A few years ago I came across a half-remembered true story. It is the story of the white rose; a non-violent anti nazi resistance group made up of students from the University of Munich in Germany and their professor of philosophy. It is a story you may not have heard and is good to remember in this month of remembering.
Sophie and Hans Scholl, Saint Alexander Schmorel, Christoph Probst and others were armed with nothing more than a printing press and their bravery. Some of the men had already been on the frontline in Russia and had returned to Munich to study medicine. They had seen at first hand the atrocities committed by their own side, and, inspired by the Roman Catholic Bishop August Von Galen, who himself had preached many outspoken criticisms of the Nazi regime, decided to write and print leaflets telling their fellow countrymen and women what was going on. They also were trying to inspire others to resist the regime.
Just stop to think about that for a moment. They were living in a police state, which brooked no opposition, in a country which had hardly known democracy. They knew what the regime did to its opponents. They nevertheless chose to act.
The leaflets caused a great stir and the Gestapo began a rigorous search for the publishers. On 18th February 1943, whilst distributing the sixth leaflet, Sophie, Hans and Christoph were caught. They were interrogated and brought before a court on 22nd February. They were found guilty of treason, sentenced to death, and on the same day were executed by guillotine. The other members of the group, including Alexander Schmorel, who composed most of the leaflets, were later similarly tried and executed. Leaflet number six was smuggled out of Germany and later distributed over the country by the Royal Air Force.
It takes a particular kind of courage to oppose tyranny when all you have is yourself and your words. It is a kind of courage which needs to be remembered alongside all the other kinds of courage which we remember this month.
Remembrance can never fully be about the past. On the day before her execution, ‘Sophie dreamt that she was climbing a hill, carrying a child in baptism robes. Suddenly, and without warning, she found herself on the edge of a crevasse. She just had time to deposit the child on the far side, before herself plunging into the abyss below’*.
Many of us are that child, for whom a whole generation made sacrifices, often of their own lives. We have been spared the abyss they endured. They did what they thought was right, and often paid the ultimate price. We too are called to do what is right. I would argue that for us the consequences of doing what is right are less dangerous. Fear did not stay their hands, nor should it stay ours.
* Peter Selby on Bonhoeffer.
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