Tárogató, 1946-1947 (9. évfolyam, 7-10. szám)
1947-02-01 / 8. szám
TÁROGATÓ 15 our Fathers,” “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” took on added meaning ás you looked into the face of Niemoeller and thought of him as typical of the great resisters of history. Thin, somewhat ascetic looking, with clear and penetrating eye and with the marks of suffering still upon him, he stood before the people to witness to the faith that had sustained him during trying days. As you listened to him you recalled those eight years of incarceration, first at Sachsenhausen where he was three years in solitary confinement, then five years at Dachau. At any time during his imprisonment he could have been released if he would have promised not to attack the Nazi state -You could have heard a pin drop as he bore his testimony in that vast church, in clear and well chosen English, to the great fundamental realities of the Gospel and the power of Christ to reconcile men not only to God but to one another. He told us it was easier to discover the will of God in close confinement than it was to know clearly what the will of God is in relation to the complex problems which must now be faced. For this man, in spite of limited reserves of health, is nevertheless throwing himself into the task of revitalizing the Christian Church in Germany. Regarding Germany he said that “when in the midst of a Christian people six million person are deliberately murdered only because they belonged to another race, no one can maintain that that guilt is not a fearful reality.” And yet our whole world is in danger of. losing its way and plunging over some awful precipice of destruction. As we sang the closing hymn at this great opening service, “All hail the power of Jesus’ Name,” the frail whitehaired wife of Pastor Niemoeller went to the platform and stood beside her husband. She had a hard struggle to keep back the tears as she looked out on that vast throng of generous American Christians. One was glad that Else Bremer Niemoeller had been invited to America to share this visit with her husband, which she says is like a second honeymoon. Twice monthly through the long eight years of her husband’s confinement she had visited him at the concentration camps. In addition, this frail woman had carried on the work of her husband’s Berlin parish and furthered Christian resistance throughout Germany. She trained her seven children to give Christian witness whenever the Church was attacked at school or in public meetings. The oldest of the four Niemoeller boys, a student for the ministry, was killed on the Eastern front. One is still a prisoner in Russia. A third was hospitalized on the Eastern front but is now at home. The youngest daughter, Juta, who had great talents for Christian youth work, died during the last year of the war. Yes, it was a great experience to look upon this scene at Seattle and to feel that you were a part of it. One returns to the trivial round and common task fortified in spirit and glad in all humility that he belongs to an ecumenical fellowship that brings Christians of different nationalities together and that within this fellowship even sorrow and suffering are made to work together for good. As the writer left First Presbyterian Church on this eventful night, deeply moved by what he had seen and heard, he overheard a press man say: “Think of spending eight years in a concentration camp and then having nothing to talk about but Jesus Christ.” —“Observer.” THE SWAN — By W. J. Copsey We walked along- a quiet English country road and came to a little pond, a peaceful, sleepy body of water, caused by the damming of the stream for the mill on the other side of the road. The old mill had been unused for many years. Looking over the two foot high wall that separated the pond from the road, we saw the pond surrounded by shady trees among fields and woods. Approaching across the water were two swans, and what a magnificent couple they were! The male bird led the way. He came swimming toward the low wall as if to greet us. His snowy white wings were arched above his back, his neck bent, and the orange beak was set off by its black knob gleaming in the sunshine. The birds were disappointed that we
