WHO AM I? (Wer bin ich?)
- Remembering Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I won’t usually include poems in this Blog, but today, as this month is the anniversary of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's birth, I make an exception. Rereading Bonhoeffer’s “Who Am I?” recently, I was reminded that it carries a message worth retelling. Bonhoeffer was a German theologian and pastor who was imprisoned and eventually executed in a Nazi concentration camp for his work in helping the Jews and conspiring against Hitler.
“Who Am I?” was written by Bonhoeffer while he was imprisoned and offers an open window into the mind and soul of someone naturally in anguish about his situation, yet equally calm in the face of probable death. Witnesses say that he was a great comfort to fellow prisoners and even to some of his guards. He also went to his execution with great faith, despite doubts such as we all have, and his poem “Wer bin ich?” indicates why. For those who have never read it, it is worth reading. For those who have read it, it is worth reading again.
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, you know, O God, I am yours!
- Remembering Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I won’t usually include poems in this Blog, but today, as this month is the anniversary of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's birth, I make an exception. Rereading Bonhoeffer’s “Who Am I?” recently, I was reminded that it carries a message worth retelling. Bonhoeffer was a German theologian and pastor who was imprisoned and eventually executed in a Nazi concentration camp for his work in helping the Jews and conspiring against Hitler.
“Who Am I?” was written by Bonhoeffer while he was imprisoned and offers an open window into the mind and soul of someone naturally in anguish about his situation, yet equally calm in the face of probable death. Witnesses say that he was a great comfort to fellow prisoners and even to some of his guards. He also went to his execution with great faith, despite doubts such as we all have, and his poem “Wer bin ich?” indicates why. For those who have never read it, it is worth reading. For those who have read it, it is worth reading again.
Who Am I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
Tossing in expectations of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, you know, O God, I am yours!
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