When the Law Demands Compliance and Conscience Demands Resistance

(Forgive me for posting so frequently this week. There is a fire in my chest right now, and I don't know where else to go with it.)

My husband’s grandparents lived in the Netherlands when Hitler and his fascist regime was sweeping across Europe seeking to expand power and territory through fear, propaganda, and sanctioned cruelty. It all began with rhetoric, of course. Slanderous antisemitic statements— lies repeated loudly and often in order to plant seeds of hatred and fear in the hearts of the people. Once a leader has thoroughly dehumanized categories of people through propaganda, it becomes easy for otherwise decent people to justify mass atrocities against them. This has been the case throughout history again and again (and this is why when a leader throws out the first lie, he should ALWAYS be immediately be called out).

Grandpa and Grandma became leaders in the resistance movement in the Netherlands as the Gestapo terrorized people in the streets.

They hid and protected Jews and others the Gestapo were hunting. They stole ration cards in order to claim food for those who were hidden. They did everything they could to protect people who were being dragged from their homes, schools, churches, synagogues, loaded onto trucks and trains bound for concentration camps. Sometimes the destination was not a camp. Sometimes people were simply shot in the streets, in broad daylight, to remind everyone who was in control and the consequences of disobedience.

The law demanded compliance. Conscience demanded disobedience. Anyone who chose conscience risked the same fate as the rest on Hitler’s list of enemies.

But still, Grandpa and Grandma persisted in the work.

They did not wait for permission. They did not hide behind legality. They did not comfort themselves with the lie that obedience equals righteousness.

They knew the cost. They knew discovery could mean imprisonment, torture, death. They knew the danger was not hypothetical.

They also knew something else. They knew that there are moments in history when neutrality becomes collaboration. When silence becomes consent. When “just following the rules” becomes a moral failure.

They couldn’t even trust many of their Christian neighbors. Too many people and churches had aligned themselves with power. Too many had confused nationalism with faith. Too many believed the propaganda, or decided that certain people were expendable for the sake of order, purity, or comfort. Some even celebrated what was happening.

But Grandpa and Grandma (along with countless others history rarely names) refused to surrender their moral imagination. They chose a higher law. They broke unjust laws to protect human lives. They acted not because they were fearless, but because they were faithful to humanity itself. And to the Maker of humanity.

I can’t stop thinking about them.

Because the truth is that most people living under fascism do not believe they are doing anything wrong. They believe they are being practical. Reasonable. Law-abiding. Patriotic. Faithful to the powers that be.

Resistance rarely looks heroic in the moment. It looks disruptive. Dangerous. Disloyal. Illegal.

So I keep asking myself a question that refuses to let me rest. What would I be willing to risk if it ever came to that?

My comfort?
My reputation?
My safety?
My freedom?

My life?

I don’t know the answer. And I hope I never have to find out. But I do know this. I know that history does not ask whether we felt afraid in such moments. It asks what we did with our fear in those moments.

I’m so glad I had a few years with Bryan’s Grandpa and Grandma. They didn’t voluntarily talk much about the war. I’m sure the trauma from all they witnessed was unspeakable. They didn’t consider themselves “heroes”. They were simply doing was was obviously right. I’m so glad I pried into their experiences with questions. I’ve always had a rapt curiosity and interest in family history and the stories that rise up from lived experiences in a different time and place. I just never imagined that there could ever possibly come a time in my life, in the United States of America, when the courage of these stories of so long ago would begin to reach forward with relevancy.

May God bless the truth-tellers and the humble peacemakers. May God bless the kind, the gentle, the merciful, the hospitable. May God bless the lovers of humanity. May God bless the disrupters of darkness.