Bonhoeffer in Harlem

Many know the story of the martyred German Pastor and Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer for his role in Operation Valkyrie, the German resistance plot to kill Hitler. This is indeed a great example of a Christ follower abandoning the comfortable for a life in the trenches. A pastor involved in the assassination of Adolf Hitler could not concern himself with the latest church growth strategies. But Bonhoeffer actually gave us many examples during his young life, when he abandoned the safe, financially stable, and socially acceptable, in order to follow the example of Christ. One of my favorites is when he found himself in Harlem.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was born to a well-connected, wealthy Berlin family. He was tall and educated, blue eyed and intelligent beyond his years. His family was revered in their city, which was known as the central scientific and artistic hub of the world at the time. His father Karl in particular was a well-known psychiatrist, neurologist, and professor at the Universities of Berlin, Frankfurt, Leipzig, who garnered the attention of all of Germany’s political and social elite. He was even well respected amongst Germany’s upper echelons, who would soon take their beloved nation down a dark trajectory. Dietrich was also a talented musician and could have pursued any career of his choosing. By the age of thirteen however, Bonhoeffer had chosen theology as his primary focus, never reneging on this path once decided. He would spend his adolescence studying and writing theology, eventually receiving his Doctorate from the University of Berlin at the age of 21, before he was even old enough to be ordained. So, after studying at a few of Europe’s finest universities, he decided to study in America’s.

Bonhoeffer stepped off the luxurious ship, The Columbus, in New York City on September 15, 1930. He had spent the last week smoking and enjoying the many amenities of the largest and fastest commercial vessel on the ocean at the time. His eventual destination was Union Theological Seminary where he would study philosophy of religion, theology, and social ethics, all of which were taught by the most famous theologians of the time, including the popular social activist Reinhold Niebuhr. Union Theological Seminary was a proud flagship of Protestant theology in North America. A degree from Union was highly sought after by any student wishing to become a minister or professor and display a large emphasis on service to humanity. It was an elite school, overseen by elite professors, attracting students who wished to be elite ministers of social justice.

So, it’s curious that Bonhoeffer, this elite Berliner, who was very assured in his academic and theological prowess, felt uncomfortable there. He also felt uncomfortable attending some of the mainstream churches in the U.S. at the time. He once wrote in a letter, “In New York, they preach about virtually everything, except . . . the Gospel of Jesus Christ.” There, in one of the largest, busiest, culturally elite cities in the world, studying at one of the most esteemed and modern seminaries in the world, Bonhoeffer struggled to find the Jesus he had read about in the four Gospels. He found a lot of topical morality, which sometimes meshed with the four books, but he could not find a church or a seminary that would teach the doctrine of the wretched yet beautiful cross.

So where was Bonhoeffer eventually to find a community of believers who was deeply hungry for the Gospel of Christ? The answer was found in the depression torn, segregated neighborhoods of Harlem, New York. Here, he found his place among the societal rejected and the Broken.

During Bonhoeffer’s two semester stay at Union Theological Seminary he had met a fellow student named Franklin Fisher. Fisher was a seminarian from Harlem, who befriended and invited Dietrich to his Sunday morning church service at Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, pastored by the prominent African American pastor, Adam Clayton Powell Sr. This was an important church during the post-Civil War, pre-civil rights movement. It was the largest church in the Harlem Christian Renaissance, who is remembered now as an active church who identified a marginalized Jesus with the marginalized people of their day. Jesus belonged to the oppressed, not the oppressors. This was not yet a mainstream idea found in western theology at the time.

In Harlem, Bonhoeffer experienced for the first time in America, active and authentic preaching and worship. They responded to the Gospel as if it were actually good news for the poor. For the first time ever, Bonhoeffer saw the utility of the oppressed, broken Jesus, ministering to his oppressed, broken people. This started him on a six-month adventure, fully immersing himself in the racially oppressed, black Christian culture of North America.

Bonhoeffer met weekly with a group of African American Christians who deeply resounded with the German Theologian. Here, he saw the United States at its worst. Not only was the depression more devastating to poor neighborhoods than an outsider might expect, but the systematic racism of the time kept these black communities in financial despair. Yet his interactions with the wealthy Protestant seminarians and professors left him longing while his impoverished friends in Harlem left him feeling excited, challenged, and never for a moment bored. Bonhoeffer began volunteering with the youth clubs at Abyssinian Baptist Church and began to play in their musical programs. He developed a love for the Negro Spirituals, of which he scoured the local record shops, buying as many as he could find before returning to Germany. They seemed to sing their healing into existence. Bonhoeffer liked that.

His stay in New York emblemizes a perfect example of a follower of Jesus jumping into the gutters of humanity. Dietrich could have spent his time rubbing shoulders with Union students in the smoking rooms and drinking brandy in their dining halls with the most respected Christian leaders of his time, talking theology and justice. Or he could jump into the trenches with the very people who desperately needed that which was being discussed in those halls. Bonhoeffer chose the latter. As is a common trope among many Bonhoeffer enthusiasts, “He arrived in Harlem a theologian, but he left a Christian.” Among the broken, the despised, and the segregated, Bonhoeffer found the living, breathing Church. For this young, blond haired, blue eyed, Berliner elite, the first time meat was ever put on the bones of his well-versed theology, was when he saw it lived out among societies marginalized and forgotten, the Broken.

It is only natural that today’s follower of Christ, who lay aside the desires and riches of this world, (even the riches of the professional ministry world), to live the life of the Broken, will find Jesus there too. Bonhoeffer did, and it changed his life forever, and indeed the history of the western theology.

Dietrich never did get to stake a large claim to his theological studies. He rarely made a pfennig from aggressively studying scripture at such a young age. He had to hide. He had to create an underground seminary. He eventually had to join the ranks of those he despised in his government in order to secretly serve those who were despised by their government. He never got his dues or any accolades. Not in the sense that we would celebrate anyway. Bonhoeffer’s faith always led him in the trajectory of down. Never up. All that wonderful theology he absorbed, and it is indeed wonderful at times, never led him anywhere but a Nazi concentration camp, and eventually, the hangman’s noose. As the camp doctor recorded,

“I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer, before taking off his prison garb, kneeling on the floor praying fervently to his God. I was most deeply moved by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a prayer and then climbed the steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued in a few seconds. In the almost 50 years that I have worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.”

Bonhoeffer’s journey after a broken Jesus led him not to a life among the comfortable and respectable. It led him to death. Yet to be assured, Bonhoeffer died long before approaching the steps of the gallows that day in 1945. He indeed died before he died, living the life of the Broken. At that point, the gallows were a mere formality.

I once heard a distinguished, mega-church pastor tell his flock of tens of thousands that they should purchase and adorn beautiful, well-kept clothing, because, naturally, it complements their father in heaven. He illustrated a young kid walking into church with dirty clothes and unkept hair. If our eyes were unfortunate enough to fall upon the dirty young boy, we might make negative assumptions about that child’s parents and the apparent lack of care he must receive at home. Thus, his logic concluding, because we do not wish others to make negative assumptions about our heavenly father, it is incumbent on us to adorn the finest robes possible… I used to think that taking the Lord’s name in vain was a sort of magical cuss word or something. I now know it’s those who pervert the message of the broken Jesus for their own societal advancements and riches are infinitely closer to taking God’s name in vain than some random combination of English words.

We would have made some very unfortunate assumptions of Jesus’ Father in heaven based on the tattered clothes and the brokenness which he surrounded himself in. I don’t know all the interpretations of the anti-Christ in scripture, but certainly one is a man who supposedly represents “good news for the poor,” telling his congregants to purchase expensive clothing. Can one come up with a more anti-Christ set of beliefs?

As much as the comments made by the mega-church pastor come off as parody, there is a small part of us who believes it. When we do well socially and financially, it’s easy to assume that God is pleased with us. When we struggle socially and financially, we often ask where we are going wrong. When I was coming of age, most of the Christian families I experienced growing up had comfortable lives. They seemed to live clean and prosperous. They went on vacations with one another. Their families were still together and not displaced around the country like mine. They lived in a home that didn’t have axels. When we were made to take our shoes off in their home, their socks were not dark and crispy. They matched too. They had a bible on their coffee table. They prayed together in the mornings. Everyone knew them at church. Their children made good grades and were in leadership positions in the faith-based clubs at school. I was not part of this world, as much as I quietly desired to be. Not by a long shot. Of course, all of this may not have been grounded in complete reality, but that’s how my little mind processed it. I was on the outside looking in on God’s good graces, and the holes in my socks and the dilapidated trailer I once called home reminded me. I was at a firm arm’s distance from the One in whom that poor, dirty little boy was supposed to take refuge.

I’ve graduated from this disturbingly small view of my Creator and Sustainer. I know broken Jesus chuckles along with me when I think about equating earthly gain with spiritual gain. One of the most influential men of God I know today, whose character I sincerely try to model, is a gentleman named Pastor Mac.

Pastor Mac, who is responsible for the positive life change of thousands of people during his time in ministry, including myself, cannot afford to adorn a nice wardrobe, nor could he wear them if he could. He’ll never step foot outside of Oklahoma’s prison walls. He’ll never raise money for a new wing on his home, no matter how many bible studies he plans to have there. He cannot demand that someone stand when he walks into the room. He’ll never even have a pillow to call his own. But I dare say his eternal impact has caused more waves than any who are paid the heftiest sort of sums for preaching Christ. Some of the most unassuming, godly men I have ever met have no choice but to wear orange every day for the rest of their lives. The only assumption I make about their heavenly Father is he is a God of redemption, who offers good news for the poor and the broken, who lifts up the despised and the marginalized. The assumption I make about their heavenly Father is that he can do immeasurably more with a broken, humble person in the forgotten gutters of humanity than he ever will with a prideful, well-dressed man in the limelight of the pulpit.

Following Jesus will rarely end in societal advancement but likely societal irrelevancy. Pride cringes at this idea. Mine sure did as I typed it. The Broken absorb it with great joy. Following Christ leads to a cross. It was true for him, and true of his closest followers. It was a societal death sentence. Following Christ meant less of a platform and less opportunity to grow and expand. To think we’ve allowed it to mean more influence and better status is truly a disease on a faith that caters to the poor, the hopeless, the voiceless, the segregated, the locked away, and the Broken. Let’s not look to those who are good at speaking and rubbing elbows, or even those who are educated like me. Look past me for sure. Look to those whose faith has led them into the gutters of this diseased world. Look to those who slug it out daily with the depravity of our fallen condition. Let’s look to the dirty, the unorganized, and the flustered. Let’s look to the Broken… and indeed try daily to join their ranks.