Betrayal

by Robert P Ericksen

  Faulhaber was severely criticized by the Nazis for these qualifications, and his palace was fired upon-a fact that has been taken as proof that German Catholicism actually did condemn the Nazi persecution of the Jews. Yet in the same series of sermons, in his eloquent vindication of the sacred character of the Old Testament (which Rosenberg had attacked as the "Jewish Bible"), Faulhaber went out of his way to make clear that he was not concerned with defending the Jews of his time. We must distinguish, he told the faithful, between the people of Israel before the death of Christ, who were vehicles of divine revelation, and the Jews after the death of Christ, who have become restless wanderers over the earth. But even the Jewish people of ancient times could not justly claim credit for the wisdom of the Old Testament: "People of Israel, this did not grow in your own garden of your own planting. This condemnation of usurious land-grabbing, this war against the oppression of the farmer by debt, this prohibition of usury, is not the product of your spirit."'

  Whatever ambiguity may still have attached to his position after these pronouncements, Faulhaber soon acted to dispel. In the summer of 1934 a Social Democratic paper in Prague published a sermon against race hatred that Faulhaber had allegedly preached. The Basel National-Zeitung in Switzerland reprinted excerpts from this sermon, and the World Jewish Congress at a meeting in Geneva praised the Cardinal's courageous stand. But the sermon turned out to be a fabrication, and Faulhaber had his secretary write a widely publicized letter to the Jewish organization protesting against "the use of his name by a conference that demands the commercial boycott of Germany, that is, economic war." The Cardinal, the letter continued, "in his Advent sermons of the previous year has defended the Old Testament of the Children of Israel but not taken a position with regard to the Jewish question of today."'

  Lesser Church dignitaries quite naturally took the cue from their Archbishop. An article written by a canon of the cathedral chapter of Regensburg, and published in Klerusblatt, the organ of the Bavarian priests' association, advised Catholic teachers to point out to pupils that the sacred books of the Old Testament were not only beyond the Jewish mentality but in direct conflict with it. "The greatest miracle of the Bible is that the true religion could hold its own and maintain itself against the voice of the Semitic blood.""'

  The embarrassing fact that Jesus had been a Jew was handled in a similar manner. In a pastoral letter of 1939 Archbishop Grober conceded that Jesus Christ could not be made into an Aryan, but the Son of God had been fundamentally different from the Jews of his time-so much so that they had hated him and demanded his crucifixion; and "their murderous hatred has continued in later centuries."" Jesus had been a Jew, admitted Bishop Hilfrich of Limburg in his pastoral letter for Lent 1939, but "the Christian religion has not grown out of the nature of this people, that is, is not influenced by their racial characteristics. Rather it has had to make its way against this people." The Jewish people, the Bishop added, were guilty of the murder of God and had been under a curse since the day of the crucifixion.''

  The attempt to swim with the antisemitic tide was even more pronounced in the previously cited Handbook of Archbishop Gruber. Marxism here was defined as "the materialistic socialism founded primarily by the Jew Karl Marx,""' and Bolshevism was characterized as "an Asiatic state despotism, in point of fact in the service of a group of terrorists led by Jews."'} The Fiihrer had correctly described the struggle against this evil force as a defense of European civilization against Asiatic barbarism: "No people can avoid this clash between its natural tradition and Marxism which is opposed to national ties and led mostly by Jewish agitators and revolutionaries."" And in yet another article, the Handbook asserted that most of the unhealthy and un-German developments in art since the nineteenth century had been the work of "the uprooted and atheistically perverted Jew," or those under Jewish influence.'°

  If such language could be endorsed by an archbishop, it is no wonder that lower ranking figures in the Church felt free to express their antisemitic sentiments still more openly. Thus the theologian Karl Adam spoke of the need to purge the press, literature, science, and art of the "Jewish mentality," adding the usual caveat that "the Christian conscience must insist that these legal ordinances be implemented in a spirit of justice and love."" Thus also an article on the revolution of 1918 in the paper of the Bavarian priests accused the Jew [sic] Karl Liebknecht of treason, and told how "the Jew Emil Barth equipped his Unterinensclien [inferior humans] with hand grenades and automatic pistols in order to attack the national defense from the rear.""

  And so it went. The Jews had had a "demoralizing influence on religiosity and national character.""' The Jews, as a spiritual community, had brought the German people "more damage than benefit.`20 The Jews had been "the first and most cruel persecutors of the young Church."'' The Jews had killed Jesus and in their boundless hatred of Christianity were still in the forefront of those seeking to destroy the Church."

  If we take into account this climate of opinion within the Church-all the sentiments just cited were published between 1933 and 1939 in journals edited by priests or in books bearing the Imprimatur-we will find it easier to understand how it happened that the Church retreated in the face of the Nazis' antisemitic legislation, even where these ordinances touched upon vital domains of ecclesiastical jurisdiction such as matrimony.

  According to canon law, the Church had exclusive jurisdiction over the marriage of Catholics. In practice, however, the Church in many countries had recognized the right of the state to impose certain conditions on marriage, so long as these did not conflict with natural law. Thus in Germany, the Church had long agreed to the provision that a civil marriage ceremony normally had to precede the ceremony conducted by the priest," and this agreement was ratified by the Concordat of 1933 between the Nazi government and the Vatican.

  As early as 1934 the Church had made clear to the Nazi government that the enactment of a law forbidding racially mixed marriages would create a very difficult situation. In the eyes of the Church, the German bishops pointed out in a memorandum, every Catholic, whether born to a pure German or to a racially mixed marriage, whether baptized as a child or as an adult, was equally entitled to the sacraments. Hence if two baptized persons of racially mixed stock insisted on being married by a priest, the latter would have to comply, even if the state were to have prohibited such a union."

  This, however, is precisely what the state soon did, for one of the practical results of the so-called Nuremberg laws of September 15, 1935, was to make it illegal for two Catholics to marry when one was considered racially "non-Aryan" under the standards set up by the law. (Since the persecution of the Jews had led to many new conversions to the Catholic religion, the number of such marriages was undoubtedly rising at the time.) The central office of information of the German episcopate in Berlin reported in September 1935 that earlier Catholic couples of racially mixed descent had been traveling to England to get married there, but now even those marriages had become illegal, and the Church had a very serious problem on its hands." What did it do? In some instances priests circumvented the law by using a provision of the Concordat of 1933 which, in cases of "great moral emergency," permitted a church marriage without a preceding civil but by and large the Church conformed to the law, bowing to what earlier it had termed an inadmissible infringement of its spiritual jurisdiction.

  For some elements in the Church, to be sure, bowing was unnecessary, for they actually welcomed the Nuremberg laws. While a distinguished German Catholic in exile, Waldemar Gurian, was denouncing the Nuremberg ordinances as violations of natural law and of the moral teachings of the Church, and declaring that they were "only a stage on the way toward the complete physical destruction of the Jews,"'- an article in the Klerusblatt of January 1936 was justifying the new anti-Jewish statutes as indispensable safeguards for the qualitative makeup of the German people." So, too, Bishop Hudal, the head of the German Church in Rome, said that the Nuremberg laws were a necessary measure of self-de
fense against the influx of foreign elements. The Church in her own legislation, the Bishop contended, had held a radical position on the Jewish question "until the walls of the Ghetto had been torn down in the nineteenth century by the liberal state first and not by the Church." Consequently, from the point of view of the Church, there could be no objection to laws containing discriminatory provisions for Jews. "The principles of the modern state [based on the rule of equal treatment before the law] have been created by the French Revolution and are not the best from the standpoint of Christianity and nationality."'"

  The Church surrendered in a similar fashion when the so-called Aryan Clause was applied to clerical teachers of religion. This ordinance, enacted in 1938, meant that priests teaching religion in the public schools had to submit proof of their Aryan descent before they could continue in their posts. However, the policy in question affected very few clerics and had no further ramifications. Such was not the case when the Church agreed to supply data from her own records on the religious origin of those under her care. A decree of April 7, 1933, which resulted in the discharge of numerous Catholic civil servants, had also provided for the dismissal of all Jews, except veterans of the First World War, from the civil service. Henceforth, anyone applying for government employment-and soon for various other positions as well-had to submit proof that he was not a Jew. Since prior to 1874-76 births had been registered only by the churches, the latter were asked to help in determining who was or was not fully Aryan, for under Nazi law this depended on the racial (i.e., religious) status of parents and grandparents. The Church cooperated as a matter of course, complaining only that priests already overburdened with work were not receiving compensation for this special service to the state." The very question of whether the Church should lend its help to the Nazi state in sorting out people of Jewish descent was never debated. On the contrary. "We have always unselfishly worked for the people without regard to gratitude or ingratitude," a priest wrote in the Klerusbintt in September of 1934. "We shall also do our best to help in this service to the people."" And the cooperation of the Church in this matter continued right through the war years when the price of being Jewish was no longer dismissal from a government job and loss of livelihood, but deportation and outright physical destruction.''

  The bishops sometimes showed concern for these non-Aryan Catholics, for whom the Church felt a special responsibility. Already in September 1933, Archbishop Bertram inquired from the Papal Secretary of State whether the Holy See could not put in a good word with the German government for the Jewish converts to the Catholic religion who were being made destitute on account of their non-Aryan descent." Soon the St. Rapkaelsverein, a Catholic organization founded in 1871 for the protection of German emigres, and presided over by Bishop Berning, began to take care of these Catholics. In the years 1936-37 the St. Rapliaelsverein helped 516 Catholic non-Aryans to emigrate; in 1938 it facilitated the emigration of 1,850 such persons.'

  But what of non-Aryans who were not members of the Catholic faith? During these years prior to the adoption of the Final Solution, a few instances are on record where individual churchmen did speak up in defense of the Jews. In March 1933, a priest in the Rhineland in a sermon characterized the vilification of the Jews as unjust and was fined 500 marks for abuse of the pulpit.` In 1934 another priest, who for reasons of safety chose to remain anonymous, took his Church to task for not helping the Jews." And yet another priest, in Bavaria in 1936, declared that the stories being told in Germany about the Jews were a pack of lies." In Berlin on the morning after the Kristallnncht pogrom of November 1938, Provost Bernhard Lichtenberg prayed for the persecuted non-Aryan Christians and Jews and added, "What took place yesterday, we know; what will be tomorrow, we do not know; but what happened today, that we have witnessed; outside [this church] the synagogue is burning, and that also is a house of God.""

  There probably were other such statements, and here and there acts of Samaritanism may have taken place that have remained unrecorded. But the Church as such, speaking through the voice of its bishops, extended neither aid nor sympathy to other than Catholic non-Aryans, and remained silent in the face of anti-Jewish legislation, burning temples, and the first roundups of Jews.

  3. The Final solution

  In a speech delivered on January 31, 1939, the Fiihrer served public notice of his intentions: "If international Jewry should succeed, in Europe or elsewhere, in precipitating nations into a world war, the result will not be the bolshevization of Europe and a victory for Judaism, but the extermination of the Jewish race.""A few months later Hitler attacked Poland and World War II began. On July 31, 1941, Reinhard Heydrich was charged "with making all necessary preparations ... for bringing about a complete solution of the Jewish question in the German sphere of influence in Europe.""' The machinery of destruction went into action.

  It began with a decree, dated September 1, 1941, that provided that no Jew was to leave his place of domicile without special permission, and could appear in public only when marked with a yellow star. The idea of marking the Jews had first been applied in Poland, and now the system of identification was extended to the entire Reich. The decree covered so-called Mosaic Jews as well as baptized Jews; only those who had converted before September 15, 1935 (the date of the Nuremberg laws), and non-Aryans married to Aryan partners were exempt.

  The wearing of the yellow star had a paralyzing effect upon those who were forced to do so. Many were afraid to leave their houses, and this fear created a special problem for the Catholics affected. In a number of towns, these non-Aryan Catholics applied to the police for permission to remove the yellow star while going to and attending church services, and they asked their bishops to support the request." Accordingly, Bishops Wienken and Berning in Berlin tried to obtain permission from the Gestapo for the "Jewish" Catholics not to wear the Star of David while in church. But their efforts failed-the Gestapo was adamant.

  Meanwhile, on September 17, Cardinal Bertram addressed a letter to the episcopate in which he counseled the avoidance of such "rash measures that could hurt the feelings of the Jewish Catholics as the introduction of special Jewish benches, separation when administering the sacraments, introduction of special services in specific churches or private houses." The segregation of the Catholic non-Aryans would violate Christian principles and therefore should be avoided as long as possible. (Priests might, however, advise Jewish Catholics to attend early mass whenever possible.) Admonitions to the faithful to exercise brotherly love toward the non-Aryans similarly should be postponed until disturbances resulted; and "Only when substantial difficulties result from attendance at church by the non-Aryan Catholics (like staying away of officials, party members and should the Catholic nonAryans be consulted about the holding of special services."

  Mass deportations of German Jews to the East began on October 15, 1941. Bishop Berning, in a letter of October 27, informed Cardinal Bertram that while discussing the question of the Jewish star with the Gestapo he had also pointed to the harshness accompanying "the evacuation of the non-Aryans" and had requested some amelioration. He had been told that Christian nonAryans would be evacuated only in exceptional cases (such as where earlier conflicts with the Gestapo had occurred). For the time being non-Aryans in mixed marriages would not be affected by these measures."

  The promises made by the Gestapo to Bishop Berning were, of course, not honored. On October 27, Bishop Hilfrich of Limburg informed Bishop Wienken, the episcopate's troubleshooter in Berlin, that the transport of Jews from Frankfurt earlier in the month had included Catholic non-Aryans to whom no preferred treatment had been granted. Their fate was especially sad since they were being regarded by their "Rassengenossen" (fellow Jews) as apostates. Hilfrich inquired whether for this reason it might not be possible to secure their exemption; if that could not be done, they should at least be put into special settlements where they could be given religious care more easily." Wienken replied a few days later that negotiations in the matter of t
he deportation of Catholic non-Aryans had been started at the highest level." The bishops of the Cologne and Paderborn church provinces, meeting in November 1941, also suggested that the government be petitioned in the matter of the deportations. They furthermore recommended that non-Aryan or half-Aryan priests and nuns volunteer to accompany the deportees in order to hold services for them and provide religious instruction for the children."

  Meanwhile, rumors were spreading about the fate of the Jews in the East. These rumors had been making the rounds ever since the attack upon Russia on June 22, 1941, which had brought in its wake the employment of special detachments (Einsatzgruppen) assigned to the job of machine-gunning Jews. By the end of 1941 the first news had also trickled back about the fate of the deported German Jews who had been shot by mobile killing detachments near Riga and Minsk." And in the spring of 1942 the "White Rose," an organization made up of a group of students and a professor of philosophy at the University of Munich, distributed leaflets telling of the murder of 300,000 Jews in Poland and asking why the German people were being so apathetic in the face of these revolting crimes."

  In December 1941, the first death camp had begun operations near Lodz. Sobibor, Treblinka, and Auschwitz went into operation in the course of the year 1942. By the end of 1942 more than 100,000 German Jews had been sent to their death in the East, and the vague rumors about their fate had been replaced now by hard and persistent reports that included details of the mass gassings. In August, 1942, Colonel Kurt Gerstein, who had joined the SS to investigate the stories of extermination for himself, tried to tell the Papal Nuncio in Berlin about a gassing he had witnessed near Lublin. When Monsignor Orsenigo refused to receive him, he told his story to Dr. Winter, the legal adviser of Bishop Preysing of Berlin, and to a number of other persons. He also requested that the report be forwarded to the Holy See.a" During the same period, other reports about the extermination of the Jews reached the bishops through Catholic officers serving in Poland and Russia."" For a long time Dr. Joseph Muller, an officer in Canaris's Military Intelligence Service and also a confidant of Cardinal Faulhaber, had kept the episcopate well informed about the systematic atrocities committed in Poland." Another source of information was Dr. Hans Globke, a Catholic and a high official in the Ministry of the Interior entrusted with handling racial matters. It is clear, then, that by the end of the year 1942 at the latest, the German episcopate was possessed of quite accurate knowledge of the horrible events unfolding in the East.