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| seminary would allow these prisoners, whose liberation was not yet
in sight, to use their time wisely and to form new cadres for a revived
German church. A similar camp for Catholic theologians had been established
near Lille. Since Théo Preiss was in failing health, with
recurring tuberculosis, the task of establishing and maintaining the liaison
between the German and the French seminary became my responsibility.
As the Dean of the German seminary and his assistant had a permanent pass, they went freely between the two institutions. But their uniforms were a problem, for they did not want to wear them in town. I quickly procured some civilian clothing for them. We also had them frequently for dinner at my home, where my mother was keeping house for me. Dean Bietzer was a well-known church historian at the Bonn University, an early member of the Confessing Church and a friend of Karl Barth. His specialty was the 17th- and 18th-century Foederal theology, Bengel and Pietism. We spent hours discussing Spener, Francke, and the relationship between the music and the theological rigorism of the days of Johann Sebastian Bach. One evening Bietzer asked me what I wanted to do after my year as pastor in Montpellier. My immediate answer was that I would go to Basel and sit at the feet of my theological idol, Karl Barth. That idea brought an immediate response: Would I consider going to the United States for a year of study at Princeton? I could always go to Basel later; he felt that the United Stated had more to offer than a year with Barth, whose writings I already knew backwards and forwards. At first such a prospect did not seem too inviting. I had never heard of Princeton. A year at some obscure foreign university didn't sound very interesting to me. Bietzer laughed heartily. Princeton, he told me, was one of the best universities in the U.S. A fabulous place, he said. He had been teaching in Princeton in 1938, a whole year, before being recalled and mobilized in Germany, and he thought the place to be paradise on earth. The theological library all by itself was possibly the most complete in the world, and the teachers among the best. As I still did not respond with enthusiasm, he offered to write a letter to Princeton Seminary for me and see if there was a scholarship available. It would not cost me anything: He would even pay for the stamp. In two weeks a letter arrived from Princeton. Dean Roberts thanked Bietzer for his kindness in having brought this French student to his attention. He then asked me the earliest date on which I could come to Princeton. For travelling expenses there was a blank check in my name for up to $500 - a considerable sum in those days. I had been granted a scholarship for a Master's Degree, as well as the possibility to stay on for a Doctorate. I was floored. The recommendation of Bietzer, I thought, had to have been of the most eloquent kind. There was no way to refuse such a generous offer. I wrote that
I would come after September 1, which was the end of my Montpellier contract.
I thus set foot on American soil in 1947, and have lived here ever since,
first as a student at Princeton and, since 1949, as the pastor of the French
Church at St. John's, on Lafayette Square in Washington, where today, in
1989, I am celebrating my fortieth |
