This is the story, told in full for the first time, of Eberhard Arnold
(1883-1935). A man for today's seekers, he faced life's essential
questions head on, and once he had struggled his way through to an
answer, he tried to live it.
"Against the Wind: Eberhard Arnold and the Bruderhof" (originally
pubished in German) explores the forces that shaped Arnold's life and his
own influence on other spiritual leaders of his day - Karl Barth, Paul
Tillich, and Martin Buber among them. It recounts his renunciation of
private property and military service, and explains his abhorrence of
conventional piety on the one hand, and his love for the early church
fathers on the other.
Most of all, "Against the Wind: Eberhard Arnold and the Bruderhof" gives
flesh, blood, and personality to a man whose unwavering convictions made
him at once hated and admired, a man whom some called an enemy of the
State and others a modern Saint Francis. Arnold walked resolutely against
the prevailing winds, even as Nazism engulfed Germany. The Bruderhof
movement, which carries on his commitment to integrate faith and social
action, is a witness to his continuing legacy.
The author, Markus Baum, is a popular German journalist and radio
commentator.
Download the free e-book of "Against the Wind: Eberhard Arnold and the
Bruderhof" at
http://www.bruderhof.com/e-books/AgainstTheWind.htm
For more on the early history of the Bruderhof Communities see "A Joyful
Pilgrimage" also available free online:
http://www.bruderhof.com/e-books/AJoyfulPilgrimage.htm
The aim of this book is not to exalt the man, Eberhard Arnold, or the
Bruderhof movement he helped to found. Rather, it is to witness to God’s
faithfulness and God’s intervention in human history. Yet it remains true
that God can only act in human history through people. Arnold’s
commitment to discipleship, community, nonviolence, and his faith in the
immediate reality of God’s kingdom continue to inspire and challenge all
who seek to follow Christ.
And it is also true that the Bruderhof movement is today a vibrant
community of faith from which we at Sojourners have received great
insight and strength over the years. Our 1984 visit to the Woodcrest
Bruderhof in upstate New York was one of the most profound community
exchanges I have ever experienced. There is a deep wisdom at the
Bruderhof about how Christians can live together. A strong presence of
love exists among them – not the sentimental kind that relies on
excessive words, but rather a mutual respect, a readiness to serve, and a
joy in one another that has been born of much faith and struggle.
Our life at Sojourners has been enriched and strengthened through sharing
with the Bruderhof the joys and struggles of our attempt to faithfully
live the kingdom of God in the world. Our shared belief that the gospel
calls us to live in relationship with the poor continues to shape our
vision and work at Sojourners.
The Bruderhof is continuing on a journey, one that in recent years has
led them into the pain, injustice, and suffering of the world. A new
movement of the Spirit has led them to minister in the prisons, to march
for peace, and to journey to far-off places of conflict. Their
involvement in the campaign against capital punishment has powerfully
demonstrated the truth of the gospel.
This active involvement remains grounded in the faithful witness of the
past, in the integrity and vitality of community life. It also raises a
challenge for the future: is this involvement in the world putting the
integral life of Christian community at risk? From our experience at
Sojourners, I can testify to the inevitable tensions that arise in the
efforts to maintain community while being involved with suffering
humanity. I pray that the Bruderhof will continue to follow the way of
Jesus in community and in the world.
And as I witness the rising involvement of the Bruderhof, I sometimes
wonder what Eberhard Arnold would be thinking. I suspect he would be
smiling.
Jim Wallis, Sojourners
March, 1998
Wherever something of Eberhard’s personality surfaces, one immediately
senses a powerful eruption of life. Strangely, though, he himself seems
hidden behind all his writings: articles, books, and thou- sands of
letters. His image and influence is diffused throughout a movement that
still recognizes his authority today. But Eberhard Arnold the man remains
in the background, out of the limelight, sheltered in the shadows of the
truth he represented. He staked his life on an overwhelming reality. It
completely consumed him.
Eberhard’s life story reads like a novel. It is gripping drama. But this
biography can also be viewed as a slice of history – contemporary,
church, and cultural – and hardly a boring one, considering Eberhard’s
era. Hence the notes and index, which readers with specific interests
will find useful.
Who was Eberhard Arnold? Undoubtedly he was a man, not a polished
monolith. How did he become the man he was? What was he like? What
brought him happiness or torment? What challenged him? What were his
weaknesses? When were his decisive moments? What was the sum total of his
life, and why is it relevant today? These questions prompted this book.
Some of their answers, however, must be found by probing between the
lines.
Markus Baum
Nevertheless, in spite of his personal doubts, Eberhard was certain of his
faith – an almost childlike relationship to Jesus Christ. And he was
waiting for a clear call from him.2 The call eventually came, though not
overnight, and not in a blinding vision. It came step by step.
> "To hear and read the words of Jesus is dangerous."
> Eberhard Arnold, 1929
>
Origins
Eberhard was born on July 26, 1883, in the farming country near Königsberg.
His full name was Eberhard Arthur Julius Arnold.3 He was the third child
born to Elisabeth Arnold née Voigt.4 His mother came from a family of
scholars. Her father was a professor of church history and dogmatic
theology at the Königsberg University. Her grandfather and great-uncle on
her mother’s side were also theology professors and influential men in the
Prussian Union of the Evangelical Church.
The family tree of Eberhard’s father is equally interesting. Carl Franklin
Arnold was a doctor of theology and philosophy.5 At the time of Eberhard’s
birth he was teaching at a high school in Königsberg. The son of American
and German missionaries, Carl Franklin Arnold had grown up in Bremen in the
care of an aristocratic family named Gildemeister. Eberhard’s paternal
grandfather, Franklin Luther Arnold, had been pastor of a reformed
Protestant church in the United States. He met his wife, Maria Arnold née
Ramsauer, while he was serving as a missionary in Africa. Her family, of
Swiss origin, claimed several generations of educators, lawyers, and
theologians; Eberhard’s great-grandfather, Johannes Ramsauer, had worked
closely with the famous Swiss educator Heinrich Pestalozzi. In short,
Eberhard Arnold was born into an upper middle-class family, proud of its
heritage and intellectually gifted. His brother, Hermann, was three years
his senior. So Eberhard felt closer to his older sister, Clara, since they
were only seventeen months apart. Two more children followed Eberhard:
Elisabeth (“Betty”), born in 1885, and Hannah, born three years later.
In 1888 Carl Franklin Arnold was appointed professor of church history at
Breslau University. As a result, Eberhard’s world shifted from East
Prussia to Silesia. He was a happy child (“sunny and harmonious,” his
sister Clara described him),6 somewhat dreamy and inattentive in school.
But already as a boy he showed a pronounced sense of justice and a
sensitivity to the atmosphere emanating from other people. From the
briefest encounter, he seemed able to discern the essence of a person’s
nature. However, he preferred to share such observations with his sisters
rather than his classmates.
Each morning the family gathered and Carl Franklin Arnold read from the
Moravian Brethren’s daily texts. In the evening he treated his children,
some of whom had not even reached school age, to “The Sorcerer’s
Apprentice” and other poetic works of Goethe, whom he greatly admired.
Neither the daily texts nor Goethe’s poetry seem to have made any lasting
impression on the children; presumably for the little ones it all simply
passed over their heads. But as they grew older, their father expected them
to participate in intellectual discussions on topics ranging from the
cultural history of the eighteenth century and the German idealism of
Fichte, Schelling, and Schleiermacher to the intellectual prowess of
Carlyle and Macaulay. Carl Franklin Arnold’s enthusiasm for the German
philosophers was summed up in his harsh censure of those closing years of
the nineteenth century: “Our era is extremely boring as far as any higher
thought is concerned. Since Bismarck’s day our policies have been
thoroughly stupid, if not fundamentally flawed.”
Eberhard’s father rarely relaxed or enjoyed himself. He could be
cheerful, even happy, but for the most part reserved these emotions for
family celebrations. Surprisingly, he raised no objections to the
children’s absorption in the wildly fanciful adventure stories of Karl
May. Eberhard crafted the fine art of smuggling these books – full of
Arabian mystique or Native-American suspense – into the Sunday church
service. But his father had little understanding for children’s nonsense.
“You are intellectually dead,” he once informed his offspring when he
caught them in trivial conversation.
Eberhard’s mother had a more practical nature. She highly respected her
husband’s erudition, but from time to time questioned the point of his
endless research, or would have liked to see more of him – “You should
have been a monk,” she would say. A hospitable woman who enjoyed company,
Elisabeth Arnold was always full of bustling activity, a trait she passed
on to her son. Her husband permitted her – although not entirely
voluntarily – the unrestricted control of her household. This required
considerable organization, since it totaled nine members: the parents,
five children, and two maids. Elisabeth Arnold insisted that her children
be careful and thorough. It was usually late evening before she allowed
herself to relax and to read newspapers and magazines. Her manner towards
others was very direct and could even appear unfeeling, though in fact
she was warmhearted and quite approachable. Unlike her husband, she
possessed a vein of ironic humor. She was tall, blonde, and blue-eyed.
Eberhard wrote about his mother’s unusually penetrating gaze, apparently
without any idea that many people saw the same from his eyes.
In spite of her strictness, Elisabeth Arnold always maintained a good
relationship with her children and never let a rift develop between
them.11 Carl Franklin Arnold, on the other hand, in his eagerness to
foster intellectual discussion, was ready to push things to extremes,
even when the children were quite young. All in all, Eberhard and his
siblings went through a strenuous but markedly successful course of
character building.
One question, however, was not up for discussion in the Arnold household:
the matter of class differences. Until he was twelve, Eberhard had very
little contact with the “common people.” At school he interacted almost
exclusively with middle-class boys, who were all well aware of their
social standing. So it startled him to discover that many people lived a
life far simpler and less complicated than his, and yet could still be
happy, warm-hearted, and genuine. Then, Eberhard met a homeless man and
brought him into his parents’ elegant home. A short time later, while on
a trip to the mountains, he exchanged his hat for the filthy cap of an
elderly destitute man, and was rewarded with not only a scolding from his
parents but head lice as well. Why, Eberhard began to wonder, should
someone who was poor automatically be labeled wicked and criminal? His
parents could not always satisfy him with their evasive answers, and at
times he contradicted them. Eberhard knew well enough from his
experiences at the Johannes High School in Breslau that wealth and a
highly respected family were no guarantee of good behavior or an
exemplary life. A factory owner’s son was a thief; the sons of army
officers and government officials were rude and malicious. As Eberhard
became a teenager, his youthful view of the world began to waver.
When it was all over, Eberhard must have sought out his father again. He
had a question to ask: could confirmation – the affirmation of faith –
become a personal experience, and if so, how? But Carl Franklin Arnold
was unable to provide a satisfactory answer. As a child in the
Gildemeister household in Bremen, Eberhard’s father had undoubtedly
encountered a heartfelt, cheerful piety. His foster parents and their
relatives had followed the traditions of the bible scholar Samuel
Collenbusch and the Bremen minister Gottfried Menken. Carl Franklin
Arnold had adopted his foster parents’ respect for these role models – he
subjected his wife and children to endless readings from old sermons by
Menken. But the Gildemeister’s natural and carefree faith remained
foreign to Eberhard’s father. He always had a deep reverence for God and
his commandments, and felt obliged to strive in all earnestness for
personal holiness and moral improvement. Carl Franklin Arnold could spend
hours meditating over a text from the Psalms or wrestling with God in
prayer over the most profound concerns of humanity. At such times he
would shut himself into his study. When he left it hours later, the
children often saw that their father was crushed and depressed. Carl
Franklin Arnold obviously found neither strength nor joy in prayer. He
could tell his son nothing different: he won certainty of forgiveness,
even of eternal salvation, only in this hard and painful manner – through
continuous wrestling in prayer.
Through his confirmation Eberhard became more keenly aware than ever
before of the social abyss between the educated, prosperous elite and the
simple working-class people. The manner in which his family dressed
sparked this awareness. Only the upper crust could attend church as they
did – for confirmation, Eberhard wore a new black suit and Clara a white
dress. Poorer children did not have special clothes for special
occasions. Eberhard found this unjust and decided that he would not
recognize class distinctions. At first the only practical consequence of
his decision was his attitude toward the family’s maids. He now treated
them more considerately and occasionally lent them a helping hand.
Ernst Ferdinand Klein was a pastor in Lichtenrade, near Berlin. He had
formerly been a pastor in a Silesian weavers’ village. There he had stood
up for the interests of these cottage-industry workers far more strongly
than was customary, and he had publicly denounced their exploitation by the
textile mill owners. As a result, the Silesian Lutheran Church Counsel had
transferred him to another district. The sixteen-year-old Eberhard
naturally admired the militant pastor.
In the summer of 1899, Ernst Ferdinand Klein’s uncompromising love of truth
had once again made him enemies. As pastor, he had insisted that the
choirmaster be dismissed for indecent behavior with several school girls.
Though the man was removed, a large number of villagers now boycotted the
church services. So when Eberhard and Clara arrived, they found the
parsonage resembling a barricaded fortress. From time to time window panes
were shattered and threatening messages thrown through the holes.
These circumstances raised Eberhard’s estimation of his uncle still
higher. Here was a man like none other; the young man had never felt so
well understood by an adult. And there was something else about his uncle
that impressed Eberhard: he wrote later that in Uncle Ernst he found a
courageous, joyful Christianity and a love of Jesus and the poor such as
he had never before encountered.
During the four weeks at his aunt and uncle’s home, Eberhard discovered the
New Testament, and the Gospels in particular. He was embarrassed when
relatives suddenly came in and surprised him at his bible reading. He
neither wanted nor felt able to speak – even to his uncle – about the
questions it raised for him. Only when it came time to leave did Eberhard
disclose his anxiety that he had no one at his home who could help him to a
clearer understanding of Jesus. Ernst Ferdinand Klein tried to dispel his
worries.
Back in Breslau at the beginning of August, Eberhard and Clara each
stayed with different family friends while their parents vacationed on
the North Sea coast with the two youngest daughters, Betty and Hannah.
Eberhard stayed with an elderly professor and his family. This man was
also a professing Christian, but he was very sober and rigid – hardly a
confidant. Fortunately, Eberhard discovered in his room a copy of Thomas
à Kempis’s The Imitation of Christ, a work already five centuries old.
Eberhard Arnold had found a key to the Gospels and a guide for following
in Jesus’ footsteps: “‘He who follows me, does not walk in darkness,’
says the Lord. In these words Christ urges us to imitate his life and
actions if we want to find true enlightenment and be freed from all
blindness of heart. Therefore it must be our first concern to immerse
ourselves in the life of Jesus Christ.”
On the surface Eberhard’s behavior hardly altered – at least not until
October 2, 1899. While walking downtown that day he suddenly came to a
decision, turned off the main street, and made his way to the young
pastor’s house. Apparently the pastor was not particularly surprised to see
him, and he listened to Eberhard’s flood of questions and reproaches, among
them, “Why do I hear so little about the Holy Spirit from you? I long for
the working of Jesus’ spirit.” To this the pastor calmly responded that it
was simply and solely the working of the Holy Spirit that had brought his
“young friend” to him. After imparting some careful advice, he sent
Eberhard home. Once there, Eberhard shut himself in the drawing room,
leafed through his pocket Bible to the third chapter of John’s Gospel, and
read it aloud. Then and there, on October 2, 1899, Eberhard Arnold spelled
out for himself the meaning of “born again” (John 3:3); confessed his
belief in Jesus, the Son of God (John 3:16); and in reading the words of
John :21, resolved to break with all sinful behavior and, in the future,
“to act according to the truth.” What is more, he weighed in detail the
change in lifestyle and the costs that this step would demand of him.
In his intense enthusiasm, the sixteen-year-old set stipulations: he agreed
to attend the gatherings on the condition that he could speak openly to the
guests and point out the errors of their ways.
Even on New Year’s Eve, when the family and a few students sat together
over a bowl of punch to welcome in the year 1900, Eberhard related his
encounter with Jesus and challenged the relatives and guests to seize the
hour and seek such experiences. His father attempted to play down the
guests’ embarrassment by reading Psalm 103, as he did every year, and then
starting their traditional chorale, “Now let us enter with singing and
prayer before the Lord who has given us strength to live until this time.”
The rift between father and son increased when Eberhard questioned the
large reception his parents held twice a year. He criticized the
tremendous expense – “two hundred marks for food and drink” –and pointed
out that all the invited guests were wealthy and well-fed. He reminded
his father of the working-class families in the eastern section of
Breslau and of Jesus’ words: “When you give a party…go out into the
streets and invite the very poorest who can never invite you in return”
(Luke 14:12). To Carl Franklin Arnold, this behavior was nothing short of
insolent, and he ordered his son to stay in his room. Misunderstandings
between father and son continued. Both suffered as a result.
In the meantime the bible study group grew to fifty members. When the young
pastor was transferred, leadership fell to Eberhard. His missionary zeal
and his strong sense of responsibility for his friends as fellow seekers
cost him much time and energy. Small wonder that his achievement level at
high school sank once again.
Most of the soldiers were themselves poor and were usually malnourished and
pale, but they shared an amazing repertoire of spirited Salvation Army
marching songs. Eberhard felt right at home in their company. At the age of
eighteen he began on occasion to preach in the Stockgasse district. At
twenty, he could be found with the Salvation Army’s newspaper, The War Cry,
in hand, addressing strangers on sidewalks and in department stores.
Without much ceremony, he would challenge them to surrender their lives to
Jesus.
Eberhard had finally found a topic his father could support, though it
troubled Carl Franklin Arnold a little that his son was interested in – of
all things – what seemed to him an unsuccessful offshoot of the
Reformation. Nonetheless, he put his research library of scholarly books at
his son’s disposal and entertained long conversations about the Anabaptist
movement, comparing its path to the course of Martin Luther’s church.
Ich glaube für Seelen,
Ich lasse sie nie,
Ich will es erwählen
Zu glauben für sie.
Ich liebe die Brüder,
Ich lasse sie nicht.
Ich will immer wieder
Sie suchen im Licht.
EA ca. 1905
On the evening following his high school graduation, the rug was pulled out
from under him when his father, the theology professor, announced to the
entire family that he expected to see his own son among his lecture
audience. Eberhard struggled for arguments against this pronouncement: he
felt no vocation for theology. He already knew he could not become a
pastor; however, he could picture himself working diligently as a doctor.
But Carl Franklin Arnold swept aside his son’s doubts and wishes. He
made it plain that he would see at least one of his sons study theology.
(Hermann, his first-born, had already become a lawyer.) Eberhard’s
father pointed to the wide sphere of influence assured by a career in
the pulpit and to the long line of theologians and pastors among his
forebears. His final, crushing argument: studying medicine demanded a
great deal of time and money; his son had already procrastinated his
studies long enough. “You will study theology!” Carl Franklin Arnold
ordered. Case closed.
A letter from the founder of the Salvation Army, General William Booth,
seemed to confirm Eberhard’s feelings. Between June 1902 and November 1904,
Booth made five evangelistic missions (“campaigns” in Salvation Army
language) to various German towns. It is no longer possible to establish
who first called his attention to the young enthusiast with missionary and
pastoral gifts, nor when and where this occurred. Be that as it may, in the
letter in question Booth invited Eberhard to serve in the Salvation Army.
This letter played a part in a talk Eberhard had with his parents, but it
did not make the same impression on Carl Franklin and Elisabeth Arnold as
it had on their son. His parents showed understanding for his inner turmoil
and self-doubt, and they urged him not to rush to a decision. They
encouraged him first to attend an upcoming SCM conference where he could
discuss his situation with friends.
A guest from overseas, the evangelist Dr. Torrey of Chicago, provided still
more topics for discussion.6 He spoke enthusiastically about “the personal
experience of the Holy Spirit’s power” and of the experience of “baptism by
the Spirit,” sprinkling his lecture with impressive anecdotes from the life
of Dwight L. Moody. Clara did not make any specific written reference to
Torrey, but did allude to him, affirming that “the presence of the Holy
Spirit could be clearly sensed” in many of the people at the conference.
Years later Eberhard would still value and recommend Torrey’s little volume
How to Obtain Fullness of Power. He would write that “Torrey is actually
very good.”
All these impressions and the encouragement of both older and younger SCM
members put an end to the past months of colorless existence and helped
Eberhard to overcome his dissatisfaction. Following the conference, a few
weeks on the North Sea island of Langeoog completed the cure. With his
parents’ consent he took a break from the family to spend time alone in
nature, to think and to be with God.
Afterwards, he was still not convinced that he was really called to study
theology, but he was at least ready to fall in step with his parents’
wishes and to push on resolutely with his theological studies.
Culturally, too, Halle had much to offer. A dozen student associations vied
for the attention of the city’s two thousand students. These associations
ran the gamut from “Christian” student fraternities and Protestant and
Catholic societies for young people (the YMCA and Youth for Christ, for
example) to various athletic and cultural clubs, as well as political and
patriotic societies. Naturally, this spectrum included a chapter of the
SCM, located in the neighborhood of the Royal University of Halle-
Wittenberg. Eberhard’s name first appeared on the roster there in November
1905.
Playing the piano and organ compositions of Gluck, Mendelssohn, and
Schubert, as well as chorales from the Reformation and hymns from the
English revival movement, helped him overcome his loneliness. And now he
had his nephew to keep him company.
For Eberhard this was in all respects a favorable place to live. At the
YMCA just around the corner in the Geiststrasse was the meeting room used
by the SCM every Thursday evening at 8:30. Fifteen minutes on foot along
the Friedrichstrasse took him to the university. The Rosenthal Mission
House, located on a side street behind the theater, was only a ten-minute
walk. But his uncle’s home lacked the hospitality of his parents’ house in
Breslau. Heinrich Voigt had been granted a sabbatical during the winter
term 1905–1906 in order to write his book The Oldest Accounts of the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ: A Critical-Historical Examination. Hosting
visitors was out of the question. However, the professor was quite content
to have his nephew available in the evenings for conversation or a game of
chess. On those occasions, for better or for worse, Eberhard had to cancel
his own plans and let his fellow students go out without him.
Of the more than three hundred theology majors, Eberhard’s SCM friends were
undoubtedly the closest to him. Among these are names like Hermann Schafft
and Friedrich Siegmund-Schultze, whom Eberhard Arnold had known since his
schooldays in Breslau – men who would play a role in his future. His
acquaintance with other students was not limited to those with a marked
revivalist background, however. For example, Eberhard attended a semester’s
worth of theology lectures with a student named Paul Tillich. Though their
ways parted, their paths crossed again many years later.
Karl Heim, hardly ten years older than the students, was regarded by many
of them as a quasi-father figure. This was especially true of SCM members,
who found in him a spiritual kinship and common language. Until 1898 Dr.
Heim had served on the executive committee of the SCM chapter in Halle, and
from 1899 until 1902 he had made the circuit as full-time traveling
secretary for the movement. His spiritual authority was unquestionable.
The seminary offered ample opportunities for the exchange of ideas. Here,
Eberhard and Karl Heim laid the foundation for a lasting (if not
particularly close) friendship. In the years to come, the two would hold
many discussions. They would argue over the consequences stemming from
their shared spiritual recognitions. They would draw entirely different
conclusions and move in completely different directions. Yet, right until
the end of Eberhard’s life, Karl Heim always took an interest in him.
He alone is the firm rock of salvation for the anchorless wrecks that are
tossed here and there in the opinions and tendencies of the present day…We
want to put him in the center of a world that mocks him and says he is
outdated…We do not want to be or become an isolated sect, but rather a
missionizing power for all groups in our universities. We do not want to
set up a party or direction within Christianity, but rather to unite
Christians of every hue under the banner of Jesus…Only Jesus! That is the
motto of our movement. We know we do not belong to ourselves any longer,
but that he has redeemed us to God by his blood.
Eberhard’s maturity and his activity in the local SCM soon gained wider
recognition. Before long he was asked to participate as a “student member”
on the SCM’s national executive committee. Within the circle of
intellectual and influential men in which Eberhard now found himself was a
face not altogether unfamiliar to him – he already knew Ludwig von Gerdtell
from the itinerant Baptist lecturer’s early days as SCM secretary.
Back in 1902, a week of lectures by von Gerdtell in Breslau had inspired a
small revival among the local secondary students. Von Gerdtell, eleven
years Eberhard’s senior, was a brilliant and powerful speaker. Originally,
aside from his law practice, he had also traveled around the country giving
popular religious lectures for the general public. He rejected infant
baptism, lashed out at the state church, and did not shrink from taking the
offensive in discussions on modern science. He attached importance to
cultivated manners, but could be deliberately rude and hurtful. He enjoyed
making jokes at other people’s expense. This had assured him of an
attentive audience over many years. Karl Heim, who admired von Gerdtell,
wrote of him in 1906: “The truth of Jesus’ sayings is proved with a
lawyer’s logic and is interspersed with strikingly powerful testimonies.”
Eberhard’s relationship with Karl Heim may well have influenced his
assessment of von Gerdtell since, in spite of their undeniable friendship,
Eberhard found Heim “too compliant and, as a Christian, too ready to
yield.” Perhaps von Gerdtell’s resolve and unbending pursuit of truth
attracted Eberhard the most. All the same, others felt this to be
truthfulness without love, firmness to the point of opinionatedness. Did
all this pass unnoticed by only this one particular student who possessed
an acute mind and a delicate appreciation for what was genuine and what was
not? Some things in the one-sided relationship remain enigmatic.
Von Gerdtell’s vocation was “work among educated people” –bringing the
gospel to the elite, rich, influential upper class. Eberhard found out
firsthand the success of this strategy. Ludwig von Gerdtell gave two
sensational lecture courses in Halle, one before Christmas 1906 and one
at the beginning of 1907. Eberhard and Karl Heim played a leading part in
their preparation. Themes for von Gerdtell’s lectures included “Christ’s
Atoning Sacrifice” and “Can Modern Man Still Believe in the Resurrection
of Jesus?” This stirred up an outright revival among educated middle-
class people. True, the Halle daily newspaper gave it only a brief nod
and quickly reverted to its usual bill of fare of current events: turmoil
in Russia, the South African Boer War, the Kaiser’s birthday, and what
might be expected from the Social Democrats. But for many people the
lectures provided topics of conversation for months to come. Printed
copies were passed on from hand to hand, and prayer and bible study
groups formed in the private homes of prominent Halle citizens.
A frequent guest in this group was Bernhard Kühn, secretary for the
Evangelical Alliance House in Bad Blankenburg. Kühn was a simple man, small
and physically deformed. He was anything but an intellectual, yet he
possessed immense charisma. He edited the Evangelical Alliance Magazine,
the mouthpiece for the Evangelical Alliance center. The magazine did not
have a wide circulation – about four thousand in 1907. But Kühn’s Free
Brethren background quickly became a bone of contention because he lacked
any understanding or sympathy for the state church, and he forcefully
pronounced his criticisms right and left. In spite of this, or perhaps even
because of it, the Evangelical Alliance Magazine served as a first-rate
pulpit and was attentively read.
Whether Eberhard offered his services (which is rather unlikely) or someone
else recommended him is of little importance. Bernhard Kühn took him on as
a writer for the magazine and can be credited with having promoted
Eberhard’s fruitful and many-sided talent for writing.
On this particular evening at the Baehrs’ home, Eberhard spoke on a passage
from Hebrews 10. About twenty-five people – Karl Heim among them – heard
the young theology student give a penetrating, very personal talk on the
Bible. “He spoke with such burning power, such fire and conviction, that at
the end everyone crowded around him, asking if he intended to become a
missionary…I had never heard or experienced anything like it in my life,”
wrote an eye- and ear-witness, a nurse who worked in a deaconess hospital
in Salzwedel and happened to be spending her vacation with her parents in
Halle. Eberhard had noticed her as soon as he entered the drawing room and
found himself thinking, the girl I marry should be like that. The young
woman’s name was Emmy von Hollander. Eberhard only discovered this a few
days later.
With her self-assured manner, her natural, blond curls (which seemed
reluctant to be put up in the fashionable style), and her direct gaze
from conspicuously blue eyes, Emmy Monika Else von Hollander made an
attractive first impression. Born on December 25, 1884, in the Latvian
capital of Riga, she had grown up first in Jena and then, following 1897,
in Halle. Spiritual matters had fascinated her ever since a friend had
introduced her to the family of Pastor Meinhof, a minister in Halle. As a
teenager she had taken great interest in the history of the Moravian
Brethren and their founder, Zinzendorf. She became absorbed in studying
old and new hymns and spiritual songs, and read with enthusiasm Thomas à
Kempis’s Imitation of Christ. A parallel experience?
At seventeen Emmy enrolled as a student nurse at the deaconesses’ institute
in Halle. At nineteen she worked for a time as a nanny for Pastor Freybe
and his family, friends in Stappenbeck near Salzwedel (about seventy miles
southeast of Hamburg). She spent 1905 working as an intern at the
deaconesses’ center, but gave it up by the end of the year because of poor
health and emotional burnout. Pastor Freybe arranged for her to begin work
in February of 1906 at the hospital of the Order of St. John in Salzwedel.
Emmy worked gladly and dedicatedly as a nurse, but the suffering and death
that so often confronted her – both in the hospital and, from an early age,
within her own family – made her think about the sometimes mysterious will
of God, about his compassion, and about the brevity of life. “What troubled
me was that I felt something divided me from God,” she later said about
this period. “I could not understand how God, who is pure and holy, had
chosen such unholy people for his own, and I found no real answer to this
question…”
In this inner state and lured by a certain curiosity, Emmy von Hollander
made her way to Frau Baehr’s drawing room. Upon arrival in Halle for a
month’s holiday with her parents, she had found her siblings full of
enthusiasm over Ludwig von Gerdtell’s lectures. At afternoon coffee and
other social occasions she had heard people openly discussing “whether
the atonement of Christ still has power and significance today.” The
whole city seemed to breathe a different spirit. “How I longed that I,
too, would be gripped by this spirit.”
After the evening at Frau Baehr’s, Emmy did not see Eberhard for a while.
He had gone to the Harz Mountains for a few days to become clear about
his own feelings toward this young woman and about God’s will concerning
her. Still deeply stirred by his talk, Emmy went several days later, on
March 15, to visit Frau Baehr and find out from her the way to “peace in
God and in Christ.” And she continued to attend the meetings.
On Wednesday evening Eberhard escorted Emmy to the meeting, where, to his
joy, she publicly declared that in the past few days she had decided for a
life with Jesus. On the way home he expressed his certainty that God had
led them together and told Emmy that he wanted to visit her parents on Good
Friday.
At that time the von Hollanders lived in a newly built town house, Dessauer
Strasse 8A, on the eastern edge of Halle, only a few steps away from the
water tower – an imposing structure even today. The family was not exactly
prosperous or, better said, they were no longer prosperous. Emmy’s father,
Johann Heinrich von Hollander, was the son of the last German Mayor of
Riga, a major city in northern East Prussia. Her mother, Monika, was the
daughter of Piers Otto, who had been pastor of the German Lutheran Church
of St. Gertrude’s in Riga. The von Hollander-Otto family tree had roots
extending all the way back into the 1700s and was replete with councilors,
patricians, and knights of the German Order. However, all this would only
have had significance until the first Russian Revolution, 1904–1905, at the
very latest.
Emmy’s father, a lawyer, had moved his family to Germany in 1890 to avoid
the russification policy of Tsar Alexander III and to provide a German
education for his children. Repeating his bar examinations had cost
Johann Heinrich von Hollander the greater part of the family’s resources.
He had hoped to qualify as a university lecturer in Jena but could not
make any headway in his profession there. A suitable opening did not
appear until 1896 at the university in Halle. The family’s first home in
Halle was in Giebichenstein; later, they moved to the suburb of
Ammendorf. When Eberhard met Emmy, the von Hollanders lived on Dessauer
Strasse. There were seven in the family; the two youngest of Emmy’s six
siblings had died early. Still living with their parents were her older
sister, Olga; Else, who was only eleven months younger than Emmy; her
brother, Heinrich (“Heinz”); and the youngest, Monika (“Mimi”).
From Eberhard to Emmy, July 20, 1908.
If ever two people were of one heart and one soul, they were Eberhard
Arnold and Emmy von Hollander: He writes poems to her, and pleads with her
to send him one of her blond curls. And requests photos, again and again.
He sends her books – parcels of them – by authors like Finney, Torrey,
Catherine Booth, Count Korff, and many others. Emmy wants to hear about his
work, the articles he’s writing – everything. He suggests they read books
from the Bible concurrently and tell each other everything that strikes
them. She is enthusiastic and picks Matthew’s Gospel as a starting point.
Within half a year they have worked through the New Testament. Eberhard
tells her she is beautiful, and that he is enchanted by her blue eyes. She
can hardly believe her happiness. He writes about his bike tours to the
Oder River, and about his course load at the university. She advises him
not to overdo it. He advises her to get more rest and sleep. She confesses
to him that she gossiped. After a few months he becomes aware, to his
horror, that two other girls had apparently pinned their hopes on him. Emmy
then begs him to avoid compromising situations, and to let others do
spiritual counseling with young girls. And the matter is closed. He
reflects on events from his earlier days, she relates incidents from hers.
He keeps her up to date with all that is happening in Breslau. She tells
him in great detail what is going on in the family, among people in the
Alte Promenade Fellowship, and in Christian circles in Halle. And there are
always many and often complex events to recount.
On the same day a letter from Emmy to him reports about the first baptism
service in the fellowship. Some of the candidates were "rather excited,"
she felt. "If one day we come to baptism, let’s ask especially for a holy
quietness, a holy peace beforehand."
Under all circumstances I shall do the clearly recognized will of God. I
shall do nothing except that of which I am convinced after examining it
from all sides.
I shall embark on nothing that I cannot clearly verify as biblical.
As far as my present experiences go, I will search through the New
Testament and history quite objectively in connection with the question of
baptism. If I find confirmation for my present impression that only
believer’s baptism is biblical, I will have myself baptized as soon as I
know for sure that it accords with the Bible and history...But as a
practical conclusion, I cannot be baptized yet without committing a sin.
In the same letter he worries over how his parents would view such a step.
How had he come to this recognition, and where would it lead? "Starting
with Galatians 3:26-27, thinking it over continually with Jesus, in simple,
sincere prayer," Eberhard explained, "I became clear that Scripture
recognizes only one baptism - the baptism of those who have become
believers...I therefore regard myself as unbaptized, and hereby declare war
on the existing church systems." He would, of course, wait for Emmy’s
decision on the subject and then tell both sets of parents. But he
indicated that he wanted to be baptized and to leave the state church as
soon as possible. He promised that before the winter term began he would
investigate whether he could still take his first exam in theology under
these circumstances. If not, he would immediately switch to a philosophy
major. With this, Eberhard had sketched out the events that were to follow.
He had no idea they would be drawn out over twelve tense months.