Keys to Bonhoeffer's Haus by Laura M. Fabrycky

Author:Laura M. Fabrycky [Fabrycky, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781506455921
Publisher: Fortress Press
Published: 2020-02-22T16:00:00+00:00

Connecting the East-West division in Germany and the North-South division in the United States, he continued, “For here on either side of the Wall are God’s children, and no man-made barrier can obliterate that fact.” And then, quoting Scripture, he proclaimed, “Wherever reconciliation is taking place, wherever men are ‘breaking down the dividing walls of hostility’ (Eph. 2:14) which separate them from their brothers, there Christ continues to perform his ministry.”[37]

Tears streamed down my face, hearing that famous and familiar voice, that true son of America, that prophet who brought a message of judgment as a means of confession toward repentance. Here, again, the ministry of the word, infused with theology forged out of the suffering of African Americans, offered hope, light, and vision to a group of East Germans who were now walking in their own dark moment of history. Cut off as they were from loved ones, even cut off from themselves, the words of this preacher from Georgia—a man reviled by many in his own country for threatening the codified systems of entrenched injustice, for calling America to live according to its stated ideals—rang out with the clarity of truth in a city polluted with lies. It was such a privilege to hear those words, sitting just feet from the pulpit in which they were delivered, on the day that honored King’s life—one that was cut short at the age of thirty-nine, just like Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s. There seemed nothing coincidental about this convergence of moments. Both men crossed boundaries, both acted as bridges between people who knew suffering, and both shared vital words and resources that gave listeners reasons to hope.

After hearing the recording, we thanked the volunteer profusely and stepped with him into a back room to see some other artifacts—among them, records of jazz singers that he cherished. He also gave us a flier for a planned gathering that evening on Pariser Platz, the main square just in front of the Brandenburg Gate and right in front of the US embassy. A group was going to come together to sing spirituals, including “We Shall Overcome,” as a way of marking the day and registering the laments of all that has not been overcome.[38] “We have to go,” I urged my husband, and later that evening, we arrived to the plaza with small candles and lanterns to hold.

A group of about a hundred formed the gathered choir on the Platz that night, and we lifted our voices together in shared lament and hope. The group was not political, and the gathering was not intended as a demonstration. It had drawn all kinds of people, black and white, German and American, and many others as well. As we joined our voices together in the folksong of the enslaved that became the anthem of the American civil rights movement, right there in the scarred heart of Berlin, all I could think was how little things have changed, how many boundaries still need to be crossed, how far we still need to go, and yet we still have reasons to hope.

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