Recently, I read an article by Timothy George about Dietrich Bonhoeffer's time in prison. Bonhoeffer was a Lutheran pastor implicated in the plot to assassinate Hitler, dramatized recently in the movie "Valkerie." He was arrested, imprisoned, and finally executed in Flossenburg prison just days before it was liberated by the Allies. His was a close family, and he missed them dearly, especially during Advent and Christmas. His writings, compiled in the book "Letters and Papers from Prison," reveal a depth of faith that is unlike the shallow drivel we so often hear from Christians at this time of year. This first was written in 1942, before his arrest.
"The joy of God goes through the poverty of the manger and the agony of the cross; that is why it is invincible, irrefutable. It does not deny the anguish, when it is there, but finds God in the midst of it, in fact precisely there; it does not deny grave sin but finds forgiveness precisely in this way; it looks death straight in the eye, but it finds life precisely within it."
Eight months after his arrest, Bonhoeffer wrote these words, “By the way, a prison cell like this is a good analogy for Advent; one waits, hopes, does this or that—ultimately negligible things—the door is locked and can only be opened from the outside.” Advent reminds us that misery, sorrow, poverty, loneliness, helplessness, and guilt mean something quite different in the eyes of God than according to human judgment; that God turns toward the very places from which humans turn away; that Christ was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn—a prisoner grasps this better than others. And for them, this is truly good news."
“We simply have to wait and wait,” he wrote. “The celebration of Advent is possible only to those troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come.”
In December of 1944 he spent his second Advent in prison, and found strength in an old hymn "By Gracious Powers," with lyrics that didn't sentimentalize Christmas, but accepted the hand of God working in the harshest and most desolate of circumstances.
"By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered,
and confidently waiting come what may,
we know that God is with us night and morning,
and never fails to greet us each new day.
And when this cup you give is filled to brimming
with bitter suffering, hard to understand,
we take it thankfully and without trembling
out of so good and so beloved a hand.
Yet when again in this same world you give us
the joy we had, the brightness of your sun,
we shall remember all the days we lived through
and our whole life shall then be yours alone."
About the same time Bonhoeffer sang this hymn from a cold, hard cell, Bing Crosby was crooning, dreaming of a White Christmas. Two men living at the same time, but in vastly different realities. I love Bing's version of "White Christmas." It's the definitive version, but offers sentiment that only works when life is relatively calm and peaceful. When the powers of hell unleash their unmitigated fury, we need more than sentiment. We need reality that has been invaded by grace. I don't mind watching the Hallmark Christmas Specials with Linda. They're predictable holiday pablum. But when that artificial gospel gets proclaimed from Christian pulpits, I get irritated. I need, and am grateful for, the Gospel that doesn't shrink from the harsh realities of life, but meets them head on with grace that is tough and strong. We need no less, and get much more. Thanks be to God!
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