BradTaylor

Bonhoeffer: Chapter 1

So, my friend Andy and I decided to read a book together and discuss it on our blogs. The book we chose is Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas. We’re each going to try to post after reading each chapter, and we’d both like to invite any of you who would like to participate in the conversation to do so at either of our blogs (His can be found here).

I met Dietrich Bonhoeffer through his little book, Life Together. One of my best friends gave me this book as a gift for being part of his wedding party. I thought it was fantastic. I later read The Cost of Discipleship, and enjoyed it, but it wasn’t as seminal in my formation as it has been for many. The book we’re reading is an incredibly in-depth biography, and this first chapter explores Bonhoeffer’s childhood and family of origin.

Bonhoeffer’s (the name means “bean farmer”) family is quite remarkable. Dietrich was a twin, ten minutes older than his sister Sabine, and one of eight children. His maternal grandmother took piano lessons from Franz Liszt. Yes, that Franz Liszt!  His father was a renowned psychiatrist with untold influence all over Europe, and he was also an agnostic. I had no idea Dietrich himself was such a musician, but he was the most gifted of all his siblings in this realm. He was a talented pianist who was composing and arranging at the age of 14. Every Saturday night the family would gather after dinner and sing and play music for hours. Each child would play or sing a solo. They would enjoy duets, trios, and quartets, with Dietrich being the most popular accompanist. The other siblings played violin, cello, and other instruments, but all of them agreed that Dietrich was the foremost musician among them.

Much of this first chapter focuses on the first World War, which took place during Dietrich’s childhood. His oldest brother, Walter, went to the front lines of the war weeks after his 18th birthday, in April 1918. In May, he was killed. The news of his death rocked the entire family, but especially Dietrich’s mother, Paula. She wrote these words to be sung to the tune of a popular hymn at Walter’s funeral: “What God has done, it is well done. His will is always just. Whatever He will do to me, In Him I’ll ever place my trust.”

When Dietrich was 13, he knew he wanted to be a theologian. When I was 13, I still wanted to be the Cardinals shortstop, and I probably thought I still had a shot. I’m astounded to read of his depth of spiritual understanding and insight at such a young age. While his mother was a religious woman, the family did not attend church. All the children were confirmed, and Bible teaching was an important part of their homeschooling, but the family, full of scientists, considered theology a less intellectual pursuit, one they felt was a bit below them. When he announced his decision around his 14th birthday, it was met with some of the chiding he expected, but his mind was made up.

Metaxas is obviously brilliant and has spent a great deal of time immersed in studying Bonhoeffer. On p.20, while exploring the inescapable Christianity of German culture, he makes this observation about Martin Luther’s impact on Germany: “As television has had a homogenizing effect on the accents and dialects of Americans, watering down accents and sanding down sharp twangs, Luther’s Bible created a single German tongue. Suddenly millers from Munchen could communicate with bakers from Bremen. Out of this grew a sense of common heritage and culture.”

I knew Luther’s translation of the Bible into German was a big deal on many fronts, but the depth of this had never hit me. And I was amazed at his TV metaphor. It makes perfect sense: I, a southern boy who has lived in Ohio for 12 years, watch the same TV shows as people in New England, the Pacific Northwest, the Midwest, and Alaska. Characters like Chuck Bartowski and Phil & Claire Dunphy (Modern Family is the best comedy on TV) and Adrian Monk and Jerry Seinfeld and President Jed Bartlet are mutual friends to all of us, and they mostly talk without a discernible accent. And these days we listen to them more than we listen to our neighbors. And so, whereas 14 years ago people called my college dorm room just to hear my message (“Hi, this is Bra-yud Taaaaaaylor”) and tease me for my drawl, now people just say, “You kinda sound like you’re not from around here, but we can’t quite figure out why.”

I don’t anticipate that all my posts about this fine book will be quite so lengthy (this chapter was 40ish pages long), so I hope you won’t be dissuaded from reading along and jumping in to the conversation.