On 22 February 1943, a few days after the Stalingrad battle was ended,
Sophie and Hans Scholl, respectively 20 and 23 years old, were beheaded by nazi
executioners. Four days before, they were arrested while they threw pamphlets
of the underground group The White Rose in the yard of the Munich
university.
I am presently reading Lettres et carnets of Hans and Sophie
Scholl. Edited by Tallandier in 2008, the book exists now as Livre de Poche
(n° 31913), the edition to which I refer. [I don’t
possess an English edition of the book. The translation is mine, and probably
full of imperfections...]
The White Rose group was set up by a few students and intellectuals,
mostly catholics, in spring of 1942, a period that concerns me in a special
way: my birth, and, in Poland, the beginning of the annihilation of my father’s
family in the death camps. How not to be moved by this sentence of the second
pamphlet written by Hans Scholl and his friend Alexander Schmorell: “Since
the seizure of Poland, three hundred thousand Jews in this country were
slaughtered like animals. This is the most heinous crime committed against
human dignity, and no other in history can be compared with this”.
On reading the book, one is struck by the maturity and intelligence of
Hans and - perhaps even more - of Sophie, especially by the way their
correspondence and diaries reveal a deepening of their thinking and an
awakening of their conscience. Deeply moving too is the spiritual progress that
brother and sister perform in the space of a few months.
Many letters or pages of the diaries deserve a full quotation, but for
the time being, I will only quote a few short passages: I have just read about
half of the book. I shall probably return on it [I wrote
this article in September 2011].
First, a few lines on the political regime and the war:
“With that stubborn military barracks mindset everywhere, they soon
will remove any possibility of protecting the poor soul of their uniforms.
Really, what a time in the history of the German people! What do we find there
later apart from dates of battles and other things like that?” (Sophie, April
41).
“... that awful war, this Moloch which has crept from below in the
souls of all men trying to kill them...” (Hans, Décember 41).
“The mere sight of the rubble is thought-provoking, but amid the
crumbling walls, an American palace rises incongruously in the sky.
Half-starved children swarm in the streets, asking for bread with a whiny voice,
while from another place exciting jazz tunes are heard. And peasants kiss the
stone pavement of churches close to bars where people rejoice boundless with
stupid games. Twilight atmosphere everywhere.” (Hans, in bombed Warsaw, July
42).
“I still have several weeks of work at the factory. It is a soulless
and loveless occupation. The sight of all these people in front of all these
machines is sad; it looks like slaves, except that they themselves have crowned
their ruler” (Sophie, at compulsory work in a munitions factory, August
42).
And now, some quotes where the religious and spiritual journey of Sophie
and Hans comes to light.
“... a word or two on the mystery of poverty, which has occupied me
more than anything for a while, waiting for a solution until I came across
Bloy, through Dostoevsky. That poverty, leading to 'absolute' Christianity,
relies mainly on a spiritual basis and, only secondarily, material.” (Hans, October 41).
“The heart gets lost amid these small conveniences and forgets its
great road of return. Unprepared, busy with pointless and trivial trifles, it
may get caught off guard when the hour strikes, for having sacrificed the one
great joy to smaller ones (…) But if my heart can stubbornly cling to its
treasures, even if only by love of sweet life, tear me away against my will,
because I am too weak to do it alone...” (Sophie, autumn 41).
“Nevertheless, I continue to find life rich and good, but people do
not make a good use of it. It might do good to us to become truly poor, and so
doing, getting ready for less ephemeral wealth. Fortunately, there are people,
even in the army, who keep their internal independence, whatever the suffering,
because they are not dependent on things that others can rob them, and we are
privileged to count such people among our friends” (Sophie, December 41).
“I have heard and seen the Lord's name. It was at this time that I
met you. Then it became clearer day after day. As if scales fell from my eyes.
I pray. I feel on firmer ground and I see more clearly. This year, Christ is
born again in me” (Hans, to Karl Muth, December 41).
“When I look at people around me, including myself, they arouse fear
in me because God came down here because of them...” (Sophie, February 42).
Ultimately, the mystery of a goodness that nothing can destroy was
unveiled in the heart of these young people, when they faced the most horrible
of human experiences. We can perceive it in this beautiful passage of the Russian
diary written by Hans during the summer of 42, where some overtones bring
to mind the Prophets of Israël and the Psalms: “How beautiful are the
flowers, on the bank of the railroad! As if they had given themselves the word
so that no color misses, they bloom here with a gentle violence... everywhere:
next to ruined buildings, burned freight cars, devastated human faces. Flowers
grow and children play innocently in the middle of ruins. O loving God, help me
to overcome my doubts. Yes, I see the Creation, which is Your work, and that is
good. But I also see the work of men, our work, which is cruel, which we call
destruction and despair, and which always plagues the innocent. Have pity on
these children! How much longer must they suffer? Why is suffering so unjustly
imposed? When will the storm eventually take away all these godless, who soil
your image, who sacrifice the blood of countless innocents to a devil? The
whole world shines again, as far as the eye can see, after that rain...”
Fiodor
