonhoeffer the pastor
  • Bonhoeffer the professor
  • Bonhoeffer the ecumenist
  • Bonhoeffer the prophet
  • Bonhoeffer the prisoner

Basic assignments (at this point) would likely include a historical paper focusing on a particular period in the life of the Bonhoeffer. There will also likely be several precis written on various select portions from The Bonhoeffer Reader. I would also require at least one significant theological engagement of the work of Bonhoeffer utilizing the DBWE. Because I work primarily at training ministers, I would also require a brief pastoral reflection utilizing theological and pastoral concerns of Bonhoeffer within a sermon, devotional, blog-post.

I have also been giving consideration to making this course a traveling course that would tour many of the historic locations of Bonhoeffer’s life in Europe where we would cover a topic (or several) in that location that relates to his life while living there.

So what would you require for reading? Which biography would you use and why? What would you require for assignments? What content do you believe would be essential to cover in lectures, videos, etc.?

Bonhoeffer, Pneumatology and Theological Education

FinkenwaldeIn the recent issue of The Pentecostal Educator (of which I am Executive Editor) I was pleased to include an article by Dr. Christopher R. J. Holmes (Senior Lecturer in Systematic Theology at the University of Otago) entitled, “‘The subject of contemporization’: The Holy Spirit and the Task of Theological Education” The Pentecostal Educator 2.2 (Fall 2015): 23-30.

In this article he grapples with the pneumatology of Bonhoeffer in his work while at Finkenwalde. He engages Bonhoeffer’s theological contributions with specific regard to the theological education of preachers. Certainly this was a task which Bonhoeffer believed belonged at the center of Christian community. Perhaps even more so given his training and ministry with the Lutheran communion. His specifically christo- and pneumato- logical appraisal offers a highly reflective contribution (albeit perhaps controversial in a certain contexts) that should be considered by all theological educators and most particularly those engaged in the training of preachers (such as myself).

The abstract reads as follows:

Does Christology overwhelm pneumatology in Bonhoeffer’s thought? In this article I argue that this is not so by reflecting on the extent to which Bonhoeffer’s account of theological education’s task in the Finkenwalde material trades upon a rich pneumatology. I develop this along three lines. First, Bonhoeffer would have theological education be interested in the formation of preachers who help the congregation to “see the true situation of human beings before God.” Indeed, humankind’s situation is unintelligible apart from the Spirit as the very contemporization of the Christ event. Second, preaching becomes a matter of witness to Christ who is “the gift of the Holy Spirit.” Accordingly, Bonhoeffer’s bold experiment would promote an account of the preacher as witness to the Spirit’s speech “through the text of the Bible.” Third, rather than eschewing metaphysics, a robust education in the Spirit appreciates the ministerial function of Trinitarian first principles.

It is this form of careful theological reflection (trinitarian and ecclesiological) that ought to inform the modes and aims and theological education and particularly the training of preachers for the Church. It is insufficient to believe that “contemporizing” is a feat accomplished through human effort. As Holmes contends, it is a participation with and response to the person and work of the Spirit that is indeed contemporizing.

The article can be read in full HERE.