Haus No. 43 Marienburgerallee

(Written on a recent trip to Berlin, Germany)

November 3, 2012.  On the schedule today is a visit to the Dietrich Bonhoeffer Haus No. 43 on Marienburgerallee, Charlottenberg.  Don had called for a 9:00 am appointment the previous day.  I have just recently read Eric Metaxas’ biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer and was completely impressed by his commitment to his faith.

Took the 236 bus to the Spandau Banhof where we transferred to an S5 train.  It would be four stops to Herrstrasse station.  In a few minutes we were there and between Evelyn and Don, they figured out where we should go according to the map.  (I don’t get involved in such things as definitely when the good Lord passed out the smarts for map reading, I must have been absent!) 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer Haus

Soon we were on Marienburgerallee, a tree-lined street with the sidewalks filled with wet orange, yellow and brown leaves fallen from the trees.  We walked past house number 69, 68, 67 and on down to 43 and 42 which looked almost as if they were attached.  No. 43 had a little plaque at the gate, but on the wall next to the main door was a bigger sign that  said “Bonhoeffer Haus.”  We were fifteen minutes early.  Our appointment was at 9:00. It was only 8:45.  As we were waiting, pacing on the sidewalk and looking at the other houses on this Allee, a head popped up at the open window.  “You will have to give me a few minutes,” the man said to us in a slightly German accented English.  “That’s fine.  We know we are early,” Don answered back.

As we waited to be let in, I looked down the Allee and imagined those days in 1943 when the lives of those dwelling in this neat, unmistakeably affluent neighborhood were disrupted by visits from the Gestapo, arrests, interrogations and some by untimely deaths.  I wondered how I would have been if I were in their shoes living in those uncertain times.

Soon Kurt, our guide, appeared at the door. We started our tour in a big conference room where a long table that could probably sit 20 people was in the center of the bare wooden floors.  On the walls hung enlarged photos – collages of various stages in Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s life.  There were photos of him as a young child, of his parents and siblings.  Then there were photos of him as Associate Pastor in charge of young students being prepared for confirmation.  Kurt patiently explained to us the photos depicting significant events in the life of Bonhoeffer. 

Up we went on the spiral staircase to the attic.  Here was Dietrich’s study. The room looked quite austere to me. The bed was not the original one the room had but everything else was. There were shelves that lined two walls.  There was a harpsichord set against the wall next to the door. I walked over to the desk by the window. Kurt told us that was Dietrich’s desk and chair.  I couldn’t resist sitting on the chair and running my hand on the surface of the desk as if doing so would somehow connect me with its former owner.  It felt almost sacrilegious to sit on his chair and put my elbows on his desk.  This room felt like sacred ground. 

Soon we were back downstairs to the conference room.  We signed the guestbook, picked up some postcards and put in a donation into the “Spende”can.  In a few minutes, we were back on our way to the U-Banhof and home.  And I wonder, what if God requires of me what He required of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  Would I be as faithful?