German services and switched church records to English. In 1917 four Pasadena, Calif., churches had “German”


in their names. By the late 1920s, there were none. In Middletown, Conn., German Evangelical Lutheran


Church sandblasted its facade and renamed itself “St. Paul.” Even this action failed to protect Middletown deli- catessen owner Carl Teodore Herrman. Roused from slumber by a mob and accused of making pro-German remarks, he was made to kiss an American flag. While police arrived, many townspeople contributed donations toward the ringleaders’ fines. Perhaps the most surprised victims were Southern


Lutherans, many from long-established, even pre- Revolutionary, families. John Horine, editor of the Southern Lutheran Church


Visitor, wrote in 1916: “Te relationship of the Lutheran Church in America to the German nation and govern- ment, if it exists at all, must be very distant—a sort of second cousinship twice removed.” Lutheran Teological Southern Seminary completed


a magnificent granite building on the highest point in Columbia, S.C., in 1911. Initially this was a source of pride. Aſter 1914, however, “rumors began to fly that the ‘German Lutherans’ had built not a seminary, but a fortress on that elevation, so that they could rain cannon fire on the city from the cupola on top,” said seminary historian Susan McArver. While Columbians had experienced just that from


Union troops 50 years prior, Southern Lutherans were shocked to find themselves under such suspicion, McArver said. Many Americans applauded Wilson’s 1916 promise to


“keep us out of war.” Once U.S. troops entered the fight, however, Lutherans came under particular suspicion. McArver’s data notes that the Secret Service investigated Walton Greever, a Lutheran pastor and editor of Te American Lutheran Survey, for articles he had written urging non-entry in 1914 and 1915. But Lutherans throughout the country defended


themselves against allegations of disloyalty. Te South Carolina Synod passed a memorial in 1917 reaffirming its “loyal adherence … of patriotic devotion to the flag of the country [and] of respect for civil authority.” Te heav- ily German Lutheran Church–Missouri Synod passed a resolution in 1918 observing that more than 165,000 Lutheran men were fighting in the U.S. military and accu- sations of disloyalty were “either ignorance or malice,” noted the Waco (Texas) Morning News in 1918. Te war years stimulated movements already under- way to foster greater Lutheran unity. Tree Norwegian


Lutheran synods merged in 1917 to form the Norwegian Lutheran Church of America. Te predominantly eastern General Synod, General Council, and United Synod of the South forged the United Lutheran Church in America in November 1918. Te needs of Lutheran enlistees also spurred formation in 1917 of the National Lutheran Commission for Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Welfare, which matured into the cooperative National Lutheran Council. Lutherans, then, ended World War I a more united, but


less ethnic, church community. As historian Fred Meuser put it, these years “constitute one of the most significant watersheds in Lutheran history in America. Teologically there was little change, but the self-awareness and the spirit of the church has never been the same.” 


Dissent without disloyalty F


or Lutherans uncomfortable with war, 1917 and 1918 were fraught with difficult questions. In late 1914, Oliver D. Baltzly, pastor of Koun-


tze Memorial Lutheran Church in Omaha, Neb., gave thanks for President Woodrow Wilson’s day of prayer for peace. Baltzly mourned the lives lost to “commer- cial or territorial aggrandizement, a ruler’s whim or some equally unholy reason.” Aſter 1917, Baltzly labeled the conflict “Mr. Wilson’s


war” and criticized the president for failing to seek the people’s opinion before waging what was “not a righ- teous war” (Lutheranism in North America, 1914-1970 by E. Clifford Nelson; Augsburg, 1972). Baltzly’s comments unleashed a torrent of pub-


lic criticism. Fellow Lutheran pastor H.W. Saeger lamented the pastor’s words as “pour[ing] oil on already burning flames.” Ten five Kountze church council members resigned because the council tabled a resolution pledging unqualified support for the war. Baltzly took steps to emphasize his loyalty and


congregants’ patriotism. He donated a large U.S. flag to Kountze and endorsed creation of a service flag celebrating 120 members who fought. When Lutheran churches began a campaign to fund Army religious work in February 1918, Kountze contributed a remarkable $1,800 ($28,000 in today’s dollars).


Laura Gifford September 2014 35


Author bio: Gifford, a historian and writer, is a member of Joyful Servant Lutheran Church, Newberg, Ore.


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