There's a Little Bit of Nazi in Us All

What I learned during forty days with the German Christians of the Third Reich

I spent forty long days and nights with the German Christians of the Third Reich, and it was about as fun as it sounds.

As part of my Lenten practice this year I felt drawn to dive deeply into the writings of the Nazi Christians because I had a hunch their echoing voices offer us something here in the year 2025, as authoritarian threats grow globally. And my hunch was correct. I learned a lot reading their theological viewpoints and exploring their worldview from their own perspectives rather than having them interpreted for me by historians. What I didn’t expect was to be formed so deeply along the way, as I examined my own heart and disordered attachments. Indeed, I was writing about my discoveries daily for a while; but I had to stop about midway through Lent because of the inner wrestling that was happening as I began to see these characters of history as human beings.

God is fond of breaking down my biases through proximity.

I plan to share some of my biggest takeaways here at The Golden Thread, but I want to start with this important point:

It’s tempting to place Nazi Christians in the category of “Monsters” because doing so makes us feel safe and superior to the point that we delude ourselves into thinking we couldn’t be contaminated by whatever poison caused them to side with a political movement of sheer, unadulterated evil. Yet, they weren’t monsters. They were humans who loved their country, wanted to be free and prosperous, and professed hope and faith in the risen Christ. They wanted the same things we all want; but much like us, were grievously misguided in strategizing a way to realize their desires.

Their fear and anger triggered reactivity, and a savvy politician seized this reactivity to consolidate power. He said the things that soothed their nervous systems, restored their dignity, and offered them a way out of their condition. He promised a future in which they wouldn’t have to live with the consequences of their predecessors’ actions but would get a clean slate to chart a course toward building a country based on family values, moral absolutes, prosperous business, and a shared identity among their countryfolk.

Photo by Austrian National Library on Unsplash

They didn’t imagine a world of concentration camps, mass graves, and ovens that incinerated human beings. No, they imagined a kind world in which they were free of ties to global evil, in which their churches were unified and in service to their country, and in which there would be plenty of everything to meet all the needs of the “pure” Germans.

In fact, their collective hysteria prevented them from deeply questioning what would happen if other countries began refusing the deportations of the “impure” among them. They simply didn’t get that far in their collective thought experiment. Hitler and his social architects quickly understood where their purity narrative would naturally require them to move, but the German Christians were simply too wrapped up in the zeal of “restoring” Germany to a godly and glorious state (that never actually existed) to see where the road to purification would necessarily lead.

As I wrote about my findings and my own interpretations of the German Christian writings, I received pushback from both sides of the American political spectrum. No one likes to be compared to Nazis, yet both the right and the left level this accusation at one another. I quickly learned that I would be met with resistance and resentment at the insinuation that we all have the potential to become like the German Christians. Resistance or not, I have no choice but to boldly make this assertion because the evidence is clear.

What I’ve discovered during my Lenten journey is that both the extreme right and extreme left end up at the same inevitable place that the German Christians arrived and it’s not because they’re monsters but because they fall into several age-old traps.

They encounter people/ideas/situations/conditions that make them uncomfortable and fearful and so they:

· React instead of respond

· Isolate instead of collaborate

· Believe a simple lie rather than grapple with a complex truth

· Become defensive against people rather than offensive against a problem

· Ignore data that conflicts with their narrative

· Shut down/bully opposition instead of listening deeply for common ground

· Perpetuate fear and outrage to regain control

· Dehumanize others to make themselves comfortable

· Gravitate toward “strong men” rather than toward measured, thoughtful leadership

· Refuse to examine the second/third term consequences of their desired goals

· Shame and eradicate empathy for others

· Normalize lying and dishonest behavior in service to “the greater good”

How many of us have fallen into these traps ourselves? I know I’ve fallen into several and have been sorely tempted to fall into all of them at one point or another. And if you’re reading this and thinking that you’ve never succumbed to these temptations a time or two, then you are deluding yourself my friend. These are perfectly normal human tendencies, though that doesn’t make them any less dangerous to humanity.

What I’m saying is that we all have a little bit of Nazi potential in us and that’s why it’s imperative we study these traps, learn how to avoid them, and tell others to do the same. From an American Christian perspective, a thorough searching of our hearts is in order. Christian Nationalism is defined and upheld by all the above-mentioned traits. Project 2025 reads like a theological treatise directly out of the German Christian Handbook. There were times in my reading in which I felt like I could directly transpose the words on the page, written by proud Nazi Christians, onto some of the sermons, podcasts, and books that have been churned out of Evangelical America, and no one would have been any the wiser. In fact, many people would cheer.

I’ve been accused of picking on the American Church and inserting division where there should be unity. The truth is that I love the Church with my entire being. In my adult life, I’ve never been unattached to a local church even when I couldn’t find one in which I completely fit. It is because of my love for the Church that I spend so much time speaking and writing about the things that are hurting Her and preventing Her from living into Her purpose.

The disease must be diagnosed before it can be cured.

However, we should not experience unity with those who wish to oppress, cover up harm, harbor abusers, and wed the Church with the State. We can’t have unity with those who unapologetically and purposefully cause suffering for the poor, the needy, the vulnerable, and the weak. We must stand up for truth and contend for moral clarity. This isn’t a “woke” manifesto, this is simple Christianity 101.

The next few newsletters will focus on some of the traps I mentioned above, and I’ll provide some quotes and examples from the German Christians themselves. My prayer is that we can learn from these people by identifying where their good desires took a wrong turn and how to prevent ourselves from corrupting the Christian faith the way they did in their own day and time. As much as many of us wish we weren’t living in this moment in which we must face the consequences of our forebears’ decisions to wrongfully integrate Christian faith with political power, we are here, nonetheless. God has seen fit to call us into being for such a time as this. May we be wise and faithful stewards of our lives and of our shared faith.

“Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” – Archbishop Desmond Tutu