Bishops Blasted

With a telephone as his weapon, the Rev. Ludwig Mueller fought desperately last week to keep his job as the Reichsbischof of German Protestants. In Berlin Dr. Mueller was all but alone. The last member of his "Spiritual Cabinet" had just resigned. Like Premier Goering of Prussia he had not appeared on Chancellor Hitler's official New Year's greeting list, a potent snub (see p. 28).

One hundred and ten miles away in Halle, the Protestant bishops of the States of Germany met under strong pressure from the Pastors' Emergency Federation of 4,000 to depose Reichsbischof Mueller. At 11 a. m. Dr. Mueller put through a pleading telephone call. At 1 p. m. he begged again by telephone for delay. At 5 p. m. his call sounded almost frantic. Grimly the young Emergency Pastors hammered at their old bishops. The Church must oust Mueller, they thundered. He might not be in favor of Nazi schemes to paganize German Christianity by introducing elements of Wotanism and to tear out of Bibles the "Jewish" Old Testament, but certainly he had shown himself no defender of the Church against such "reforms." What was there to fear from ousting Mueller? Had he not been dropped from Hitler's New Year's list?

In their wisdom the old bishops decided to sleep on the question. While they slept Dr. Mueller called on psychic Chancellor Hitler in the middle of the night. Next morning Reichsbischof Mueller picked up his telephone again, rang up Halle and talked turkey in a voice that made the bishops quake.

'The Chancellor was incensed!" roared the Reichsbischof. "He flared up when he learned that you might rupture the unity of the Church. His righteous anger was terrible to behold!"

Blasted by these words, the bishops hastily dispersed, leaving the Emergency Pastors to hold the bag of blame. It was said that in Prussia Premier Goering, anxious to regain his standing with the Chancellor, would proceed violently against them.

Arrogant in what he took to be his hour of triumph, the Reichsbischof smacked down a decree purporting to make himself dictator of the church. He forbade pastors and church dignitaries to oppose him in print by issuing hand bills (the Press being gagged) or by word of mouth, in or out of their pulpits. Disobedients were threatened with "disciplinary action." Seizing upon this the 4,000 Emergency Pastors denounced the Reichsbischof from their pulpits next day (Sunday) for threatening them with force, also denounced their craven bishops, tore German protestantism wide open with a nation-wide reaffirmation of Martin Luther's words in 1530, when he advised pastors "under commandment of God, not to obey bishops in cases where they err."

"With regard to the Reichsbischof," concluded the Emergency Pastors' proclamation, "we must obey God, rather than men!"

In Berlin's Church of St. Paul the Apostle the No. 1 Emergency Pastor, Rev. Martin Niemoeller, urged 1,000 blue-clad boys of the Pastor's newly-formed German Bible Circle to "Resist! Resist! Resist!" Bravely chanting the Protestant youth hymn ending "Ever Faithful to God!" the adolescents marched out of the church, attempted to parade. Menaced by brawny Prussian police, they rolled up their banners, put away their band instruments, scurried home. Priests had been sent to prison camps, despite the fact that Chancellor Hitler is nominally a Catholic. Not to be downed, the Catholic Bishop of Mainz ordered priests in his diocese not to permit Nazi flags to be flown from their churches, a practice now common throughout the Reich. But Rome's most potent blast was hurled by Michael Cardinal Faulhaber, doughty Archbishop of Munich. Speaking ex cathedra from St. Michael's, which was jammed to overflowing with Munich Catholics, His Eminence thundered: "Let us not forget that we were saved not by German blood but by the blood of Christ!" Storm Troopers did not set upon Cardinal Faulhaber. They let him proceed to ridicule the myths of "Teuton supremacy" in ancient times--myths, said His Eminence, which, even if taken at their face value, show the earliest and purest Teutons to have been slothful, self-indulgent, quarrelsome and degraders of women whom they condemned to the lowest menial tasks. Only a cardinal, a Prince of the Church, could get away with such talk. Storm Troopers recently arrested a priest for saying mass over six Communists whose heads were about to be chopped off, another priest for "disparaging the Nazi movement,'' a third for holding a Catholic meeting "at the very hour when all Germany was supposed to harken to the words of our Chancellor over the radio."

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