Good Fellows: Debt & Dishonor

5. Faith, Like Republics

Friday, January 27, 1933

Martin Edelmann drove his black Mercedes down the avenue and parked it in front of the old Schönfeld residence. Herr Schönefeld had died in recent years, and his wife had sold the long-time family home in favor of moving in with her daughter in Gutenberg. Much to the aged Frau Schönfeld's delight, the house had been purchased by a couple of children from the neighborhood who had grown and now had three small children of their own. The wife was the daughter of friends so dear to the Schönfelds that they might have been better viewed as relatives, and she had married a man who had discovered during his college years a happy knack for constitutional law and become an accomplished state attorney.

Martin exited the car and leaned on the door while staring up at the Schönfeld house. It was funny that they all still called it that, since the Schönfelds hadn't lived there in years and he and Ruth had, but a nostalgic smile crept across his lips as he thought of how the former occupants had attended their wedding ceremony. Now that was nearly a decade ago. Soon he and Ruth would be celebrating their eighth year of life together and entering bravely into the ninth. He closed the door of his car and crossed the street to the Kirchlichs' home, where they had been invited for one of the family's famous music nights.

When he arrived at the front door, Martin grabbed hold of the ring in the mouth of the bronze lion and knocked as he always did. Promptly, Francis opened the door for him, ushering him inside.

"Martin!" Francis grinned. "I'm glad you could come. I was just talking with Ruth, and she was assuring me that you would be along. I know that sometimes you lawyers keep long hours."

"As do you theologians," Martin retorted, tapping a finger against his brother-in-law's blue speckled tie before stepping past him into the entry hall. "I recall seeing the light on in your room last night at some ungodly hour."

"Guilty," Francis chuckled. "Better for a man of God to do his work at a godly hour than an ungodly one, I suppose, but I got caught up working on the radio address I'll be presenting Wednesday."

"Ah, yes. The... Younger Generation's Altered View of a Leader. That may be more topical than you'd like. Hausenfelder is set to announce his choice for Chancellor Monday, and there is talk that it may well be Freitag."

"How generous of him to change his 'unyielding no' after saying that he could not justify it before God, country, or conscience," Ruth quipped, entering in elegant stride from the direction of the kitchen. Her tongue was sharp, but her eyes smiled at her husband.

Martin's heart leapt with joy at the sight of her, and he couldn't help but smile. "Frau Edelmann." He bowed at the shoulders. "It is a pity that one's duty to God and to conscience could be so sharply discounted."

"Martin." Ruth kissed her husband's cheek before she tucked herself at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist like clockwork.

"Yes," Francis pondered. "It's all too common these days." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Perhaps if the church took its role a little more seriously, the people might follow."

"Not that old, saintly rubbish again!" Klaus came sauntering in from the living room with a short glass of schnaps in hand. "How many times do I have to tell you, Francis? The church is a worn out institution, and your God is a thing of the past. If He had any interest in us, He would've stopped that bloody war!"

Francis shook his head. "Klaus, I must have told you a thousand times: I will have my head cut off before I say that God does not exist, and if the church is broken, I will reform it!"

"Reform it to nothing!" Klaus sniggered. "The future isn't in faith, Francis. It's in ideas." He threw back his glass to take another gulp of his drink. "The churches will all be closed before long. Already, these great gothic cathedrals are little more than empty pews known only to church mice and the haunting echos of tradition. Shouldn't a god secure himself a bit more adulation than that?"