Today we went from the serenity of the cloister to the bustle of the city. After exploring the city a little (this is where Johann Sebastian Bach lived and died), we gathered at the parish house of St. Thomas Church to meet Pastor Ulrich Seidel and learn about how the church in East Germany survived the hostile environment of the years under communism — and how it helped change that environment.
This is a story largely unknown to us in the West. It all happened behind the Iron Curtain.
After World War II, as we know, Germany was divided, and Leipzig was in the eastern part. The Marxist government of East Germany (the GDR) was officially atheistic; communism scorned the church as a remnant of the old way of life. The GDR worked assiduously to drive wedges between the people and the faith.
A striking example that Pastor Seidel described for us was confirmation. For many people
, confirmation is less a religious ceremony than a simple rite of passage, a time for a party for a young adult. The GDR seized on that to separate people from the life of the church. It created a parallel secular ceremony and ruled that a teen who chose confirmation in the church would not be admitted to university. What would you do?
Many Christians made the compromise. They let their teens be “dedicated” in the secular ceremony so that they could get a good education.
The Marxist government relegated faith to the private sphere, and life within the church was relatively free. The church could teach, publish, and have meetings. A person could live her faith privately, but not publicly — that would be counter-revolutionary, and that was a dangerous thing to be.
In 1961, the Berlin Wall went up. Many professionals — even the doctors at the hospitals — left for the West. Pastors debated: Should they leave too, or should they stay with the people who couldn't leave? The answer was clear: They stayed. It was God's choice, not theirs.
In 1975, people all over Europe were alarmed by a new nuclear arms treaty and began demonstrating for peace. In Leipzig, the activists turned to the church to help shape the movement in a peaceful direction, away from aggression and violence. They were greatly influenced by the example of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
And so the demonstrations took the form of gathering at the churches to read the Beatitudes and pray for peace. The state taught that the West was the enemy, but the church taught that there were no enemies. Witnesses report that if a demonstrator came into conflict with a police oficer, the whole crowd would chant, "No violence, no violence." People in other cities began to follow the example of the Leipzigers.
By 1989, the East German state was in crisis. The economy was in shambles; the government shaken by scandal and corruption. More and more people came to the Monday evening prayers at St. Nicholas Lutheran Church to pray and then to protest, peacefully. Thousands, then tens of thousands gathered in candlelight procession, always peacefully, to protest injustice and pray for peace.
Pastor Seidel's description of how this came to a head was riveting. He told us that the state declared that these demonstrations were counter-revolutionary. The secret police were always watching, hoping to catch the organizers of the protests — but the prayer meetings were legal, and the demonstrations were spontaneous. There were no organizers to catch. All the churches in the city opened their doors for the Monday prayer meetings, helping to ensure safety, and all the churches were packed with people praying for peace.
In early October of 1989, the GDR ordered an end to the peace prayers. If the churches wouldn't stop them, the police would. Rumors were flying. Fifteen thousand demonstrators marched from downtown to the railroad station and the police drew back — the orders hadn't been written yet. Then came word that two regiments were moving in. Children came home from school to tell their parents to stay home that Monday, because their teachers said there would be shooting. A nurse told Pastor Seidel that the hospitals had been cleared out to make room for the predicted wounded. What would happen?
That Monday night, 70,000 people gathered in and around the churches of Leipzig, praying for peace. They slowly moved with their candles toward the railroad station. And the police disappeared. No order came from Berlin. The crowd went to the headquarters of the secret police. All the windows were dark. Nothing happened. The thousands of peaceful demonstrators stopped there, and then they turned around and went home safely.
Within a few weeks, the government resigned. Elections were held. A month later, the Berlin Wall came down, and the great change began.
Did the hundreds of thousands who had turned to the churches and prayed for peace stay with the practice of the faith? Some did; most didn't. It's hard to undo three generations of atheism. But everywhere we have gone in Germany, we have heard of people's commitment to peace and reconciliation. As Pastor Seidel said, the church isn't the only way to be a Christian.
This is a story largely unknown to us in the West. It all happened behind the Iron Curtain.
After World War II, as we know, Germany was divided, and Leipzig was in the eastern part. The Marxist government of East Germany (the GDR) was officially atheistic; communism scorned the church as a remnant of the old way of life. The GDR worked assiduously to drive wedges between the people and the faith.
A striking example that Pastor Seidel described for us was confirmation. For many people
, confirmation is less a religious ceremony than a simple rite of passage, a time for a party for a young adult. The GDR seized on that to separate people from the life of the church. It created a parallel secular ceremony and ruled that a teen who chose confirmation in the church would not be admitted to university. What would you do?Many Christians made the compromise. They let their teens be “dedicated” in the secular ceremony so that they could get a good education.
The Marxist government relegated faith to the private sphere, and life within the church was relatively free. The church could teach, publish, and have meetings. A person could live her faith privately, but not publicly — that would be counter-revolutionary, and that was a dangerous thing to be.
In 1961, the Berlin Wall went up. Many professionals — even the doctors at the hospitals — left for the West. Pastors debated: Should they leave too, or should they stay with the people who couldn't leave? The answer was clear: They stayed. It was God's choice, not theirs.
In 1975, people all over Europe were alarmed by a new nuclear arms treaty and began demonstrating for peace. In Leipzig, the activists turned to the church to help shape the movement in a peaceful direction, away from aggression and violence. They were greatly influenced by the example of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
And so the demonstrations took the form of gathering at the churches to read the Beatitudes and pray for peace. The state taught that the West was the enemy, but the church taught that there were no enemies. Witnesses report that if a demonstrator came into conflict with a police oficer, the whole crowd would chant, "No violence, no violence." People in other cities began to follow the example of the Leipzigers.
By 1989, the East German state was in crisis. The economy was in shambles; the government shaken by scandal and corruption. More and more people came to the Monday evening prayers at St. Nicholas Lutheran Church to pray and then to protest, peacefully. Thousands, then tens of thousands gathered in candlelight procession, always peacefully, to protest injustice and pray for peace.
Pastor Seidel's description of how this came to a head was riveting. He told us that the state declared that these demonstrations were counter-revolutionary. The secret police were always watching, hoping to catch the organizers of the protests — but the prayer meetings were legal, and the demonstrations were spontaneous. There were no organizers to catch. All the churches in the city opened their doors for the Monday prayer meetings, helping to ensure safety, and all the churches were packed with people praying for peace.
In early October of 1989, the GDR ordered an end to the peace prayers. If the churches wouldn't stop them, the police would. Rumors were flying. Fifteen thousand demonstrators marched from downtown to the railroad station and the police drew back — the orders hadn't been written yet. Then came word that two regiments were moving in. Children came home from school to tell their parents to stay home that Monday, because their teachers said there would be shooting. A nurse told Pastor Seidel that the hospitals had been cleared out to make room for the predicted wounded. What would happen?
That Monday night, 70,000 people gathered in and around the churches of Leipzig, praying for peace. They slowly moved with their candles toward the railroad station. And the police disappeared. No order came from Berlin. The crowd went to the headquarters of the secret police. All the windows were dark. Nothing happened. The thousands of peaceful demonstrators stopped there, and then they turned around and went home safely.
Within a few weeks, the government resigned. Elections were held. A month later, the Berlin Wall came down, and the great change began.
Did the hundreds of thousands who had turned to the churches and prayed for peace stay with the practice of the faith? Some did; most didn't. It's hard to undo three generations of atheism. But everywhere we have gone in Germany, we have heard of people's commitment to peace and reconciliation. As Pastor Seidel said, the church isn't the only way to be a Christian.
1 comment:
In 2003 my sister and niece visited Berlin and brought me a souvenir chunk of the now-fallen Berlin Wall, embedded in lucite and engraved as follows: "die Mauer...the Wall...Berlin...13.8.1961 - 9.11.1989". Thank you for your post, which movingly describes the events surrounding that Wall's construction and especially, the importance of its destruction. Let freedom, and peace, reign! God bless all of your group in your travels and come home safely.
Colleen
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