Monday, Oct. 22, 1934
Meisser v. Muller
There are only half as many Protestants as Catholics in Bavaria, but those there are as stubborn as Scots Calvinists. Of all the 28 onetime independent Lutheran state churches of Germany, only two up to last week still held out against the whip-snapping of Adolf Hitler's bullet-headed Realm Bishop Ludwig Mueller (TIME, Oct 1 et ante). This bold pair were the provincial churches of Bavaria and Wuerttemberg. Though 95% of Wuerttem-berg's clergy had voted to support their anti-Nazi Bishop Theophil Wurm, the Nazi whip cracked early last week and Bishop Wurm, suspended last month, was permanently removed from office, placed under arrest in his home. That left only Bavaria and its Bishop Hans Meisser outside the fold.
Loyally Bishop Meisser's flock stuck by him. Fortnight ago he went out to a mountain village to preach. Eight hundred hulking woodsmen filled the pockets of their leather breeches with stones and dared Nazi Storm Troopers to interfere. Then last week the whisper was passed about Munich: "Go to the Mattiaskirche on Thursday evening. Bishop Meisser will have something to say."
The whisper reached Nazi ears. Because this little rebellion of southern Protestantism against Nazi regimentation might be the germ to infect the whole body of the Third Reich, Realmleader Hitler himself went quietly to Munich to watch developments.
Noon of the day of the scheduled sermon secret police and blackcoated S. S. Troopers suddenly piled into the residence of Bishop Meisser. He was placed under arrest, forbidden to leave his house, told that he had been removed as head of his diocese. Remembering lessons learned in last June's "blood purge," the S. S. Troopers were careful to offer no threats to the Bishop's person, to give him complete liberty within the building. Bishop Hans Meisser puttered quietly up & downstairs all afternoon.
Evening came and the hour for the momentous sermon. Huge crowds jammed every seat in St. Matthew's Church and packed the streets outside. Suddenly guards discovered that the good Bishop was not in his study, nor in his bedroom, nor in his parlor, nor in his bathroom. In fact he was nowhere in his house. Slyly he had skipped through a back door and escaped the police cordon in a car bearing an Augsburg license plate. Squads of mounted police clattered up to St. Matthew's Church, but the Bishop was already inside and in his pulpit. Few paid attention to what he actually said. The purport of the sermon was clear enough, a protest against government interference in religion. One phrase stuck. "Our church has been violated!" cried Bishop Hans Meisser.
A wildly enthusiastic crowd hustled the brave Bishop into his automobile, swept the police and S. S. troops aside, trotted beside the car all the way to his house shouting "Heil Meisser! Pfui Mueller!" Another crowd stayed by the church, solemnly chanting Martin Luther's great "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott!"
From his secret headquarters in the centre of the city Adolf Hitler gave strict orders that nothing should be done that might cause violence. The hymn singing, however, got under the skin of the Bavarian police. With sabres swinging they charged. Pates were split.
As a city Munich is almost 90% Catholic. Spiritually as well as physically the green-topped towers of Cardinal Faulhaber's cathedral dwarf Bishop Meisser's St. Matthew's. But Catholics in Bavaria fear for their freedom of worship no less deeply than Protestants. Next day more "Protestants" than the oldest Muenchner could remember were on the streets.
From Berlin had come Dr. August Jaeger, Realm Bishop Miiller's legal adviser. With chin out, Dr. Jaeger, surrounded by four detectives and a squad of secret police, stomped into the Lutheran Synod Hall, demanded the keys of the safe and proceeded to lay down the law. One elderly pastor remained seated at the Nazis' entrance. "ON YOUR FEET!" bellowed Dr. August Jaeger.
Not only was Bishop Meisser deposed and placed under arrest, but a long list of other pastors was forbidden to preach. Henceforth Bishop Meisser's old diocese would be split in two and the Bishop's duties assigned to two Nazi-appointed commissioners.
Not until next day did Munich learn that Bishop Meisser had been deposed by force. That night crowds streamed to the Bishop's palace and broke through the gates. "Heil Meisser! Heil Meisser!" they roared. After an interval the Bishop appeared at an upper window. He had scarcely opened his mouth to speak before someone seized him by the coattails and yanked him back out of sight. A few minutes later his wife appeared in his place.
''Please go away," she begged, "for your Bishop's sake.''
Then followed an amazing scene. The angry crowd tramped off to assemble in front of Nazidom's holiest shrine, Adolf Hitler's original Brown House. While S. S. Troops stood undecidedly on guard, the Protestants spat at the bronze swastikas on either side of the door, yelled defiance at Bishop Mueller and Adolf Hitler himself.
Next day the Meisserites published a bitter manifesto:
''In a Church which calls itself a church of the gospel, the gospel is cast out and despotism and lying have gained control. . . . Realm Bishop Ludwig Mueller and August Jaeger are responsible for this ravagement. Satan does his work through them. Therefore we cry to God to make us free."
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