Chapter of a Life Story
by Ethan Martin
Excerpted from the KIT August-September 1995 Newsletter, Vol. VII #8-9
Ethan Martin is not my real name, and I have changed
some other names, and clues to names. Those I want to
know, will know who I am. Almost a half a century ago,
when I was 20 years old, I embarked upon a strange
adventure. In the spring of 1948, along with two of my
fellow undergraduate students at Harvard University, I
dropped out of college at the end of my second year, to go
down to Paraguay, where we made a lifetime commitment
to the Bruderhof. As it turned out, that lifetime
commitment became just an eleven-year interlude in my
life, and a slightly longer one in theirs. I was the first
baptized American member, and the first baptized
American to leave.
I remember those eleven years as a time of
unparalleled emotional and spiritual intensity. I am still
evaluating that time as part of my whole life, and finding
new liberating insights. I'm glad I left when I did. And I
wouldn't have missed my Bruderhof years for anything.
At the end of my time there, I became a witness to, and a
minor player in a crisis that blew the community apart.
The parallels between the events of that historical crisis
and the struggle that had long been going on within my
body and soul are what I think make my story worth
l. HOW I BECAME A MEMBER OF THE BRUDERHOF
Why, as my mother put it, with angry and permanent
bitterness, did I "run off to the jungle" and join this "weird
outfit?" It started one day when I was in high school, with
the Atom Bomb on Hiroshima, August 6, 1945. I picked up
the paper from our country post office, and just stood
there on the gravel for a good hour reading the news of
that. Next, I found out all I could about it. I concluded at
once that everything had changed. There must never be a
war with atomic weapons. We needed a world federation
with teeth, with a monopoly of nuclear arms. We had
about ten years to make such a government, or World
War III would destroy civilization, cover Europe and
America with six inches of radioactive green glass. That
was the message I preached in debate contests, and in
competitive oratory matches, my senior year in high
During my two years at Harvard I learned from
courses and from sophisticated Manhattanite roommates
how provincial, Midwestern, middle-class, ignorant, and
plain dumb many of my accustomed views had been. I
learned how ethnocentric my whole life had been. I
learned to respect and long for the life of primitive
peoples, wrapped in the arms of myth, not in the chaos of
modern contradictions -- religious ethics vs. business
carnivority, Golden Rule vs. Me First, peace is wonderful
vs. when there is war, you go. Human brotherhood, but
not for the hunkies, the wops, the yids or the Negroes.
I learned from Professor (and prophet) Pitirim
Alexandrovich Sorokin, Sociology department chairman,
that Western Civilization's history was marked by the rise
and fall of two opposing cultural systems, the Ideational
(inward, religious) and the Sensate (this-worldly,
commercial, scientific, sensual). We were living out the
collapse of the second Sensate wave. Conflict would get
worse, and end in cataclysm. 'Brute force assisted by
fraud' would rule society. Out of the ashes, or green glass,
a new wave of the Ideational would, over centuries, arise.
Harvard didn't support me in my green glass visions
(my shrink thought I was projecting), but I went on
seeing the country and the world heedlessly drifting
toward universal atomic holocaust, as the Cold War set in,
while everybody, in the longed-for After the War time,
was happily and blindly making money, having kids,
planning careers as if nothing was going to happen to
Actually my vision was right, as we now find out. The
late General Curtis LeMay, boss of the Strategic Air
Command, and the other finger on the Button, did all he
could to start World War III (his term), and was furiously
disappointed when it didn't happen during the Cuban
missile crisis, since we had already missed some good
chances before that. "Doctor Strangelove" came very close
Academically I was doing very well indeed, getting 15
A's out of 17. That was before grade inflation. I was
learning marvelous new stuff -- Baudelaire, Abnormal
Psych, Kierkegaard, Auden, Patterns of Culture, Yeats,
Freud -- and inwardly I was at my wits' end about the
world's future and my own. I was coming apart.
That was my frame of mind when I set out in the
spring of 1948 to become a pacifist. No more patriotic
bamboozle gearing up for one more (the last?) War to End
War. On a Sunday afternoon at the local Quaker meeting
house, I committed myself, in a circle of newbies my age,
and of older veterans of the Conscientious Objector camps,
to refuse to register in the draft that was about to be
renewed, and consequently go to prison.
Moments later I made two new friends, Jack and Ron,
fellow Harvard students, who shared my fascination with
Sorokin's ideas, the nuclear future, and the coming
collapse of Western Civilization. They told me about a
settlement in Paraguay, where people from 16
nationalities -- mostly Germans and English! -- lived in
peace and harmony, shared all their property, made
decisions by unanimous consent, and believed that they
were the forerunners of the next civilization, the Kingdom
of God. They were absolute pacifists. They lived a simple
agricultural life. The seed of the new Ideational age? And
they were in Paraguay, where that seed, and with it, a
recognizably human culture, might hope to escape being
Within days we all made the decision to go. We
dropped out of school and went down to the Bruderhof in
Paraguay. We were delighted, overwhelmed. Jack and I
roomed together. We used to clown about looking under
the bed, to see if this was all just a wonderful illusion.
"This is the flowering of the German spirit," Jack
said, "not the Nazis." We used to talk that way.
Jack and I said we had the Deluxe Guestship. We got
invited to one family after another for afternoon tea-time,
and we were glad to see them and they were glad to see
us -- the Serious Guests who had come so far, and not as
tourists, but as Seekers! We worked in the garden, and
plied one brother after another with questions about what
they did about this and the other, and why, and about
We were delighted with their culture. They were not
the tightass black bumper Mennonite fundamentalist
peasants we had assumed they would be. Some were
peasants, but smart and witty ones. Most were middle
class in background. Many were educated and well read.
A few had advanced degrees. They were aware of politics
and history. They had a library of 25,000 books, to which
ours were added. They were absolute pacifists.
They had a large store of German and English folk
songs that everybody could sing. They would have
meetings where the people got together for some kind of
tedious manual work. For example, they would take the
seed pods out of a whole bunch of fruit bushes, rosella, so
as to make jam out of the blossoms. So all the people
would get together and cut off the pods and put the
blossoms in baskets, and sing folk songs. All evening!
Without looking at books or anything. Everybody knew
the songs by heart, in three or four part harmony.
And they all seemed so joyful. That awed and
mystified us, however much we tried to find cynical real
explanations, dirty secrets. And we worked hard at it. Jack
poked around in their archives, and I translated what he
found. We got found out, but they were quite good
humored about that, reckoned we were "Seeking Guests." I
can't imagine that kind of humor in the Bruderhof of
Part of the joy we felt came from a sense of the
worldwide, historic and even the cosmic importance of
this way of life, from its ideas and faith to the details of
daily work and play. One brother said to us as we worked
in the garden: "You can find people who are ready to die
for a cause. It's harder to find people who for a cause will
hoe the crops, for years, all day long in the sun." It was
work for the community, for the Cause, for the centuries-
long war of the underground Good against the organized
empire of Evil in its four aspects: Money (mammon) -- lies
-- murder (war, violence) -- and sexual impurity. It was
the sexual impurity part that brought the Struggle home
2. HOW I CAME CLOSER
The metaphor for our structure was concentric circles.
Outside, way outside, was Outside, or the World Outside,
as we called it Closer in were friends who in some way
shared our faith and practice -- Quakers, pacifists, secular
people concerned about The World Need (Weltnot,
suffering humanity). Then came guests -- from tourist
to Serious. A distinct step closer in was the Considering
Novice, who had decided to join -- but had more to
learn and change about faith and about one's own
fallibility. A Firm Novice had reached a more solid
decision and was seen to be more serious and devoted.
Then came baptism into the brotherhood. Closer to the
center were the Witness Brothers, who were elected for
their ability as wise counselors and deciders. Then the
Servants of the Word, or ministers. And at the very
center, God, Jesus, the holy Spirit.
In the center in another sense was the Gemeinde,
the Brotherhood with a capital 'B'. This was the
mystical body of all of us who were fully united with one
another in faith and action. You couldn't see it, touch it,
hear it. It wasn't us as people, and we didn't own it. The
Gemeinde came to us. We didn't own it, and we could
lose it, drive it away. But it came to us. And when it did, it
was more real for us and more significant to us by far
than what, in precommunity times, we would have called
our individual selves.
And of course, once in the center, you could go out.
Out of the prayer. Out of the meetings. Into the Small
Exclusion of limited formal talking with people. Into the
Great Exclusion, with the terrible words: "Because you
have despised God, you are given over for a time to the
power of the devil for the purging of your soul. Go out,
and bewail your misery to God." And still farther out,
those who broke their vows and left, the traitors, the Lost.
The damned, in fact, although we didn't use those words.
I spent almost a year as a Serious Guest, learning a
lot. But it was not until my first big crisis that I began to
"come closer" in a decisive way, and asked for the
As I became aware of their views about sex, I felt I
had to go make some confessions. I went to a gentle young
Servant of the Word, and told him about my sins. I had
copulated with my high school girl friend. Twenty times.
And once with another girl. And then further questions
about masturbation. Yes, I did. And I had some kinkier
things to admit to, which I'll spare you.
So I was instructed about purity. I was asked to stay
away from prayer for a while, until I had reached a
spiritual equilibrium. The brothers and sisters, who were
of course not told the details, only that I had confessed to
Impurity, were, it seemed to me, loving and even glad for
me. Why? Because I had been struck by the light of God
and the dirtiness of my self. I wrote a poem about it:
O Lord O love cast love's rebuke upon
The solemn insolence of our revolt,
And shed upon our endless goings on
Mercy descending like a thunderbolt.
Bring the cheap skeptic and the grand aspirer
To that great shattering clash with the I AM,
And lead the self-possessed and self-admirer
To weep beside the cradle of the Lamb.
They had all had some shattering clash. They were
glad I had found the gate. Soon after that I asked for the
novitiate, and was taken into it.
3. THE GIVING UP
The Bruderhof demanded absolute surrender of the
self. I could accept that -- as an idea -- with enthusiasm.
Liberal Western warring commercial dying technological
civilization was a terrible destructive failure. We needed a
life of unity and brotherhood. No, for me that idea of
giving up Western Sensate Freedom for Unity was not the
problem. Doing it was.
It was not only that every last bit of private property
had to be irrevocably signed over to the community so
that, even if you left, you could take nothing with you
except what the community chose to give you. That was
the easy part. Then came the hard part, giving up your
little willfulness, your precious old ideas. There was no
private space. Every last corner of the brain, the heart, the
soul were to belong to God and the Gemeinde, the
church-community as a spiritual presence, and as a total
earthly society. When the body or the mind rebelled, you
had to join in the Fight of Good against Evil. Our human
nature was weak and evil. You had to struggle against
your selfish self, asking for the help of God and
Gemeinde. What made me take the Firm Novice step
was an experience of the call for absolute surrender of
everything in me.
We were having a Pentecost night celebration and
there was a big bonfire. One of my close friends, a big
solid Swiss, stood straight and strong beside the flames.
He was standing there making, in a thunderous voice, his
Firm Novice declaration about all the things he was giving
up. And I looked at the roaring flames and I saw those
branches burning. I suddenly realized what they meant.
To get into this life, you had to be like one of those sticks
and you got burned, you got consumed, to make those
glorious rising flames, and it scared the hell out of me, it
What came over me when I saw the sticks being
burned was that sometimes it gets down to a very
subliminal level, where you can't say exactly what it is
you stand to be deprived of, but you know it's something
pretty vital. And at that point its like some hand just
grabs your heart. You know that it's too late to back out.
You're really scared. And there's something deep inside
you that you very badly don't want to let go of. That is the
Here is a poem, actually from later:
"Thy Kingdom come," I prayed, and there was
"In the still voice that rose to answer me:
""Oh it will come, and come quite suddenly.
"What would you do if it should come tomorrow?
""Thy Kingdom come --" "And when it comes, you
"The dozen other things you hope to get.
"Pray if you will, but never once forget
"That every time you pray, you have to choose.
""Thy Kingdom come --" "Yes. In the market place
"The people laugh and chatter as they pass
"A dying body hanging on a cross.
"Look up and see the face." It was my face.
4. THE CREED AS LIFE-TRUTH
As a firm novice on the way to baptism, I had not just
to accept, but to joyfully experience certain articles of
faith. In the baptismal ceremony at that time, we had to
stand up and declare our faith in each point of the Nicene
Creed. I took it very seriously and didn't want to say it
unless I could really find it in my heart to believe it. I
stretched myself on the rack a bit. Some people, I later
learned, did not operate with my assumptions about inner
passion for articles of faith. Some people could say to
themselves, well, this is a traditional Christian belief. I
accept Christianity in general. Therefore, I'll accept this.
Or, I want this Life, so I'll accept this creed.
My two biggest creedal problems were the Virgin
Birth and the Resurrection of the Flesh. I rebelled and
growled within myself. Yes, myth was the good
enveloping presence for human life. But it was myth,
not the truth of scientific anthropology.
Then I found a solution in Albert Schweitzer -- who
seemed to have had my creedal problem exactly. There
are two kinds of truth, he said: scientific truth -- and life-
truth. Scientific truth was what was established by
evidence and logic, the same for everybody. But life-
truths are those things that burn in our hearts with the
fire of the Living Word.
I said to myself, Well, boy, it's no accident if you're
having trouble with the Virgin Birth. Sex sinner that you
are. Once I had realized that my past sexual behavior and
my present inclinations were a pile of filth and I felt a
longing for purity, then it came upon me like a great
illumination and I realized that, if a new and true life
were to be given to the earth, it could only start not by
sex but by a direct word from God. I realized that there
was something contaminated about the sexual
relationship. Then I began to see what this meaning was,
this mythical truth. When a truth came alive to me, it
began to glow.
That's the way the 16th Century Anabaptists used to
talk about the Living Word. Go ahead and read the Bible,
that's OK. But unless a thing jumps out of the page at you,
comes alive, you don't really have The Word of God. The
key passage that I found for this interpretation was some
place in the Bible where Jesus says, "You don't believe me
but if you do what I say to do then you will believe." First
you leap, and only then do you land.
The Resurrection of the Flesh? The coming of the
Kingdom of God would mean, not that people would fly
about the ether as holy ghosts, but that the solid earth,
the trees and seas and bears and bees, and human life,
would be restored in their full Edenic material beauty. It
would be unjust if the Second Creation left that out.
"I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand
at the latter day, upon the earth. Though worms shall eat
this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." How
beautiful! Those lines from Job, and from "The Messiah."
At the Bruderhof, each of us had, sooner or later, to be
brought face to face with things in ourselves that were
repulsive to us. The purpose of this was to show us what
schnooks we really all were; to allow us to have no self-
respect whatsoever; make each of us a nothing. Because it
was only then that we were really ready to embrace the
new self, the values, the personality traits, that were
being offered to us. You had to become your own worst
enemy, your own most eloquent self-accuser. All, of
course, for the greater good of eventual spiritual rebirth.
The community could make life very miserable for you
unless you did: Isolation, standing up and confessing,
being grilled, having everybody against you.
Now, this is terrible to have to admit but, after I
became a Brother, I thought, here are some new novices
wanting to become members and, oh boy, they're going to
have to go through the creed grinder the same way I did.
But, by this time, the community was evolving in a more
liberal direction. The school girls started to wear slacks,
we got some record players, and listened to worldly
music, folk songs. In the church meetings, we adopted the
Quaker custom of people standing up and saying what was
I felt deflated when the newer novices didn't have to
go through everything I went through. No Nicene Creed.
They just stood up and told what was moving them. We
had given up some things that later people didn't have to
give up. I think that had something to do with the great
crisis in 1959. They used to say, there is a donkey that
brings you to This Life -- pacifism, Youth Movement,
Methodism, anarchism, socialism, humanism. And the
point is, when you arrive here, then get off the donkey.
We had got off the donkey into the Nicean Creed. I think
by 1959 some of us climbed back up and looked at the
world from donkeyback again. People now didn't have to
give up what we gave up. What else had we given up,
than we might now take back?
5. MY PERSONAL STRUGGLES
Personal. Sex, that is. I heard, on a rare tense
occasion or two, being officially informed in a meeting of
somebody else's sin, the words "fornication" and
"adultery." But I don't think I ever heard the word "sex."
It was always the "personal." I once asked if I could look
again into a psychology text I had brought to Primavera,
along with piles of other books. I was told, why No, there
were very personal things in those books. So they
were kept in a shelf accessible only to the doctors. I would
be allowed to read my book if I could produce a good and
sufficient reason. I passed.
Let's not be too gloomy about my life there. I had
some beautiful, peaceful, funny, energetic times, milking
cows, joining in celebrations, teaching school, driving the
steam engine, translating. But I never became a Bruderhof
member in totally good standing. I was repeatedly
plagued by my masturbation compulsion. It was a sign
that I had not let go and turned myself over to God and
the Gemeinde with all my heart. It was a sin, although not
The community was prudish about all sexual matters.
I never heard anybody ever say that somebody was
pregnant. Even though many women obviously were -- we
had high birth rates. I know that the laundry washed the
equivalent of menstrual pads. I lived near the laundry for
a time and I never saw these things drying. I don't know
where they dried them. I never knew how they were
Of course some people had more masturbation
problems than others. There were a couple of guys whose
lives were ruined by it. They became hangdog, burned-
out personalities from having to get up and confess so
many times. I particularly remember one of them, this
poor little bald-headed bookkeeper, who lived where I
lived. He had to get up and confess to it so many times
that he was numb about confessing. It was the numbness
that got him sent away to Asuncion. His confession lacked
It seemed to me, the older one got, the nastier this sin
seemed to the other Bruderhof members. We had a
paraplegic guest, an old guy who had been hit by a car in
Buenos Aires, and could barely shuffle around, an old
German. The only work he could do was peel the skin off
garlic, all alone. This was his daily work. I noticed that
some of the important people had a hostile attitude
toward him. I asked, "What's the matter? I know he isn't
very bright, and he doesn't seem to be all too with it as to
the requirements of faith."
"He's nasty. He's a dirty old man." So they apparently
knew that he was jacking off. Probably from his laundry.
And I think this is what tore it for him. After that he had
I was probably the only one who'd pass the time of
day with him. I lived in the same place with him. I was a
single brother and that's where they put him, being single,
too. We used to sit there and talk.
So, finally the leadership decided that he was not for
us, and they were going to ride him out. He insisted that I
be present at the meeting. Two older brothers were going
to tell him that he was kicked out. He was sitting there
looking at me, appealing to me with his eyes. When he
understood they were kicking him out, he wailed. "Can't
you let me stay here? Don't send me back into the
horrible city of Buenos Aires."
A person like that, had he been a loyal community
member, would have been a beloved figure. You'd have
such sympathy for him. If his foot ached you would go
there and sing songs outside his house to make him feel
good. You would bring him little presents. You would go
and visit him and listen to his pearls of wisdom. And here
we were sending this man back to the city to perish.
There was no overflow of emotion about that, not from me
and not from anybody. It just had to be done.
I refused to have doubts. I continued to think to
myself that I would never leave the Bruderhof no matter
what happened. While I was there I thought at least I'm
going to be loyal. My troubles were such that unless I told
about them, nobody would know. And so I often had
internal conflict. Maybe this wasn't really as serious as I
was making it. Perhaps this wasn't really a sin. Maybe I
shouldn't say anything. But I found out by practice that I
couldn't take it, not to tell. When you have something on
your conscience the world changes shape. I thought rather
than destroy the things I believed in, which would have
been the effect of not telling, I had to confess. It was
better for me to be punished and shamed, than to have
my inner life distorted.
This was a problem mainly for single men. For more
of them than I realized at the time, since I was not privy
to other guys' confessions to Servants, and missed
considerable time from meetings through being Out.
Occasionally, it might conceivably been a problem for a
married man, but I would never have heard, since such
things were discussed "in the circle of the married
members." Which is where sex was supposed to be,
I do remember an instance of a married woman who
got tied up in a knot over sexual fantasies. She was
women's work distributor at the time. And, very vocal,
very robust, a solid citizen. Of course I never heard the
details, but apparently she began to be obsessed with
sexy thoughts and she would accuse herself, and pray
about it and get over intense in the prayer and then be
guilty about praying so much, and be guilty about her
self-concern, guilty about her guilt until she finally got
herself tangled up in a first class depression. We looked
upon it as a disability more than a transgression. She had
to be relieved of her responsibility and given a different
job, a change of scene and it was hoped that she'd recover.
I think she was actually sent off to Asuncion for therapy.
Other people had more serious chronic sexual
problems. A teacher, and another guy with pederastic
inclinations, for example, would make improper physical
contacts with children. They'd been excluded for this
years before but then they would be reinstated and it
would happen again. We would conclude that something
wasn't cured back then when it should have been. The
community stood ready to give people another chance if
the repentance seemed sincere. Sins were supposed to be
repented of, forgiven and forgotten. I'm afraid the
forgetting was sometimes incomplete. Some dogs got a bad
name. In the end, so did I.
Because of this chronic disability that I had, I never
did fulfill the potentialities that I might have otherwise. A
leader told me in the beginning, "You're a very promising
young man. Why don't you get over this business so we
can use you." Years went by, and I was still diddling
around on the margin.
What made my sexual conflicts all the more sharp
was that, for the last seven of my eleven years of
struggling with this issue, I was fervently in love with
Adelina, a young woman born in the community. I was
reasonably sure she felt the same way about me, although
of course we could never speak of it. From my point of
view, this put a greater stake on whether I was going to
get through or not, cure myself of this infirmity, and
become really a legitimate Brotherhood member, firm and
solid. I would think, well now it can almost happen, and
then bang, down I'd go again. I would raise my hopes, and
then dash them with my own hand, figuratively and
You might think that marriage would be seen as a
solution to my problem. But there was a Catch-22. To be
married you first had to not have this sort of trouble. The
Servants used to say to me, "You know, the real solution to
this is marriage. The real problem is not this thing itself.
You could solve that if you only wouldn't get depressed
and bitter about it every time it happens. It's the
brooding that goes along with it that's really making your
trouble. You get critical, you get cynical, you get
depressed, you go off by yourself and wind up doing this
That was quite true. As I now see, I with my love for
the dramatic was fascinated by the Evil, the darkness, the
duel with the devil. I prayed hard and desperately to God
the distant Judge, My Will be Done. My will wasn't done. I
felt God was playing with me, as a cat plays with a mouse.
I got bitter against God, very bitter. If I could just have
relaxed and got bored with the game! A brother told me
he had had this problem, but "Now this has gone out of
But there was no way to reduce the salience of this
sin from my or their point of view. It was a sin. It had to
be confessed. It had to be punished in some way, by a
small exclusion. And then forgiven, and the sinner
embraced once more. And so the cycle went round and
round. Sin, horror, confession, shame, being taken care of,
forgiveness, harmony and bliss, resolutions, boredom,
temptation, resistance, struggle, fascination, crisis, SIN! I
always cooperated. I kept the wheels turning. In the past
few years I have come to know some "recovering
Catholics" who are familiar with such cycles. Much of the
hierarchic power of the Church is built on this game.
Let me explain what I mean when I say that I was
quasi-engaged to Adelina for seven years. This is hard to
explain to someone who hasn't been in the Bruderhof or a
community like it. The Bruderhof courtship custom was
that you are not allowed to have dates or anything like
that. Theoretically you're not supposed to let your beloved
know at all that you're interested. She should be the last
One time, a friend of mine was wildly in love with a
young woman for about two years. And he had already
asked the Servants if they could get married. And they
said, "Well, wait a little bit, she's only eighteen, she's so
They went on a Youth trip together, along with the
whole Youth group, down to the river. And he went so far
as to take her for a little boat ride about a hundred yards
down and back. Just her and him in a boat. Of course the
other Youths were all around, all over the place. But he
was very worried about this. He thought, Woe, have I
gone too far? They didn't say anything to each other. They
didn't hold hands. God forbid they should hold hands. But
just being alone with her, maybe he'd gone too far. I don't
think she even knew he was interested in her before that.
But he figured that after that she must have twigged it.
And he was worried. The Youth would sing together, folk
dance together, but no pairing off or anything like that.
The farthest they would go would maybe make a few
cow-eyes in a very stealthy sort of way.
Now, this was the theory. In fact it was prescribed in
the old Hutterian rules. If a brother becomes interested in
a sister, he should not go to counsel with flesh and blood.
This means he shouldn't ask himself, do I have sexual
feelings toward her? He shouldn't court her in any way.
He should ask, is this girl an outstanding member of the
church, and if so then he should go and talk with a
responsible brother. And they would take counsel
together and decide whether this would be a good thing or
not. And that's the way it was done. The Bruderhof yenta
system. I would say that in about half the cases the
couples were aware of their mutual interest in each other.
Especially if they were part of the born-in-the-Bruderhof
Youth group. There were ways, you know, like glances and
so forth. That's the way it was with me, eye-messages. I
was pretty sure she knew. But I could never be absolutely
sure, since we couldn't talk about it. Here is how I wrote
about it in 1955:
If I could speak, I might well tell you this:
That I have kept hope small, and tried to soften
Looming impossibilities, and often
I have been thinking of you -- not to kiss.
Whenever we talked, we talked about some book
Or teaching methods -- some safe thing like that.
At mealtimes I have known just where you sat,
And not allowed myself a single look.
But still I keep on longing, willy-nilly,
And I imagine what we'd say together
If we but had the chance, and wonder whether
I'm not too old for being quite so silly.
I've tried to keep on doing what I ought
And make no motions, since for all I knew
Somebody else might have pet names for you,
And rights to say them to you, that I've not.
If I pretend that this is next December,
Since, after all, by then I ought to know,
And be consoled by knowing, yes or no --
Even this will be pleasant to remember.
Until 1957. I went through another short
exclusion period in 1957. They had a big three-continent
conference there in Primavera, and they were shifting
people around and she was to be sent off to England for
medical treatment. One of the Servants of the Word came
up to me down by the horse stable and said, "Before
Adelina left she said she wants to marry you." I jumped
up in the air. He went on: "We would like to see you two
get married. I've had my doubts up to now, but if you
could just straighten out and behave like a solid brother
for a while then it will be possible."
That was so much encouragement to me that I came
right out of my gloom like a Polaris out from under water.
I was flying. They sent me down to an outpost hof in
Uruguay for a "new start." I wrote this shortly after I
arrived there. I knew, without quite admitting it, that I
wasn't sure who this wind was, the Spirit, or my love for
Over my heart's sprawling city,
shaking the rooftrees, the cowering walls,
you, wind, sweep battering.
I start awake in the vibrating darkness
at the surf-surge of your voice.
You, bitter flood assaulting my body,
iron in my mouth, of joy, of fear, of future, dim
dark angel over the doorpost,
far trumpet resounding.
You are thunder astray on the peaks, shouting,
on the remote red mountains.
You, uncanny burst of rain
shocking the listless meadows.
There is haste in my heart, is running, fluttering
slamming of doors, a crying, a song,
secret plunging of delight:
Come wind, come flood, come storm:
Come Lover, Stranger, Fate and Friend.
I tried hard, too hard, to be an outstanding
brotherhood member. I caught myself trying to sound
like a certain Servant of the Word, using his vocabulary.
While I was down there I was writing to her in England
and we were all but engaged. She was in the hospital over
there and I was writing love letters to her. We wouldn't
talk about marriage in so many words, of course. But we
would write the word "love" to each other. We even kept
that under control, but it was obvious that we were
having an intimate correspondence. And then, bang, I
bombed out once again.
That was the low point of my entire Bruderhof career.
I was never more bitter and despairing. Especially
because I wasn't even fully aware of how it happened. I
had got talking with an Argentinean guest that we had
there named Felipe. We felt drawn to each other because
we had common interests in intellectual subjects that you
couldn't talk about with most people, particularly
psychology. We'd have long marvelous conversations. He
used to get up early in the morning to start the bakery
going. And he came in one time to where I slept to wake
me up, about four o'clock one morning, and there I was
apparently jacking off. I was told about this. I had no
awareness of it whatsoever. I just did not know. I must
have been sound asleep and doing it.
They weren't quite so sure I was asleep. But to me,
here I was right at the pinnacle of my hopes. I'm a kind of
a guy that elaborates fantasies, thinking about marrying
this woman for seven years. I'd been writing in my
journal about it, stacks of tablets, writing poems about
her. I'd been imagining what it would be like, imagining
how it would be if it didn't happen, how it would be if it
did. What if she marries some one else, what if, what if. I
was finally right in sight of my goal and smash. "We're
going to send you back to Primavera," they eventually
told me. "It's too much of a burden to have you excluded
here in this place with only 80 people." I was profoundly
ashamed and despairing.
Over in England they told her what I had done, told
her I was no good, made her burn my letters, told her to
So I got back to Primavera, into another official Small
Exclusion, and some ghastly despairing times. In the early
weeks I had a companion, a rat who nibbled the soap at
night, and would run over me in the dark from head to
foot. I finally caught him in a box and held him under
water in the rain barrel. After all, a rat! We looked each
other in the eye until he let out his last bubble. Afterward
I was sorry. And lonely. I missed him.
Time went on, I worked in construction. Eventually
Adelina came back from England. We would catch sight of
each other every once in a while. She was in another hof
so I didn't have much daily experience of her. But once
she shook my hand and gave it an extra hard squeeze at
the end. That was a big thing to dare to do that much. I
took it as a gesture of love and also rejoicing that I was
getting back onto the way. I began to have hope.
6. MY ROLE IN THE GREAT CRISIS
Two years after I arrived back in Primavera came the
Great Crisis of 1959. My view is that it sprang out of a
"bitter root" that had been growing in the dark inside
Heini and possibly a few others for two decades, maybe
even much longer. Let me first describe what occurred
and then go into more detail about my particular role in it
This is what I have understood. The founder of the
community, Eberhard Arnold, died in 1935. It was a big
shock to everyone and many people predicted that since
the whole place had been so dominated by Papa Eberhard,
when he died the community would expire. But they
endured, through expulsion by the Nazis, the Blitz in
England, emigration to Paraguay, and pioneering in the
Eberhard left behind three sons, Hardy, Heini, and
Hans Hermann, but they were still too young at the time
of his death to hold positions of top responsibility. He also
left behind two daughters who had married somewhat
older spiritually gifted husbands. One of these sons-in-
law, Hans Zumpe, assumed a first-among-equals
leadership role. Eberhard left him a letter with
instructions bestowing the mantle upon him. And advising
him to keep Heini in the agriculture, and out of a
responsible post. When they went to Paraguay, the two
sons-in-law were high in the leadership, but the sons had
respectable positions, too.
Possibly Hardy, the oldest, was the foremost of the
three sons at first. But he and his brothers got knocked
down. There may have been resentment against this royal
family clan feeling. You know, we are the bigshot sons of
Eberhard Arnold. In 1941 Heini Arnold went religious-
nuts for a while, spent months on his deathbed
prophesying, said he felt an Evil Spirit in the community,
and it had to be rooted out. They all got hysterically
spooked for a time. It was chiefly (but not only) Hans
Zumpe, the brother-in-law, who shooed the spooks. Heini
got sent to Asuncion for psychiatric treatment. Then in
1944 the Arnold boys and a supporter or two planned a
coup, but that was unveiled and put down. So these guys
were in the dog house, excluded and sent away.
Eventually they regained leadership positions but, until
1959, none of them were able to dominate. Hans Zumpe
got to be more First, and less Equal. A new member from
Germany said to me, before he quit and left: "Hans Zumpe
comes on like a little tin God." He had a point. They were
talking about making Hans Bishop, an office we never had.
Heini bided his time and waited, probably not all that
consciously, for an opportunity for revenge and
retribution. This finally came in early 1959.
By 1959, Heini's new Woodcrest Bruderhof in the
United States was the scene of great enthusiasm, as new
Americans came to join. It was prospering economically, a
novelty in Bruderhof history, having taken over a school-
toy business from a community all but one of whose
members joined them. The "mother" communities in
Paraguay were struggling along as usual. Heini had
recruited a bunch of very competent high energy young
American lieutenants who thought the world of him, owed
their positions to him, and would follow him anywhere.
His and their view came to be that Heini and Woodcrest
had the True Spirit, while Hans Zumpe and Primavera had
extinguished their torches. This is their official view now:
that Hans was a devil, Heini was a saint, and the torches
were extinguished from Eberhard's death on, until Heini
relit them in Woodcrest. My view is that Heini was a
gifted paranoid. Such people can be loving and inspiring,
and then crazy cruel. They can have tremendous
charismatic power. And be spectacularly destructive: see
David Koresh, Jim Jones, Jim Bakker, Oral Roberts, Jimmy
Swaggert, Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Mao Zedong, Sri
Ragwan Bazhneesh, and other assorted Elmer Gantrys.
We in Paraguay had come up with a plan to grow and
sell rice. We were going to plant about 400 acres of rice in
the swamp land. We had already cleared the land, dug the
canals, bought a big diesel pump, and constructed a long
nine foot diameter wooden pipe to pump water from the
river. We had put a lot of sweat into this project.
Suddenly Woodcrest started sending letters criticizing
our plan. We should manufacture things instead -- like
them with their toy business. We were puzzled. Quite a
few members had been sent up there by us. Didn't they
know the transport and market conditions in Paraguay?
Then the people at Woodcrest began to notice some
disturbing things, they wrote, in letters they'd received
from Primavera. Nothing to do with agriculture, but, for
example, someone writing to a friend at Woodcrest and
saying, in effect, one of the things that bolsters our
resolve here and gives us the strength to go on under
these adverse conditions is our awareness that we are an
outpost of the Kingdom of God.
Under ordinary circumstances nobody would have
noticed anything about such a statement, but in this
context, they began to ask if Primavera had somehow
gotten too smug. Heini and the Woodcrest leaders asked,
Are you so sure you are an outpost of the Kingdom of
God? Don't you know that we will only know at the Last
Judgment if we are God's representatives or not? You
seem to think there's nothing that can possibly be wrong
with you. And look to it brother. You better examine
yourselves. We took this to heart and we began to
examine ourselves. We examined ourselves to pieces
through the first three months of the year 1959. We made
ourselves into spiritual and emotional basket cases. And
that was not the end.
By mid 1960, people from Woodcrest decided that
they had to come down to Paraguay and set the house in
order. That's when the real purge began, in July of 1960
or so. By this time, I was gone. Apparently, it was an
agonizing mess. They were in and out. They were a
Brotherhood, they were not a Brotherhood, they had
never been a Brotherhood. It got really chaotic. Heini
came down from Woodcrest with a hit list, and a Goon
Squad of young Americans. Get rid of these people fast.
Hundreds of them. Including my fellow Americans from
1948, Jack and Ron and their families. Some of of the
expelled were old people with no money and nowhere to
go. They weren't even asked to make a statement or to
repent, just out the door and good riddance. Some of you
never should have been here in the first place. Those who
are meant to be with us will, with the help of God,
eventually find your way back. Subsequently Heini and
the American Goon Squad cut a swath through all the
other communities as well, descending like Avenging
Angels, expelling and excluding.
I left in September of 1959. I saw the beginning of
the crisis but not the end. But I took a very active part in
the beginning. I'd been in Small Exclusion for two years,
from 1957 to 1959. I was attending church meetings, but
not the prayer. But then, as the crisis began, the
leadership felt I should take part in the discussions.
Everybody should. "We're all on the same bench,"
Servants and simple members side by side.
This was a novel situation for me. Here I was a semi-
excludee, and what right did I have to talk? Yet I was
encouraged to feel like an equal in this crisis, all on the
same bench. So, to my own astonishment, I had a go at it.
It became the general view that if the whole community
was in such a mess, something must be wrong with every
one of us. No matter how innocuous we had appeared
before this. So, all I had to do was listen and look for it
and I would find it. Some guy would get up and make a
statement that I thought was blah and I would sit there
busting inside, and come storming out with "What is going
on? Don't we realize how serious this is? We're standing
here making blabbing statements like this and we don't
realize the depth of our guilt, the depth of the things from
which we have to repent." And everybody nodded. I
picked out things that ordinarily you would admonish
people for in private and I brought them out right there
in front of everybody. I quoted Hebrews: "For our God is a
consuming fire!" I said I had felt all the time I'd been
here, something was not quite right. Now, at last we were
going to be absolutely, totally devoted to the Kingdom of
I was excited, constantly praying, grateful that at last
my calling had come. I started discovering powers I didn't
know I had. I would sit listening with the Third Ear of
symbolic awareness. There was an old harmless guy, who
had taught me chess in my abundant spare time as a
Small Excludee. He was single, a short guy, a funny guy
with a little white beard. He was making a short
confession. It was obvious that he just didn't get the point.
He wasn't quite with it. I sat there and started feeling,
when is it that I don't comprehend things? It's when I've
got something on my conscience. So I got him off in a
corner. I said, "Look, I can't tell you how I think I know
this, but I think you should ask yourself if there's a sin
that you have on your mind that you haven't confessed.
And don't tell me, go and talk to a Servant."
And bang. He had done something fifteen years
before and then sure enough it had been on his mind
during that meeting, hovering around. So that came out. It
had survived fifteen solid years of annual Lord's Suppers
when everything was supposed to be cleared up. Fifteen
years of solid challenges of people getting excluded for
I had noticed over the years how another older
brother, a former parson, often spoke of God as punishing,
told children not to run and squeal when a storm was
coming up, but rather to fear the majesty of the Creator. I
took him aside and put it to him: "Willi, have you ever
forgiven your father?" Bullseye! I was startled to see him
crumble into tears right in front of me, and he told me a
I said during one meeting that what I'd heard so far
that evening gave me the impression that people didn't
mind confessing their sins so long as they didn't loose
their dignity. I reserved my particular wrath for those
who never seemed to have anything very serious to
confess. I made a specialty of working over these silent
types to see what I could find. I seized on the idea that
besides the sinful sins of people like me, there was such a
thing as the sins of the Pharisees. The sins of the good, law
abiding people who never got into trouble, but were
lukewarm. As Jesus said in a parable, the one who will
love the master most is the one to whom much was
forgiven. Like me. And you can quote usefully from the
book of Revelations that those who are lukewarm I will
spew out of my mouth and I would you were hot or cold,
but not just halfway between. If you had something
flamingly wrong and confessed about it, you got out better
at purge time than if you sat there and finally made some
pious statement. Oh I was a real terror there for a while.
Even if incidentally I made a real fool of myself on several
occasions in public. What I now see is that I was acting
out the fanatical terror tactics that later became standard
practice under Saint Heini. And that was my worst time,
not my best.
After this had gone on for a while at the three
villages, we had a communal meeting. We all got together
in the huge dining room in Isla and we asked ourselves,
"Can we get some sort of sense of the meeting about this."
And here I noticed something really terrifying. Where
was the Brotherhood? That was the question. And the
Brotherhood had always been there, somehow. The
Servant might be exposed as a charlatan and get put into
exclusion, but the brotherhood was still there. Such and
such a respected person might fall but the Brotherhood
was still there. We all of us might be a little confused for a
while, but the Brotherhood was still there working on it
and we knew we'd come through. Now I suddenly had a
feeling of a great emptiness. It was an existential shock.
Something you've always been able to rely on is not there.
As if a kid had had his parents killed out from over him.
The final blow for me came when the Brotherhood
was reconstituted. I was not made a Witness Brother, as I
had imagined in the intoxification of my Prosecuting
Attorney dramas. I was taken back into the Brotherhood.
But into the Non-Decision Making Brotherhood.
These were people who were asked to leave a meeting
if anything serious came up. These were the guys who
would never get married, ever, and were looked on as
weird at best, and at worst, Unclean. That was the end of
any hopes of my marrying Adelina. Inside me, something
I fell into a pattern of masturbation again. I went to
my trusted Witness Brother friend and said, "I've tried
everything. I tried praying and not praying; I tried
reading and not reading; I tried being sociable I've tried
being solitary; I've tried fasting. There isn't anything on
God's green earth I haven't tried. And I don't want to start
all through it again because it seems to me futile. I don't
know how to cure myself of this vice. I can't go on. I just
don't know what to do." Under the newly sterner
standards I had helped set up, I could not just drift on
any more, didn't want to.
And he said, "Maybe you'd better go back home to the
States." Break my vows? I was thunderstruck. I said, "I
think I'd better." So that's how I left. Not with a bang,
with a whimper.
I have told people that I was in a critical frame of
mind and eventually began to see all of the contradictions.
That is true enough. I read Schweitzer's The Quest for
the Historical Jesus and from then on, in the back of
my mind, remained alienated from all forms of
Churchianity, including ours. I was disgusted when the
community refused to take in a severely malnourished
Paraguayan child, because, they said, yes the Good
Samaritan Parable, but Social Work was not our task,
being an outpost of the Kingdom of God was. But actually
it was my own inner contradictions that made me leave
because when you come right down to it, it broke my
heart to keep on trying to do something impossible.
Technically speaking, they didn't kick me out. In my
last brotherhood meeting, the decision was made by the
brotherhood that I should leave. I made a statement and
then the Servant of the Word said a few things. I thought
he was slightly bitter. He said, in so many words, "We
haven't been able to do anything with you so now you go
out and we'll see you again if you find a way yourself."
They even said in my last Brotherhood meeting that it
was odd but they felt a kind of unity with me in spite of
the fact that we both could see that I had to go away, and
they hoped very much they'd see me again, eventually,
and hear that I had gotten back into the Brotherhood. I
had been a sinner, a failure, but somehow a loyal one.
When I was leaving a Servant said to me: "Well, what
are you going to do now? Are you going to go back to
Harvard and become a professor?" And I said, "Ach!
Nonsense!" One of the Youth, a person of no particular
distinction, gave me an admonitory lecture, which I think
lifted his self-esteem. I was going up a walk by the
hospital, and Adelina, who had been coming my direction,
saw me, flinched, turned away and went somewhere else.
7. BACK INTO THE WORLD
When I came home I had to tell my parents what had
happened and why I left. My father said, "Oh, but that's
natural. That's a human thing."
I said, "No. You don't understand: from their point of
view, it's wrong. They were right to send me away. I
failed. They were right." I didn't want to lose the feeling
that what I believed in was right even if meant that I was
I forget whose idea it was -- I drove down to a
roadhouse near the Pennsylvania bruderhof, Farmington.
Art Wiser and another brother met me and talked over
my situation. His suggestion: I should get a job in
Pittsburgh, live by myself in Great Exclusion, and try to
get back in. His parting words were: "I'm sorry for you."
In a day or two I had decided I wasn't going to go back
and go through that again.
I lay about for two months and watched television, a
new experience for me, a dozen hours a day, so as not to
think, not to feel. Then I went and got a job collecting
weekly insurance payments from a poor and almost
entirely black set of customers. I needed new clothes. I
bought a black suit, a black hat, black shoes, and a black
overcoat. A customer once asked me, "Hey shoonse man,
you a preacher?" I guess I acted like one. I bought a
record of The Messiah. I lived with my parents, had no
friends. The future did not exist. Sometimes I'd see from a
distance and from behind, a woman who looked slightly
like Adelina, and my heart would give a smashing thud.
After a few months of this, I got a letter from Kay, a
young woman who had visited Primavera for a workcamp
there. She had talked with me briefly. We corresponded
for a while, and got together at the college where she had
graduated the year before. We quickly decided to get
married, and did. I went back to college, and eventually
got a Ph.D. and became a college professor after all.
There's more to tell. Much more. I'm just getting
started. But there's space only for a satellite overpass.
I see my personal troubles in Primavera from
the perspective of my experience, these past four years, in
a 12-step program, Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous. The
Bruderhof didn't make me into what I was there. I had,
and potentially still have, an addictive personality.
Adelina and I quit smoking cold turkey the 18th of
August, 1973. And then my drinking took off. I stopped
drinking in 1983, and my sex and romance-intrigue
addiction took off. I got into recovery from that in 1992.
Right now I have to work the program against the
Internet, the World Wide Web, Computerholism. Peeling
the onion, we call it. You keep going deeper, and shed
I have been married four times to three women. After
11 years of marriage, and a new born baby girl, I was
divorced from Kay, my first wife -- because against all my
expectations, Adelina left the Bruderhof, finished college,
and got in touch with me. We found each other after all
that time. The past was not forgotten, it wasn't even past,
as Faulkner said. What a story! The Golden Legend. People
loved to hear us tell it. It ran in a local paper. The trouble
with the Golden Legend was that it left out Kay, my first
wife, and Susan, our daughter. Susan read the story in the
paper, and it hurt. Not only did she have no daddy, she
didn't even exist in the story of his life.
Adelina and I were married, had a wonderful life
together, our own baby daughter, Renata -- and then came
my crazy time. Sneaking off to porn movies. Hiding
collections of porn magazines. Several one-night stands.
Acting out with a mistress for four years, all the while
picturing myself as a devoted husband and father. Until
finally I left Adelina and Renata for Caroline, a sexy
woman who'd been married six times before, was married
to her for six years, was slowly destroying myself and her,
until finally, as we say in the Program, I Hit Bottom, saw
my life disappearing, left, was divorced again.
And now Adelina and I are married again, together
again but anew in a life of joyful discovery. I have had a
thorough reconciling talk with my first wife Kay. I have
made amends with my daughters, cried with them, and
kept more and more in touch. I have changed. I am a
person in recovery. I have come to understand my
wounds, and the way they go back through the
generations on both sides of my parents' families. And
how the Bruderhof was a setup for my acting-out dramas
in one form. Later I found other forms.
I know now how we addicts, how I, have used
addictive behavior to drug away the inner pain of self-
contempt. I have got in touch with my Shadow, who
appeared once in therapy as a black monkey, a demon,
and at the same time as a lost and lonely part of my Child
self who needed to be taken in out of the cold and the
darkness, and who knew how to work destruction on me
and those I loved, until I finally paid him the attention
and love he had always wanted. Now a little black cloth
monkey sits on my night table, wearing a T-shirt that
says: Get Well Soon. We could think of him as the mascot
of Adelina's and my increasing delight and healing as we
work our way through Margo Anand's The Art of Sexual
Ecstacy, a Western-hospitable Tantric way of action,
uniting body, soul, and spirit. We delight in learning and
using new ways of sensual massage.
I can see now how my Bruderhof situation set me up
to Fight the Devil, and always lose. The Devil was really
my own Shadow, my lonely little black monkey part. The
day came when I realized my God was not the one who
had nailed me to the cross. I had been addicted to sex, but
really to the forgiveness moment -- no, actually to the
shame, because at bottom I felt that was my own
fundamental Ground Zero identity. Whereas God had
always loved me, just as I was, and waited for me to reach
out. His Will Be Done was no longer a frightening threat,
since he knew what I needed far better than I did. And if
I asked for bread, he would not give me a stone.
Therapy and healing imagination and working my
program have made my life a peaceful adventure, full of
discoveries, bringing together more and more of my
history into a Story with a happy ending. I have come to
experience increasingly the Promises of Alchoholics
Anonymous and its cousin recovery programs, especially
We shall know peace.
We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door
No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we
will see how our experience can benefit others.
We will suddenly notice that God is doing for us what
we could not do for ourselves.
We will lose interest in selfish things, and gain
interest in our fellows.
Stopping the addictive destructive behaviors has
been only the start. The continuation is the rebuilding of
our lives with the help of God as a loving partner, not a
punishing judge. Along with my new life with Adelina, my
greatest joy is the sense of the gentle, humorous presence
of God, with all these Good Surprises, time and again. I
remember reading, as I ran the Loma steam engine, a
little book by Brother Lawrence, called The Practice of
the Presence of God. I had a glimpse of that presence
then. And now constantly. My God, my Higher Power, is
always right there, and I turn to him often, leave things
up to him, or (just as much) her. My sense of this presence
is of the Loving Father Jesus spoke of, but also the Mother
Goddess of the East and the Mideast. The inner god of
Thou Art That. Even fortune cookies give me messages:
Trust your intution. The Universe is guiding your life.
You have some new ideas, do them. (Seems refer to
God's blessings keep arriving when I or we need
them, I just have to keep watch for them. Sometimes they
arrive in a nearly impenetrable disguise. And look at me
with a grin when I recognize them.
I wrote this about Adelina back in 1956:
The Changes in Your Face
The ringing silence there, the low light burning
Like echoes of spent music, like the turning
Of white wings lifted on a distant sea,
Told me that time was done,
That all the years were one,
Imaged, unlost, in this eternity.
I moved through frames of memory unnumbered
Down the bright gallery of years remembered
And traced fate in the changes of your face:
Child's fresh wonder, young girl's laughter,
Work and childbirth, slow age after:
I held the perfect wholeness of your days.
And a wild sorrow and a wilder longing
Sang in the years and pierced me with its singing
Until I woke, knew where I was, and knew
I'd watched what I might never see,
Looked back on what is yet to be:
The time is now, and you are twenty-two.
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