Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Who Am I?”

I never fail to be moved by Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s poem, “Who Am I?”  Written while in prison for a failed assassination attempt on Adolf Hitler’s life (an attempt that ultimately cost Bonhoeffer his life), this young Lutheran pastor’s words challenge me time and again.

Major transitions in life probably heighten one’s sense of introspection, and, especially during this time of transition in my life, I’ve been thinking a lot about this wonderful poem.

I’ve been thinking about it NOT because I’m unhappy or feel imprisoned (FAR from it!).  Rather, transitions, especially when one bears a title like “Pastor”, can simply cause one to ask Bonhoeffer’s question, “Who am I?”, regardless of whether or not one is in prison or in a new job or whether one is happy or sad.

It’s important to remember that, ultimately, our identity is in God.

The end of this poem is pure gold.

Something to think about!

 

“Who Am I?”

By Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell’s confinement

Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,

Like a squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders

Freely and friendly and clearly,

As though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me

I bore the days of misfortune

Equally, smilingly, proudly,

Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?

Or am I only what I myself know of myself?

Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,

Struggling for breath, as though hands were

compressing my throat,

Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,

Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,

Tossing in expectation of great events,

Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,

Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,

Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?

Am I one person today and tomorrow another?

Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,

And before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?

Or is something within me still like a beaten army,

Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, 0 God, I am Thine!

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